The Religious & The Damaged (UNDER EDITING)

12

Joseph

  I wince at the hundredth whip that my father has inflicted upon me, and it doesn't stop.

  Tears gather in the corners of my eyes as I hold them shut, and my hands shake as I hold them intertwined at the altar. I speak in a shaky, wobbly whisper, but his grunts with each passing whip drowns me out.

  I feel like I'm about to faint. Maybe it's because I haven't eaten in the last few days or maybe it's because of the constant, never ending whips.

  My body falls limp when it ends, and I hear him take a few steps back as he breathes heavily.

  "Get out of my sight." He says.

  I finish praying before I make an attempt to stand, and when I do, it's hard to not fall back down. My vision darkens into a fuzzy mess, but I push myself out of the room and into the bathroom down the hall.

  I take deep, shaky breaths as I take the first aid kit from the cabinet against the wall by the door.

  My face feels hot and it stings, and the tears flowing down my cheeks don't make it any better. I wipe harshly at my face as I breathe hurriedly.

  Get it together. You're fine.

  My trembling hands reach out to open the first aid kit and I take out the bandages and hydrogen peroxide. A moment of realization hits as I stare down at the medical items.

  How am I going to do this?

  The doorbell rings, and I look over. I hear my father's footsteps descend down the hall to the stairs. I look back in front of me and exhale shakily as I reach my hands to the hem of my shirt, but my father's voice calls out to me.

  "Joseph, it's for you!"

  My head snaps to the side and my breath gets caught in my throat.

  He sounds happy? I don't think I've ever heard my father sound so happy before. I don't think I ever even seen him happy before—he's always angry at me.

  He pretends at church, obviously. But this was real happiness.

  "Joseph!"

  I flinch at his voice, and I quickly head downstairs. I make eye contact with my father and he's smiling.

  I can't help but feel uncomfortable and sort of terrified. This is getting freaky.

  I look to the person at the door, and my eyes widen as I see Kelsey, who's smiling brightly at me.

  "Kelsey?"

  "Son, how come you never told me you were friends with Mr. Levine's daughter?"

  "I.." My eyes shift between the two—I'm completely confused and baffled.

  I knew Kelsey was the Kelsey Levine, but I didn't think my father would care, not like this.

  Also, we weren't really friends.