Karma's Happenstance

In Hiding

In Hiding

Mary Jo's POV

When I was a little girl, my mother always told me to stay away from boys. She told me they were bad news and I would only end up getting hurt. 
But there was this boy from school, Johnathan, who was kind and really nice. I remember he always shared his cookies with me. Although I hadn’t been older than maybe eight, I knew I was in love with him. It was just this feeling I had in my chest. I could feel it swelling when I was near him. I couldn't take my eyes off him.

So I did something, a girl from our church should never do: I refused to listen to my mother and I spent time with him anyway. We went fishing, climbed every tree we passed by and sometimes Jonathan would even hold my hand. I felt like there was nothing better in this world. We spent every moment together that we could.

Then, one day, my father came to know about this. I remember I cried the whole time he was lecturing me, forbidding me to ever see the boy again and I thought it was the worst thing he could ever do to me. Believe me, it wasn’t.

When he stripped off his belt and bent me over his lap to give me a beating, I knew I’d never be that careless again.

When my father was done, my mother looked at me and said "See, that’s what boys will do to you. They’ll hurt you." I never questioned anything she said after that again. 

But deep down in my heart I knew that what they taught in church, couldn’t be right. It just couldn't be right. If it was then why wasn't everyone a member of our faith? Other religions say it's wrong to have more than one wife. Why was it ok for us? 

That guy, Izzy, keeps looking at me with a frown on his face. He seems antsy. I wonder if he’s going to kick me out. I really need him to help me. I’m not going to make it on my own. There's no way out of here without being seen. And if I did get away, where would I go? Everyone around here knew who I was. And the will of the church was on most of their minds.

He seems tense. Maybe he’s in pain from that stab wound. That would explain why he’s drinking that much. And the pile of white powder on the picture, well maybe he wasn't lying about being a dealer and junkie. On the night stand I can see a needle. I should be terrified, but I'm not. I'm not scared of him.

I can’t stop looking at him. His eyes seem to be stuck in some eternal battle with his soul. His finger tips drum nervously at his thighs. He’s still shirtless and I can’t forget how warm and smooth his skin had felt when I took care of his injury. I’ve never felt anything like that. And I’ve never touched a man like that before. 
Remember me telling that I’m not a virgin? 

Well, this true. Technically.

I tried to go to college. I wanted to get educated, live a normal life and be able to put this whole church community behind me. So I ran away. But before I did, I stole my brother’s car, my sister’s money box and the donation box from church. I know this had been plain stupid. I mean, I didn’t really think this through. I just acted out of impulse.

Nor did I think about any concenquences that my actions might have brought.

I didn’t know anything about the world outside. And I’m pretty sure it was god’s punishment for stealing the donation box that someone slipped something into my drink. I woke up the next morning without either a memory or my virginity. I have no clue what it was like or how it happened. 

Thinking about it hurt. I felt panic rising inside of me. What am I doing? What if something like this is going to happen again? It’s not safe to leave the community behind. But this guy seems like a hard character. Definately like he's not a stranger to trouble. I see a gun laying in the middle of this trashed room under the edge of a pizza box with words scrolled onto the back.