I Am

Chapter 5

After Wednesday, three days passed before Peter and I did anything together. Of course, he took me to school and then we either went to his house or he took me to mine, but on Sunday he took me to church with him again.

He told me that I could wear whatever I wanted, but Sundays were usually a little more formal. I wanted to look nice so I put on a knee length, teal blue sundress, a white cardigan, and black ballet flats. I put on a little makeup and curled my shoulder length brown hair. I thought I looked very nice.

I was smearing some Nutella on a piece of toast when I saw Peter pull into the drive. I grabbed my toast and was about to open the door when someone grabbed me from behind and turned me around. It was my half-drunk dad.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" He addressed me in a slurred voice and a raised tone.

"I'm going to church." I answered sweetly.

"I won't have you going off to no church. You're going to stay right here! Them church people be putting stupid ideas in your head..." He started to ramble on about how evil church was in a slurred voice.

"Daddy this church is not bad." I answered as calmly as possible.

"All churches are bad! You've been to this one before? Who took you? Tell me!" He was getting angrier and angrier and it was making me very scared.

"Daddy, calm down."

"I will not calm down! I won't have my daughter going off to church behind my back!" My dad was raising his hand up now. Just as he was about to slap me in the face Peter walked in.

"What do you think you're doing?" Peter was shouting. Not a very good first meeting with the girlfriend's dad.

"Who are you?" Now my dad's attention, and anger, was directed at Peter, just great.

"You can't slap your daughter!" Peter ignored the question.

"You can't tell me what to do!"

"I can get you sent to prison for child abuse!"

My dad was so angry that he didn't know what to do. He quickly raised his hand to slap me. Peter was too quick. He jumped in front of my dad's hand and caught the full blow across his eye. Now my dad was so mad that he punched Peter on the side of the head.

I screamed. "Daddy!"

I was crying. I'd never seen my dad filled with such hate.

"Get out of here." My dad spat at Peter.

Peter turned and walked out the door. I started to go after him but my dad grabbed me.

"Let me go!" I yelled. When he wouldn't I kicked him in the stomach, that did the trick.

I ran after Peter and my dad didn't bother pursuing us. I caught up to Peter as he was halfway to his car. I grabbed his arm and walked him the rest of the way to the car. He got in the drivers side and I got in the passenger side. I looked at his wounds. They looked like they really hurt.

"Peter, you should go to the hospital." I said.

"What? If I do that you're dad is going to jail."

"After the way he treated me and you I don't care! Plus, he hits my mom!"

Peter still looked reluctant.

"Please, Peter. You need to be looked at."

Peter sighed. "Ok"

"Can you drive yourself?"

"Yeah. Can you call my dad and let him know? Here's my phone."

Peter started to drive and I called his dad, who was at church. His dad left his other four kids with someone from church and met us in the ER.

When they finally examined Peter and did a Cat Scan they said that he didn't have a concussion or brain injury. They also called the police on my dad.

I didn't want Peter to know but I was pretty worried about my dad. Yes, he tried to hit me, successfully hit Peter, and has hit my mom multiple times, but he was still my dad. I wondered what they would do to him.

When Peter was released from the ER we went to his house. Mr. Hamal went to pick up his kids. Peter decided that we could go to the Sunday evening service since we missed the morning. So we spent another nice evening at Peter's house before going to church.

The Sunday night service started out a lot like the Wednesday night service. The band came out and did three songs. Then a man, probably in his 40s, skinny with cropped blonde hair, wearing a tee shirt and jeans, came out. He preached a message on sins and forgiveness. It was actually very touching. Some of the stuff he said hit very close to home. Like when he said that those in sin feel lost, they don't know what they're doing or why, they know there's something more but they don't know what. He talked about how those who are saved from sin have a purpose in life, how they have a path revealed to them by God, they live for God's glory. After the message, the band came back on and played a song while the preacher invited people to come pray.

Peter offered for me to stay at his house that night. He said I could sleep on the couch or in the guest bedroom and I could wear some of his mom's old clothes. I accepted because I didn't want to go back home.

"Peter, what is your purpose?" I asked him while we were sitting on his couch watching tv.

He hesitated for a minute before saying "To lead as many people as I can to Jesus."

"Is that all?" I thought that a purpose would be a little more significant.

"That's actually a big deal. Sometimes it can be really hard."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, no it's ok."

"So how do you lead people to Jesus?"

"I get to know them, invite them to church, give them my testimony."

"Oh."

"Briella," his tone was suddenly serious,"He can save you, too. He can give you purpose. He can give you hope." He was growing more excited. "He can set you free from your situation. Briella, just let Him."

I looked at him for a minute. He had a hopeful look on his face. That's when it hit me.

"I'm just another one of the people that you're trying to lead to Jesus, aren't I? You don't actually care about me! You just think I'm your purpose!" He looked hurt.

"Briella I want to lead you to Jesus because I love you and Jesus loves you, not because it's my purpose." He didn't say it, did he? Did he really just say it? He said "I love you." But I was still mad at him.

"What if I don't want to be saved or set free? What if I don't want purpose or hope?" I spat back at him.

"But you do, Briella. Look at you, look at your situation. I can see it. You want it so badly but you don't know how to get it."

"Just leave me alone, Peter."

He left the room with a hurt look on his face.