"Name something that you've done with a boy." Harry demanded with an evident smirk on his face, sending chills down my spine.
For the pastors son, he's nothing like I expected.
"N-nothing. It's a sin." I argued, frowning my eyebrows and fiddling wi...
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Chapter One - First Encounter ________________________
Being a child that was raised in a church limited many things in life and stopped me from being a normal teenager; I couldn't stay out past eight , I had to pray before I ate and before I slept. I could only be around other girls from the church other than Janet, and lastly, I definitely wasn't allowed to watch certain movies or shows that contained devilish things.
And wasn't even the worst part about it all..
Boys were not allowed.
If I were to even bring up having a male friend my father would shut it down immediately. His excuse for being strict on that is, 'I don't want you to make the same mistake as me and your mother. You deserve a better life.' By him saying that to me, I wasn't sure how to receive that. I questioned if that meant he wasn't happy about the fact that he had no choice but to raise me although he didn't want to.
It was a bit harsh from the outside looking in, but I've never been the one to complain, though. My parents beliefs were strong, and powerful; God was their savor for everything. The reason being was because they claimed that ever since they've connected themselves with the man above, he has brought them prosperity, hope and longevity.
They could've easily gave me away, or worse, kill me. But they didn't, and I'm thankful. They decided to raise me as their own with an excessive amount of strict rules to obey... unfortunately.
Getting ready for church on a Sunday was beginning to become more dreadful now that I was reaching a particular age where I felt that there was better things that I could do on a Sunday morning, such as going for walks in the park, picking flowers, meeting new people who aren't apart of the church I've been going to since I was only a toddler.
I dressed myself in a white button up and a plaid skirt, topping it off with my Mary Janes, which were the only shoes other than heels that my mother allowed me to wear. Earlier this morning, my mother came in to do my hair, so there was nothing left for me to take care of other than meet my parents at the dining table for breakfast.
As I stepped down the stairs, my eyes landed on my father, who was already settled in at the table with a large newspaper in his hands. My mothers back faced me as she placed down the plates onto the table, filled with eggs, bacon, sausages and pancakes.
My fathers eyes lit up once his eyes landed on me after hearing my footsteps. He placed the newspaper down before greeting me with a bright and welcoming smile, following with a goodmorning.
Clearly, my father was my favorite parent. Although he didn't allow me to have a boyfriend, he was pretty lenient when it came to certain things that my mother wasn't. My mother was a handful, and he knew it.
She was the main punisher in the house, meaning she was the one always in charge of my spankings and scolded me the most about everything I did. Everything about me had been built upon what my mother wanted out of me. The way I dress, the way I wear my hair, how I talk, how I smile, how I walk— it all came from her.
