6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Lilli
It’s my birthday. I’m eighteen and as I look at the parishioners around me, all with bright smiles aimed at me because of my dad, I want to puke. They don't know of his deceit, and they worship at the altar of his lies. It's disgusting.
I don't want to celebrate my ascension into adulthood with these people, but I have little choice. I’m stuck.
“You going to eat that?” Rachel asks. Shaking my head, I push my plate her way. Mama monitors everything she eats because, Rachel can't control her impulses when it comes to food. If you ask me, she looks fine, but there’s no changing the thoughts that Mama has rolling through her brain.
By the altar, Mama laughs, the shrill sound sliding down my spine like razors. I know for a fact that she hates Miranda Hughes because she’s not shy about discussing it. Couched in terms of holier-than-thou words, what it comes down to is the simple fact that Miranda is younger, prettier, and not afraid to show it.
As a result, Mama pretends to be her friend and complains about her hair, makeup, and sleazy dresses behind her back.
Daddy stands by the door, waving dramatically as he says something to Sheriff Montrose and shaking my head, I rise and exit out the back of the church before leaning against the pillar. I’m restless. I have been for weeks.
When I close my eyes, I see Wolf with his brilliant gray eyes telling me to stay away.
At night, he enters my dreams, and the sleek, warm muscles of his chest warm my cheeks even now. His strong arms when he pulled me in, create havoc in my soul. I’ve even taken to sleeping with his shirt but the distinct scent of him has faded.
I want to see him. I want to feel, and he most assuredly does that. And after such a small taste, with every day that passes in the prison of my house, I feel myself shrivel a little more.
There’s a big bright world out there, and I’m missing it, while my father lies to us all and we eat it up because that's what he expects us to do.
I’m eighteen. Daddy doesn't control me anymore. I can leave. Be free.
But Mercy…glancing behind me, I see her sitting in a pew, her nose buried in a book. She turned fourteen two weeks ago. She has another four years before she can be free. Can I wait that long? If I do, Daddy will surely have a dozen potential husbands lined up, all in line with his expectation that I become a dutiful wife who pretends to be pious while secretly hating her damn life.
The wind whispers through the trees and I shiver, pulling my sweater close before glancing down at my dress with a grimace. Covered in lace and large red roses, Mama insisted on it but wearing a dress made of fabric that matches old Mrs. Carlisle’s drapes is not the look I aspire to recreate.
Per Mama, though, if I show my knees, I’m bound for hell, so here I am, safe for another day.
When a shadow forms over my shoulder, I stiffen as Daddy says, “Only the lost look for what they don't need.”
If he only knew how much I hate his useless words and hypocritical attitude.
Clenching my hand at my side, I say, “And you’re not lost?”
He chuckles and says, “No, Lillith Anne. I’m not.”
“Were you lost in that trailer park, Daddy?” I ask, biting my lip once the words sail past my lips.
Shoot.
“I don't think I heard you right,” he says carefully, and I turn to him, my chin dipping at his chilly stare.
The problem is, I can’t pretend anymore, and I know in my heart this will only lead to regret but what do I have left but the truth anyway?
“You see, Daddy,” I say, raising my chin. “I believed you when you told me redemption meant covering my arms. That men shouldn't see my hair. That if I prayed hard enough and did as I was told, I would be saved. But none of it was real, was it? You’re no better than the rest of us.”
He grabs my arm, pushing me further from the door. After searching my gaze, he says, “Careful, daughter. You know not what you speak.”
“Don't I? You broke your vows, you—“
“Enough,” he hisses, leaning into me so closely I smell his rancid breath. Wrinkling my nose, I look away, grinding my teeth when he grabs my chin and pulls me back.
“Maybe your sister rubbed off on you. I don't know, but I won’t tolerate your insolence.”
“Which sister, Daddy? Miriam?”
His brows fly over his nose, and he shoves me away before raising his hand, but I don't flinch. I don't even feel. I just meet his treacherous stare, waiting for him to strike me here, in the backyard of his house of god.
His eyes flash before his mouth twists and he drops his hand. We stare at each other silently until he steps past me and inside. With a trickle of unease, I watch him go before walking away.
I have no destination in mind, but anywhere is better than where I am. Anything.
Despite the cool air, sweat itches my back and after a couple of miles, I wander into a play area and sit down on a bench. A couple of children play in the sandbox, their chatter filling the quiet air. Two moms laugh a few feet away before one of them shouts, “Joey, don’t throw the sand.”
Bowing my head, I rub my neck. I’m lost. I always have been, but I’m at a crossroads. I can leave or I can stay.
Every year during spring break, my parents lead a retreat for the younger set of parishioners. There are so few anymore that Daddy despairs for the youth of the community.
This year, I managed to get out of it. Daddy has been downright cold since we squared off on my birthday. Since I’m used to punishment in the form of silence, it rolls off my back.
Strangely, I don’t think Daddy told Mama about my mini-insurrection which is a relief because sometimes her punishments can be far more diabolical.
While Mama rushes around, grabbing the last of what they need for their five-day retreat, I stand by the counter in the kitchen, mentally ticking off everything she barks at me.
“Water the plants in the front. Oh, and the lawn,” she says while I sniffle into a tissue and glance at the hall, longing for my bed.
This cold came out of nowhere but it’s a blessing because Mama decided I should stay home rather than potentially infect anyone at the retreat. I’m sure this was only to prevent more of the people from dropping out next year.
Mercy walks by, her bright hair bouncing in twin braids. Rachel follows, glancing at me sideways before her lips pull into a scowl.
I feel her pain because this is just another week of misery where Mama watches them with an eagle eye and Daddy spouts off the same stuff we hear basically every day.
I’m not sad for the reprieve, that’s for sure.
As soon as they’re out the door, Mama turns to me, and I straighten. When her eyes narrow, I resist the urge to squirm.
“I want it all done before I come back, Lillith Anne.”
“Yes, Mama,” I say.
She eyes me quietly until my palms are sweaty and my heart thumps heavily in my chest. Finally, she’s satisfied and nods before sailing out the door.
Once she’s gone, I sag against the counter and close my eyes.
Why does it feel like she’s always searching for a reason to punish us? It’s not like I’ve ever given her one, well, I hadn’t before I snuck out a couple of times.
With a shiver, I head back to my room and collapse to my bed. Snuggling under the covers, I close my eyes and smile as I imagine Wolf before sleep claims me.