Let's make a deal

Alice..

I smile as I look out over the children's choir. My father was coaching them in their highs and lows.

I know what you must be thinking, classic story about the preacher's daughter. She rebels, she talks back, she's a slut.

Not true. For I have yet to experience any of these delicacies. I'm a good daughter, and an even better church girl.

I just turned 18. I want to experience life outside the church.

"Are you ready dear?"I jump from my thoughts as my father speaks.

"Oh, yes."I smile as I stand up.

My mother was a nun who retired early because of her sickness. She had cancer when she was pregnant with me. She died during birth, but from her death came the miracle of life, me. As my father tells me.

I don't know much about her, he rarely speaks of her.

Anywho, back to this.

My father and I approach his car, and he opens the door for me.

.....

We sit quietly at the dinner table. Me, my step-brother, my father and step-mother.

My urge to speak was great.

"Papa."I say.

Everyone stops eating to look at me.

"Yes Alice?"he says.

My throat grows dry with my nerves and I take a deep breath.

"I..I wanna leave home papa."I say.

He drops his fork.

"Leave home? Why?"he asks.

"I'm 18 years old papa. I've never left this house, the church. Not even the town. I..I want to experience life in the outside."I chuckle.

The table is silent for a minute, and I watch my father's face go red.

"No."he says.

"No? Papa I'm 18, if I wanted to leave you couldn't stop me."I say. 

"You are in this house because it is safe. There is sin, and corruption beyond these walls!"he shouts at me.

"Maybe that's what's wrong with her. She's corrupt."Christopher says.

"I'm not corrupt I just want a little freedom!"I say.

"What freedoms don't you have!?"my father asks.

"JEANS!"I shout.

"It's not ladylike to wear jeans into the house of god!"My father says.

"You'd use that misogynistic stereotype for anything wouldn't you?! You can't wear high heels! You can't wear makeup! You can only wear your hair in as ponytail- AND YOU HAVE TO KEEP IT LONG!"I shout.

My step mother instantly gets up, begining to pray.

"You do not speak to me like that in my own house!"My father yells.

"Then I'll LEAVE!"I shout back.

The burst of adrenaline I felt every time I back talked to my father was addicting.

"No you won't!"he shouts back, getting up.

Now, what's happening now is something you'd probably call religious abuse. Someone using religion as a weapon. Constantly praying over you, using religion as an excuse to verbally abuse you.