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“She’s waking up.” I hear a voice, but it sounds far away.
“Thank God! I thought you used too much. Charlie, open your eyes,” my mother snaps. I would know her voice anywhere.
“Stop yelling.” I start to roll over but stop when I realize there is nowhere to roll without falling off the side of whatever I’m on. My eyes fly open. I’m lying in the backseat of a car. My mother is staring at me from the front passenger seat. “What’s going on?” I try to sit up again and realize my hands are taped together in front of me.
“I’m saving you. That’s what’s going on.” The weird, lingering sweet taste on my tongue triggers the memory of what happened. Jacob had put a cloth over my mouth. I fought him as best as I could. I remember scratching at him as I tried to scream, but it only made me breathe in more of whatever substance was on the cloth he used. The last thing I remember is my mother grabbing my hands to stop me from fighting before everything went black.
“This is kidnapping.” I know my mother is nutty, but this is beyond insane.
“You’re my daughter. You're my kid. It can’t be kidnapping. You’ll thank me eventually.”
“You’re adultnapping me then!” I correct. I’m not a child anymore. She can’t tell me what to do. Now that I think about it, I bet that’s what has sent her into this spiral. She’s realized that she doesn’t have control over me anymore, and she’s trying to reassert that power.
“Don’t be dramatic.” She rolls her eyes at me. I hate that word. Anytime I pushed back against something she’d demanded, I’d be called dramatic. Over time, I stopped pushing. I didn’t want to be known as that. Now I know it’s not me that’s dramatic. It’s her.
“Dramatic!” I scream. “You drugged me and tied my hands.”
“You assaulted Jacob.” I glance to the rearview mirror to see Jacob’s face. My nail marks streak across his cheek, one lightly bleeding. I can’t help but feel a sense of pride, knowing that I stood up for myself.
“Yeah, he assaulted me first.”
“Saved you,” my mother corrects.
“You’ve really lost it.”
“I’ve lost it? Me?! You’re being a harlot. Fornicating with a man you’re not married to. You’ll end up pregnant, and your life will be ruined. Trust me. I know!” Her words might as well be a smack to the face. Not because I’m scared of getting pregnant. Which could be a possibility. I hadn’t really thought of that until now.
“So you’re saying that I ruined your life?”
“She didn’t mean it that way. Every child is a gift from God.”
My mother nods adamantly in agreement with the boy half her age.
“My sin will be turned into a legacy. You’ll marry Prophet Jacob.”
“I’m not marrying him.”
“You will,” she snaps. “You should be thanking me. You will be his first wife. Bear his offspring.”
“His first?” I scrunch my nose. “I’m not into menages.”
“Charlie,” my mother hisses. “What is wrong with you? Where did you learn these words? It’s disgusting. Of course you wouldn’t be intimate with his other wife. You’re my daughter. I could never think of you in that way. It would be wrong.” It takes me a second to process what she said. Maybe whatever was on the cloth got me high, because I’m surely misunderstanding her. Because if I’m not, then she is in way deeper than I could’ve ever imagined.
“Are you stating I’m your daughter, which we all know, or are you saying you’re going to be his second wife?”
“Jacob and I are spiritually connected.” She reaches out and touches him. “But you will be his legal wife and bear his children.”
A lightbulb flickers on in my mind. “Oh, gross. You’ve slept with him, haven't you?” There are no words for how twisted this is. Funny how she’s calling me a harlot when she’s a damn cougar who wants to share a man with her daughter. Gross.
“Charlie, that is enough.”
“Why do I have to marry him? You marry him. You’re already fucking him.”
My mother suddenly reaches back and smacks me. “I told you to watch your tongue.”
The smack doesn’t hurt. It’s shocking more than anything. All of this is.
“Mom, please. I’m spiritually connected to Rowan.” I try to reason with her using her insane logic.
“That man is using you, Charlie. Don’t be naïve.”
“He is not. I bet he could get laid anywhere. I saw you eyeing him up.”
“Joanna?” Jacob glances over at my mother. “Is that true?” How is he jealous? He’s trying to have two wives. What a bunch of bull.
“Jacob, you know it’s only you for me.” She strokes his cheek with her finger while shooting me a glare. “He is using you for money. The man is a handyman. He’s the hired help who sees a golden opportunity to be set for life.”
