Page 74 of Was I Ever Real

My gaze lands on the door and I skitter to my feet. I’m holding on to the smallest sliver of hope, but even that sliver whispers in my ears that it’s useless. Either way, I try to open the door. It rattles under my hold, locked and most likely bolted. A pained whimper bursts out of my mouth and I pound my fist against the door.

Don’t cry, Lenix. Don’t you dare cry.

Turning around, I desperately search for something,anythingthat could help me escape. Instead, my eyes snag on my father’s portrait still hanging on the wall. I lurch back into the door in horror as if I'm witnessing the rise of the antichrist themself. I’m trying my best to stay calm but I feel so weakened, struggling to draw strength from the person I’ve become.

Only Penelope exists here.

Jerking my eyes away in disgust, my sight then falls to theholybook on the table near the bed. The rage building behind my chest propels me forward. Stomping towards it, I snatch it in my hands. The thin pages rustle as the book cracks open. I grit my teeth, hating that tears are welling up in my eyes but I ignore them and struggle in a deep breath. I stay frozen for a few seconds, staring at the book that was the reason behind all my suffering.

My fingers find the pages andrip.I tear the book apart, channeling all of my hate into destroying the lies I’m holding in my hands.

When it’s finally laying in tatters at my feet, I stare at it numbly and spit on the torn pages.

I hear the door creak behind me, a small gasp following close behind.

Turning, I nearly fall to my knees.

“Mother?” I say softly.

She’s aged but looks the same. Cold yet still so beautiful, big brown eyes like my own, her complexion darker than mine. It’s as if thirteen years haven't separated us but only a year or two. My body fights against itself, wanting to move towards her but also run as far away as possible.

Finding horror splashed against her irises at what I’ve just committed, I know I’ve lost her. Maybe I never had her at all. Her gaze falls to my feet, then back to my face, and if I had any hope she’d welcome me back, it’s answered with the sneer slowly disfiguring her face.

“You are not my daughter,” she spits.

I almost smile.

I’m losing grip on reality and nothing even feels real—especially standing here in front of my mother who seems to hate me more than the devil himself.

I glare at her but say nothing. What words could I ever utter to the woman who knowingly and willingly sent her daughter to be raped by her own father?

How isshethe one with ire in her eyes when I was the sacrificial daughter?

“Put this on,” she finally says, placing what I already recognize as the typical dress for women of the commune. Bile rises up my throat as I can feel more of Lenix slowly being stripped away as they try to revert me back into Penelope. She turns to leave and I step forward.

“Wait.”

I expect her to ignore me but she stops with her hand on the doorknob.

“What does Frederick plan to do with me?” The worry found between the lulls of that one sentence makes my skin itch.

At the mention of my brother’s name, her face softens and I'm sickened at the sight. He’s not even her own son, but she preens like a proud mother nonetheless.

“You will sit trial before God,” she replies with all the righteousness of someone whose faith has never been tested.

“Oh?” I say tauntingly. “And how will that work exactly?”

Her face falls. “How dare you mock our Lord and Savior, Penelope.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m struggling to keep up my nonchalance. Especially when I am reminded ofher—the person I once was. She’s taking up more and more space inside of me as if this wretched place is giving her strength. Ironic since all I can feel emanating from her ashes is the shame of having fallen so far down. The paralyzing guilt of having lived an immoral life so different from the path I was taught to follow.

But somehow I find the will to stay strong, and stare my mother down, my mouth upturned with a jeering smile.

“Only God can save you now. By his touch, we live,” she says, fervent and pious before closing the door behind her.

I shudder when I hear the deadbolt, and I let loose a breath. The bed creaks under me when I sit, refusing to look at the clothes my mother ordered I wear.

Suddenly, I feel a gaping absence.

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