DEBORAH'S P.O.V
"You are getting married, and that is final. "Daddy, please." My hands were shaking as I held out the letter. " Stanford accepted me. You said if I got in..."
"I said nothing of the sort." My father's voice echoed off the cracked white walls of our small apartment.
The church adjoined to the apartment screamed loudly as it's service got even louder.
"Your place is here, Deborah. Not in some godless school corrupting young women." "But I've worked so hard for this. I studied every night. I prayed. Grandpa said I could..." His palm hit the table in finality.
The letter fluttered to the floor like it had no weight at all. "Do not bring your grandfather into this. He filled your head with nonsense." "It's not nonsense! He believed in me. He was the only one who ever..."
My mother cut in with a sharp laugh. "Believe in what exactly?" Her eyes were filled with cold disgust.
"Sit down," my father barked. "And wipe that pride off your face. You'll marry the man of God who has chosen you. It is an honor."
An honor? To marry a man old enough to be my father.
"But he...he creeps me out!" I stammered. "He's always...he looks at me weird. And I'm not ready for marriage. Please, Daddy, I want to be a doctor..."
" You selfish, ungrateful child!", my mother cut in, standing with her arms folded. "You should be on your knees thanking God a man is even interested in taking you on. I was afraid no godly man would ever look your way. God gave you a chance, and you spit on it!"
"God didn't choose him!" I yelled, breathing hard. "You did!"
Silence.
My throat closed up as tears welled up in my eyes. "Do you know how many men of God that have fallen short of the glory because you keep seducing them with your body?No one wanted you. You should be honored pastor Jethro is willing to take you." "Take me? I'm not some..." "Enough!" Daddy rose. "You will come to the Church with me. The families are waiting. You won't disgrace me before my guests. You'll smile. You'll sit beside your husband-to-be and keep your mouth shut."
Husband-to-be. The words sat in my chest like hot stones.
I moved in a daze to the living room. Wooden chairs lined the peeling walls of our Church. Family friends, church members, deacons sat in rows with their noses in the air. The room reeked of sweat and righteous judgment. Men sat confidently- each beside their wives. Women are not allowed to speak in rooms like this. Head Deacon Ezekiel sat in the middle beside my sister. smiling round and beaming. I went and took a sit beside Jethro. He smiled at me like a man would at a meal. "Praise God!" someone greeted.
"Praise Him!" the others chorused."We have gathered here," Deacon Ezekiel began, "to do God's will. Proverbs 18:22 says—'He who finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtains favor from the Lord."
I clenched my fists.
"But before that, we must discuss the troubling issue of our existence. Our world has been taken over by the devil" he said. "We as Sons of God can no longer do God's will on earth. They monitor us like we're goats to be kept in line. But we'll prevail. God is on our side, we'll definitely be victorious."
Discussions and opinions flew all around. But I know as well as everyone, that all of this is in vain. Don Sinister and his men have been ruling the earth as we know it for 5 years. And no one has been able to defeat him talk less of a rebel church of 50 members in the suburbs of Minnesota.
After shouting, yelling and getting nowhere. They all stood and prayed. Long, loud prayers for them to be saved from the evil that has taken over the world. Scriptures. Tongues. Hands raised.
God, if You can hear me-please, please-get me out of here.
The meeting went on without a hitch. I watched them debate and decide on how best to attack the Don. No one so much as looked at me.
Next on was the topic of my coming wedding and that was delegated to the women. They took it up on themselves to congratulate and teach me to become a wife after the meeting. "The Bible tells us that as wives, submit to your husbands." "It is better to marry than to burn." "A godly woman builds her home." All while I sat like a statue. My chest tight. My fingers numb. I didn't say anything. When they realized that I wasn't going to respond to them, they concluded the meeting and shuffled themselves out.
Some of the women cast sympathetic looks over at me while the others just went about their way. They accosted mom and discussed the preparation for the wedding.
Jetro made a crude signal for us to be left alone. Sending winks in my direction, they shuffled out of the room leaving Jethro and I to talk. He leaned forward silently, staring down my top. My body shook in disgust.
"You're even prettier than I thought. Those curves..." He licked his lips. "I'm going to enjoy taking your virginity." I flinched. "Don't touch me." "Touch? Baby, I'll do more than touch when we're married. I own you now."
"You will never own me. I'm not marrying you." His hand flew so fast. The slap cracked across my face. " I own you. You'll cook. You'll lie on your back when I say so. And you'll thank me for it." Tears burned in my eyes, but I didn't let them fall. My parents walked in. I turned to them, trembling. "He slapped me Dad." "He's allowed to correct you Deborah." Daddy said.
" No!" I screamed. "You're giving me to a monster!"
"Enough!" my father thundered angrily. "You are to marry him and that's the end of it. No more talk of Stanford. No more talk of medicine. No more of your grandfather's foolishness."
I ran up the stairs, crying through the narrow hall, into my tiny room. My chest heaved as tears racked my body. My cheeks stung with the pain of the slap. I can't stay here.
I knelt beside my bed and pulled out the floorboard. My fingers scraped wood, digging until I found the bag Grandpa gave me years ago. I unzipped it. And my savings of two years is gone. No. No, no, no.
My hands trembled as I tore through the bag. Checked my drawer. My Bible. Under the mattress.
Gone.
The panic rose like bile. I stormed back into the living room.
"Did anyone touch anything in my room?"
"Why are you shouting?" Mama asked, unbothered. "My money is gone. Did you take it?"
She waved her hand. "Go and sit down. And stop making noise like a lunatic."
"Did you take it or not?"
"Why would I take your money? Don't be silly."
"I'm not being silly!" I cried. "There was a lot of money in there. Please...did you see it?"
She shrugged. "Ask your sister. She was cleaning upstairs yesterday."
I didn't wait. I yelled. "Maribelle!"
Deacon Ezekiel came into the house with her on his arms pregnant and waddling. Her face is perfectly made like Mother's even though she has not gone anywhere for the past year. Her husband didn't allow it.
He looked me up and down with evil in his eyes and a lustful bite of his lips.
"Did you touch the money under my bed?" "Oh yeah, I did. I forgot to tell you." "Where is it?" "I used it." My blood went cold. "You what?" "Used it. I needed baby things."
"I've been saving it for two years, Maribelle. Two years."
"You're being selfish," she spat. "I'm carrying life. I prayed to God for provision. He provided that money for me." I lunged at her without thinking. Daddy grabbed me mid-air. "Demon child!" Mama shouted. "The devil has taken over her. She's possessed."
"That's enough!" Daddy bellowed. "I told you to forget about school. You are not a doctor. You are a wife. A future mother. That is God's will." God's will my foot. I slid down the wall with a sob. They took it all from me. My dreams. My prayers. All drowned beneath their idea of God.
Deacon Ezekiel grabbed my sister and together they climbed over me. She stopped at the doorway to shoot me a look of disgust. He went outside on his own.
He'd barely made it 5 steps outside when the shot rang out. He fell back into the house. Dead.
Don Sinister has struck again.