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We looked up to Luna and never doubted her, even when our mother, who was supposed to protect her children, would wake us in the middle of the night to describe the terror in her mind. She would tell us to listen to the sounds of the monsters scraping at our windows.
"'No, no. See, you are a faggot; you need to go do whatever faggots do,” he said. “Or . . . or, you know what? I think you'd be better off dead.'" His words hung in the air. He was truly my only hope.
I knew that something had happened suddenly, something horrible, but my mind refused to register the thought. Certainly what I had been told was enough. Certainly the finality of my elders’ words was enough to make me realize it was all over, and from that moment I began living on the moon. The moon, a distant, cold place, far away from the hustle and bustle of life, away from any and all reality.