Exodus 20:14

Psalm

Refrain from anger and turn from wrath; do not fret—it leads only to evil- Psalm 37:8

The residual pain of the marks that were left on her skin did not hurt as much as the looks that the community levelled at her.

After twenty-five years of living in their space, Dahlia still could not get used to the communal judgement dished out at those they perceived as imperfect.

And to be fair she should have.

The community showed her long ago what they really thought of her and her mother's outsider status in their carefully crafted environment.
Neveah had been a convert. Their leader had been drawn to the nondescript strip club that she waitressed at and, as her mother described it, it was faith at first sermon.

She'd quit her job and moved to the sanctuary and would later become the leaders' third and final wife.
To this day, Dahlia did not have a firm grasp on understanding why the people in their community didn't welcome her with open arms. She suspected it might have had something to do with how she looked; not the colour of her skin, but rather how her body encouraged an excess they superficially rejected.

She felt this rejection as she walked through their land, underscored by a malicious glee that she had fallen from grace.

And it burned and cut deeper than the scars on her back.

Despite her pain, Dahlia was on a mission. A righteous voyage that would right a lot of wrongs that led to her public penance.

Ruye was the common denominator, the catalyst, the central malicious entity.

She had brainwashed and harmed her Husband for years and it was up to Dahlia to slay the dragon, in her husband's inability to do so.

What was a marriage if not an endless cycle of humble ventures to defeat each other's problems?

Her Husband taught her to be submissive, pious, and domestic; the three key features of a real woman.

Ruye was none of these.

And yet her Husband delighted in her company, if the vigour with which he took her was any indication.

At the thought Dahlia's ordered steps faltered. Did she really have any moral claim to reprimand Ruye's actions?

After all, her extracurricular endeavours with the demon in her bathroom, was not characteristic of a loving Christian wife.

Nowhere in the Scriptures told her to let a sex demon repeatedly thrust his finger into her and suckle on her heavy breasts, until she lost consciousness to be closer to their God. If anything, their deity would be vehemently against such actions.

It didn't matter though; she was not like Ruye, she loved her Husband. The demon was a fever dream of an overactive artistic mind.

Astutely ignoring the window, she stood at to watch her Husband take another woman, she strode to Ruye's front door and began an incessant knock that would irritate even the dead.

A dishevelled Ruye opened her door, aiming an unimpressed look at Dahlia's heaving form.

"I was waiting for you. I should have known you would pick the most in opportune time to visit."

"I need to have a word with you Ruye."

"I suspect it will be more than one word but do come in."

Tentatively, as if expecting a den of inequity, Dahlia stepped into the house and started as the door clicked close behind her.

"Do you want tea? I have peppermint, chamomile, and lemon grass. I also have vodka and by any indication of the righteous anger on your face, I do think we will need that instead."