Barbara went about her morning routine. She stood at the sink, brushed her teeth, flossed, washed her face. She peered deep into the eyes of her own reflection and intoned her daily affirmation.
"You once were lost but now are saved. The poison is out; the ignorant slut is gone."
She cocked a half smile and breathed out deeply. She visualized the poison in her bloodstream being mobilized to her lungs and exiting through her pursed lips. Today was Barbara's first day as a counselor at Camp Clean. It was also two years to the day that Barbara had first set foot on campgrounds as a student.
Camp Clean was a summer Christian ministry devoted to cleansing sinners of their unnatural and impure impulses. Prior to her rebirth at the camp two years ago, Barbara had been a despicable chronic masturbator. In college she had stumbled upon what could happen with a pillow between her legs and a half hour of friction. By her second year she had a near-daily routine of sprinting to her apartment from campus, locking the door to her room, and passing every hour until dinner rubbing herself in any conceivable way. When her grades slipped her parents began to realize that she was not slaving away at coursework all day. One day her roommate knocked too softly to hear over her furious purring, cracked the door, and found her slavishly devoting herself to her loins. Her parents were quickly alerted to the deviancy.
This incident kicked of a family odyssey to help Barbara with her filthy addiction. Nothing seemed to work. The shame of her parents' lectures only heightened her heights. Every possible implement for self-destruction was removed from her bedroom but she continued to find others: the bedpost, her electric toothbrush, a smuggled cucumber from the kitchen - and when all else failed, her infallible right hand. Eventually her parents realized that physical solutions could not answer their prayers, and they sought mental, emotional, and spiritual answers. After a half dozen failed therapists had washed out in their attempts to help Barbara, her parents broke down one night at Bible study with a group of families from their church. As conservative southern Baptists, they had held the secret close, not wanting others in the community to know. But eventually years of frustration boiled over into a moment of transparency.
They were relived to find that another God-fearing family had delt with similar issues with a son of theirs. They recommended Camp Clean. When Barbara was dropped off at camp two years ago, it had been years since she'd gone more than two or three days without touching herself. Since then, she hadn't masturbated once. It was an honest-to-God miracle. The Christian teachings of camp had touched her spiritually, the methods resonated deeply. And now Barbara was thrilled to have been asked back as a counselor, to spread her learnings and successes with others.
Barbara had completed her college degree and was happily out in the workforce, a self sufficient adult. The camp headmaster felt that she could be an invaluable asset getting through to peers, others at a similar point in their lives. She was assigned as the lead instructor for a cabin of six boys, all on summer break from college. Barbara wanted to give these boys the gift she'd been given, a sendoff into adulthood and a life free from the constraints of self-harm.
She completed her morning routine and exited her cabin, walking down the path to Cabin 1, where her six pupils waited. Each cabin was rustic but spacious, housing three rooms: the bunk room, a traditional classroom with desks facing a chalkboard, and a communal bathroom. She strode directly into the classroom where all six were already seated quietly at desks, waiting for her. She'd already read the camp applications for each boy and was intimately familiar with their circumstances. All had a journey to camp similar to hers - families at their wits ends, exhausting seemingly every option before discovering Camp Clean. In the upper righthand corner of the chalkboard she wrote "Miss Barbara" and turned around to address the boys. She'd practiced her opening monologue for days leading up until now.
"Men and women are inherently pure. We were born pure and we grow up pure. But along the way something terrible has happened to everyone in this room. A poison now resides in your bodies and it is my job to get it out."
She paused for dramatic effect.
"Adam and Eve, too, were pure when they entered the Garden of Eden. But a snake came to them, and that snake was Lucifer. The devil corrupted them; he corrupted the purity of God's creation, and he has corrupted you. But it wasn't because you ate the wrong apple. No, no, no. At some point in each of your lives, totally unaware, without knowing it, you were bitten by that snake devil. And he put poison in your bodies. And because of it every day you harm yourselves and soil your bodies with impurity of thoughts and actions."
She felt like her preacher back home, ministering to those in need. The boys all sat in rapt attention. A bead of sweat dripped down her forehead; she was working up a lather of exertion. She continued on, using many of the tips and tricks she'd learned in her counselor training, until the timid arm of one boy was raised.
"Yes," she said pointing to him. She recognized Timothy from her bio packets.
"Um, I have a question."
"Sure. Go ahead."
"You see ma'am-"
"Please. It's Miss Barbara."
"Ok. You see Miss Barbara. There's somethin' sitting on my mind. You see, I grew up on a ranch, and I know snakes. We had rattlers all over. And you're tellin' us here that we've all been snake bit, right?"
"Yes, in a way."
"I can see that. Yeah, I can see that. Like for the longest time I was fine, not foolin' with myself and such. And one day that devil snake just jumped up and bit me between the legs. And I've had these urges ever since. And I know that poison you've been talkin' about. I can feel that poison in me."
"That's great that you can recognize that, acknowledge it."
"Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah but you see ma'am - I mean Miss Barbara. You see, people get snakebit on that ranch all the time. I mean, not really all the time, but it does happen. And we always do the same thing. Whenever it happens you gotta get someone else to suck the poison out. We suck out that snake poison, and things usually get better."
A light ripple of laugher came from some of the other boys in the room. Timothy continued looking ahead earnestly, pleadingly searching Barbara's eyes for help.
