It's not that my family doesn't care about me. I'm sure they do. They just have a funny way of showing it. My dad isn't the only one who is a fan of corporal punishment. I wish he was. The only thing my dad does in terms of physical punishment is spanking me. Sure, he did accidently punch me in the face after losing his temper when he heard about Jude and me sharing a tent. But that was an accident. I'm sure he was sorry. Although, he didn't own up to punching me in the face. He told everyone that I ran into a door when people asked questions about the black eye I had. And even if he did punch me on purpose, I'd be fine with it. I think. Physical punishment is something I can handle. Other family members have hurt me worse. As briefly mentioned before, my family members are fans of corporal punishment. They believe in tough love. Various family members have spanked me numerous times for stupid crap that I have done. It doesn't hurt. They're not hurting me. It's harmless, right? They only do it because they care about me. It's stupid to complain about it even if it is a little humiliating. My dad's dad, I guess I should call him my grandpa, is the worst though. He has done more than just spank me. It's nothing I can't handle though.

My dad's dad, my dad, my mom, and sometimes various other family members show up in my nightmares. The worst nightmare involves in a memory I keep on reliving over and over.

"Hey mom, what do you think of Jude?" I asked my mom one evening after coming from the Adams Foster's family house. They were having some sort of funeral after party for one of their dead relatives. Jude invited me to come over, and somehow we got our hands on an Ouija board and messed around with it.

My mom was cooking dinner in the kitchen, and my dad was in some other room that wasn't the kitchen. She gave me her signature fake smile while she stirred some pasta and replied tentatively, "He seems like a sweet boy. I guess…."

"I have a serious question that I need to ask you though," I brought up. She looked at me with a hint of annoyance on her face. I was used to her being annoyed with me. I was an annoying son, but I needed to ask her.

"Do you think it would be possible for me to have a romantic relationship with someone of the same gender?"

"Excuse me?!" my mom exclaimed in shock. Her loud voice echoed through the room. This caused my dad to barge into the kitchen in wonder about what was going on. Mom didn't seem to notice him. She ignored the pasta momentarily to address me, "Connor, you're not gay. That's absolutely disgusting. That question is beyond inappropriate. Is it Jude that is making you think you are gay or something? His parents are lesbians. I should have known."

"Right sorry….that was a stupid question," I mumbled trying to avoid eye contact with both my parents. I could hear the loud whispers of them though.

"I should talk to your father about this. He is a man of principles. Maybe he will have a talk with Connor about this," my mom whispered.

"No. Leave my father out of this. He's not exactly the best person to handle these situations."

"Why? You're worried about him hitting Connor? Is that it? If your dad hits Connor, so what? Connor needs to be taught a lesson. He's not as disciplined as he should be. A little corporal punishment would be good for him."

Sure enough, my dad called up her father-in-law, and he came over to our house while my dad was at work. He had a stern conversion about homosexual perversion and how I shouldn't me thinking about it. My dad's dad then took a broom and made me take off my shirt. Before I knew it he began hitting me in the back with the broom until the broom gave me splinters. He was taunting me. He said I was shameful. He said I was a pervert. He said I was disgusting. The pain and humiliation made me start to tear up. Dad's dad saw this, and he berated me for being a baby.

The pain didn't stop. Everything around me blurred together after a while and it just kept hurting. I had no idea what was going on. The only thing I wanted was for the pain to stop and it didn't. Where was this pain coming from? It seemed to be a different kind of pain that didn't come from being hit by a broom or taunting.

Maybe everything my dad's dad said was true. It was true wasn't it? It had to be.

I gasped awake and sat up in my bed in shock. There was a hand on my shoulder that I ignored at first. For second I didn't recognize the plain walls of the room I was in. It was a hospital room. I had surgery on my foot a couple days ago after getting shot. This was the hospital room where the diagnosis of my foot was given. This was the same hospital room that I came out to my dad in. This is the same room where I texted Jude in. This was the same hospital…

"Connor?"

I turned my head in surprise at the familiar voice. Jude was standing next to my bed in concern. He had a hand on my shoulder for some reason. I questioned him, "What are you doing here? Isn't it early?"

"Not really." Jude shook his head. "It's noon. I came to visit you. Life at home is kind of sad at the moment. Mariana and Jesus were in a car accident, and they haven't woken up from their comas. They're staying at this same hospital, and there's nothing to do but wait. So I figured while I'm here I might as well visit my boyfriend."

Huh? Boyfriend? It took my mind a little while to process that word. But then it occurred to me that Jude and I did become an official couple just yesterday. I then cringed at the thought of us being couple. My dad certainly isn't happy about this. My mom isn't going to be happy about this. Although, I don't where she went after her divorce with my dad. My dad's dad would probably beat me with a broom or maybe something worse if he found out about this. Why am I dating Jude? That is absolutely disgusting. Why did I even come out of the closet? My mom and many other relatives told me I'm not gay. No! I need to go back into the closet. I need to….

"Connor?" Jude asked me confused. He then grabbed my hand and rubbed it. Crap. I spaced out. It also occurred to me that I was breathing heavily out of panic. Jude kept his eyes on me the whole time. He watched me very tentatively. He asked me, "What are you thinking about? When I got here you seemed to be having a nightmare. So, I woke you."

"Nothing. It was just a random nightmare," I dismissed him quickly. I was not going to whine to him like a bitch about how my dad's dad hits me. It's corporal punishment. I can handle it. "I'm sorry about Jesus and Mariana though. I hope they're okay."

"They will be," Jude assured me with a soft smile. He was still holding my hand. A strong part of me wanted to push him away. This was wrong. But his hand was too comforting to let go. Jude went on, "Their mom Ana died though. It's going to be tough for them. Losing a loved one is always hard."

"I'm sure they'll be okay though," I answered firmly. "People die all the time. Everyone loses a loved one at one point or another. It's going to hurt, but people move on…."

However, my voice trailed off. While what I said sounded true, I knew I had no idea what I was talking about. I have never lost a loved one. As awful as this may sound, I don't even know if I have a loved one. I guess I love my dad. But….I just don't trust him. He scares me. God I sound like such an ungrateful wimp. He's my dad. He cares for me. I'm supposed to love him. I'm supposed to love all my family members. But do I? I really feel like I don't. Does that make me a bad person? Why don't I love my family? What is wrong with me?

"Connor?!" Jude snapped his fingers right in front of my face. His face had worry written all over it. "You spaced out again. What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" I answered too quickly. Images of my dad's dad beating me with a broom flashed before my eyes. Before I knew it, my hands were shaking. Jude's grip on my hand tightened. Something was clearly wrong. I just couldn't explain it. Was I seriously freaking out over my dad's dad beating me? Most kids get beaten by relatives. It's totally normal. Right? Why was a freaking out?

"Scoot over," Jude told me, gently nudging me to the side of the bed. He wanted to cuddle. But was cuddling the best idea? Cuddling is so gay. Oh wait, I am gay. I think. But I shouldn't be! That's absolutely disgusting! I shouldn't even be thinking about cuddling with another guy!

I scooted over anyway. Typical. Jude got in bed with me and curled up beside me. He rested his head on my shoulder. He reached a hand over to my face, and I winced at first. Jude was just wiping away tears from my eyes. How long have I been crying? God I'm such baby.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." I breathed. More images of various relatives beating me flashed before my eyes. For some odd reason I started sobbing. I had no idea why I became so vulnerable. I'm not usually this emotional. Where were all these emotions coming from?

"It's okay," Jude responded to me confidently. He wrapped an arm around me to pull me closer. "You can tell me about what you're going through, y'know? I don't exactly understand what you're going through or what you're thinking about, but you're struggling. I get that. I just want to help you. You know I'm here for you."

I didn't say anything but just nodded. We were curled up as close as we can be. He felt so warm and so comforting. If I could spend my entire life with Jude wrapped around me like this, I would. The voice of my dad's dad was my head calling me a pervert. Am I a pervert? Loved ones...no….family members would call me a pervert. But this felt too perfect. Was this what love feels like? I wouldn't know.

I absent-mindedly kissed Jude on the forehead and blurted out, "Does not loving any of my family members make me a bad person?"

Jude gaped at me in shock, "What? You don't think you love any of your family members? Why?"

"I don't know. But answer the question. Does that make me a bad person?"

Jude rested his head against my shoulder and took in a deep breath. "I can kind of see why you're struggling now. No….I don't think it makes you a bad person because you're not a bad person. What's wrong with your family though?"

"I'm absolutely disgusting, and they all know that," I blurted. This comment surprised me as much as it surprised Jude. Saying it out loud made me realize how much self-hatred I had for myself. I knew that my family thought I was disgusting, but it scared me to think I actually I believe them. I am completely mentally screwed at the moment, and I don't know what to do.

The crying continued, and Jude just stayed there in the bed with me trying to comfort me. He held me as close as possible to him whispering any bit of reassurance he could that everything was going to be okay. I nuzzled my face into his shoulder and Jude was rubbing back in an effort to soothe me. We eventually fell asleep in each other's arms.

I'm not exactly sure if my family loves me or if they will ever love me. But I am not going to go through this world unloved.