Chapter Three

                      Beginning of slavery

There are times when life looks so bleak, you can’t see the windows. This was exactly how I was feeling at this moment. It’s been three days; Three days of constant abuses and pain, with nothing to make me feel slightly better.

    Father Antione has become my nightmare, and every single day, I wonder what I had done wrong to deserve such hatred. It literally beats my imagination, and I’m really worried sick about it.

    My family had left me for dead, at the most delicate part of my life. I said dead because this was becoming a nightmare. I preferred my old life to this.

    “Susan!” Father Antione’s voice rang out.

    “Father!” I responded just as hard.

    I picked myself up from the dirt ground that had served as my room for months, and walked to the living room. Father Antione was one of the fathers that received visits in his house, as a way to cleanse people of their sins. And, today was no exception. Seated in the parlour were seven women with heavy make-up, and a regal outfit looking completely sophisticated.

    For a moment, I remembered the dream. The father's face had been wretched with passion, a complete abomination for a priest. It was so contrary to his solemn demeanour as he sat in the midst of these women. 

    Now, that I thought about it. This was the reason he had been so upset. My dreams had struck a nerve. A priest should never be seen as such a disgusting act, but I had been so comfortable to let it out. Truly, it’s not everything one sees, that one says.

    “If you’re done staring at us, you should wash the dishes as quickly as possible. A demonic waste,” Father Antoine snapped in a voice that dripped with disgust.

    I lowered my head, as I took the empty cups from the glass table. I was aware of the ladies looking at me curiously. It was not every time this happened, so it was eye-catching for them and surely a topic of their next table talk.

    “So young, yet so evil,” one of them said.

    A chill went through my spine. I grabbed the cup, and tried to live as quickly as possible. I hated it here. It was so painful.

    “I pray the Lord frees her soul from the evil that resides in her heart,” another said easily.

    A soft laugh sounded, she turned her gaze to Father Antione who was pointing at her like she was some sort of spectacle.

    “That’s asking for too much. She is a breed that is meant to stay in the midst of pigs. I will personally scourge her off the evil in her heart and make her better. Nothing shall be left in her journey of retribution.” He said with hate spewing each word.

    My eyes misted over, and I only wanted to cry out of pain, but I would not. I just couldn’t. 

    “What are you looking at as a child of satan?” He asked in disdain.

    My heart swelled in pain as I looked away from him. I’ve never felt so shattered in my whole life. I was now being called a child of Satan, like my feeling was grass that can withstand pain. This will pass soon, I thought in my head as I walked away from them.

     For days, the priest kept overworking me, and making me feel like I was drugged. The nightmare had become recurrent, and it was so difficult to keep my head afloat. I didn’t want to keep dreaming about sex. It was messing up with my head. I just wanted to leave this place.

    I used the blunt knife to peel the potatoes on the wooden grate. It itched my fingers like hell, but I simply clenched my teeth to stop myself from feeling pain.

    “You’re here,” Father Antione said easily.

    “Yes, father,” I managed.

    He stepped through the rubbish, and stood right in front of me. I looked up, at the same moment he did a sign of the cross, and then shook himself. He was wearing a dark robe this time.

    “You’ve been meeting people,” he said as a form of accusation.

    “No,” I denied.

    He shook himself once more. “Enough of the lies. I have heard that you’ve told the members that you’ve been diminished to that of a slave. You want nothing more, but to be free from the shackles that bounds you, so you can be free to practise your witchery,” he pointed out.

    I dropped the knife I had held, stunned beyond words. No-one has accused me of such a thing for so long a time. I was not a gossip, and definitely not a witch.

    “Father, I…”

    He raised his left hand up, stalling my words. “I will do all the talking, all you need to do is to listen. Ah, did you dream about this moment too?” He mocked.

    I bit my lips from saying anything.

    “I doubt that,” he said with a laugh. “You only dream about evil things as a child of Satan that you are. Anyway, you will be travelling soon. It will do us both well. I need a breather, and I don’t need you soiling my name more than you’ve already had. My visitors are already asking questions, and I would not have that. Be ready by 7 tomorrow.” He said simply.

    He spat on the floor, and then said some prayers as he made his way out, leaving me on the dirt with the potatoes itching me like crazy. Heaven knew I had the urge to fling them away, but I didn’t. I just wish I could.