Page 12 of I Dare You
“Yes, what?”
I dig my fingernails into my small palms.“Yes, sir.”
“And this is how you repay us?After we took you in.You are the reason my brother isn’t here with us any longer.He spoiled you.Your mother could see what you were.But my compassionate brother was far too kind.Look where that got him.”
His accusations are callous, but I can do nothing but stand here.
“You must repent for your sins.”
He unthreads his leather belt through the loops of his pants.
I know what’s expected.
I step forward and place my splayed hands on the edge of his desk.
With my heart in my throat, my uncle runs his fingers through my hair, yanking my head backward.“You’re late because you were whoring yourself with that Rivers boy, weren’t you?”
“No!I made a friend today,” I offer as an explanation, begging he sees reason.
But I’ve learned there is none with my uncle.
“Men and women cannot be friends.A woman’s role is to bear children of the Lord.That is their sole purpose.Get any other notions out of your head.”
I nod quickly, eyes wide in fear as he lets go of my hair.
He yanks down my leggings, and with a crack, he slaps my behind with his belt.
I jolt upward with the force.
But I don’t cry out.
“You will say the Lord’s Prayer as I absolve you of your sins.”
Crack.
My behind is sore from the hiding my uncle gave me two days ago for forgetting to close the door to the chicken coop, which led to the chickens being lost.
“I can’t hear you!”
Thwack.
“Our F-Father…” I commence with a falter as the pain from his belt striking me burns.
“Louder!”my uncle orders, slapping me over and over.
I then go on to recite the Lord’s Prayer, eyes glued to the large wooden crucifix hanging on the wall.
I don’t feel any absolution.
Or see the “light.”
All I feel is numb.
Ironic, isn’t it, that my uncle, the town’s beloved pastor, believes the way to redemption is to beat it into a child?
All he is doing is proving that God doesn’t exist.
How can He?
