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“He’s expecting you.” She says in a voice devoid of emotion and as we follow her inside, a shiver ripples through my entire body.
This place is already depressing, and we’ve only just stepped inside.
Stark walls decorated only with one solid wooden crucifix beckon me to damnation. The polished wooden floor gleams as we tread a dangerous path and the various doors set into the wall probably hide cold comfort if this is anything to go by.
She opens a door at the end of the narrow hallway and says politely, “Your visitors have arrived, sir.”
We hear nothing, but she steps to one side and jerks her thumb into the room and as we head inside, my knees tremble when I see the man waiting for me.
He rises from behind a huge wooden desk in a room filled with leather-bound books. There is one solitary light and no window covering, and the only art on the wall is a picture of the last supper.
It is so cold in here and I shiver not only from terror but because he has the window open and if I could, I would dive headfirst through it because this is not a happy home. Far from it. It’s a prison and I am in no doubt that I will pay a heavy price during my time here.
Reverend Peters completely ignores me and addresses my father. “Cyrus. Please take a seat.”
He nods to the upright wooden chair set before his desk, and I stand beside my mom as if we are invisible to him. If only that were still the case.
“We have an agreement.” The reverend says and still hasn’t glanced once in either mine or mom’s direction.
“For the next ten days, there will be no contact with your child.”
Mom brushes her hand against mine and it shocks me a little. After her story today, my heart has softened toward her and I brush mine back in a gesture of support.
My father merely nods, and the reverend says firmly, “She will remain here during the preparations of our wedding. At no time must you question my methods, knowing that everything I do is for the good of conquering evil. Do we have an agreement?”
Part of me hopes my father will stand up for once in his life, but my hopes are dashed when he says loudly, “We would be honored for you to take our daughter in hand, Reverend.”
I make to speak, and mom nudges me as the men stand and shake hands across the table.
As he straightens up, the reverend says dismissively, “You may both leave.”
Just like that, my parents fade from my side as if they were smoke. Quietly, no gestures, no emotion, and no goodbyes. The door shuts quietly behind them, and I stand awkwardly in the center of the room waiting for the ax to fall.
The reverend moves from behind the desk and stands facing me, some distance apart.
“Turn around.” He commands and like a piece of cattle, I pirouette so he can assess his purchase.
As I face him again, he shakes his head.
“I have a lot of work to do.”
He approaches me and hisses, “Kneel.”
Once again, I foolishly open my mouth to speak, but before any words make it out, he strikes me hard across the face and yells. “I SAID KNEEL!”
I am so shocked I fall to the ground and tremble before him, as he places his hand on top of my head and says a prayer for my soul. My face is burning and not only from the pain because I am mortified to be in this position at all.
I try to focus on the one reason I am here and offer my own silent prayer to God to reunite me with my child and as soon as he finishes, he says in a curt voice with no emotion.
“You will be confined to your room. Miss. Hughes will bring you food and water and you have seven days to learn the bible in its entirety.”
“My baby.”
I foolishly blurt out and am rewarded with another slap across the face.
“Do not speak.” He hisses and I try so hard to stem the tears that are bubbling up as he hisses, “Seven days to learn the bible. If you pass the test, I will allow you access to your bastard. Miss. Hughes will care for it and if you ever want to see it again, you will do as I say.”
I’m shocked when his fingers filter through my hair and then he grabs it hard and pulls my head up to face him. The look on his face makes me weak with terror because this man isn’t sane. He’s mad.
