Page 37 of Out of the Dark

She nods, her eyes kind as she listens.

"Well, it was sort of like fasting, except for foodandsleep. We got water, but it was limited. It was supposed to strip us of our worldly needs so that we could better hear God’s word. The entire forty-eight hours were filled with sermons and prayer, and we weren’t allowed to sleep. The adults traded off shifts, but the small group of us were forced to stay awake. When we were instructed to pray on our own, we had to do it aloud so they knew we weren’t sleeping while our eyes were closed."

"And what do you think about all of this? How did you feel about it when you went through it yourself?"

"I was terrified," I admit. "I watched three of my older siblings go through it when they turned seventeen, and they seemed… different when they came out of it. Like it was the final push they needed to be fully immersed in what they were supposed to become. It was presented to us as this massive milestone, but I was so scared that somehow, once I went through it, I’d turn out just like everyone else."

Dr. Lawrence nods sympathetically.

I continue. "By that point, I was already questioning my beliefs, but nobody knew that, and I didn’t have the option torefuse the ceremony. But I knew the basics of what to expect based on whispers I’d overheard from my peers one day after church. So I mentally prepared myself, and when the time came, I managed to get through even though it was the weirdest experience of my life. Sleep deprivation is no joke."

My eyes drop to the floor as the memories come flooding back. Sitting there in a hard, uncomfortable pew with only my thoughts to keep me company, starting to fall asleep only to be woken by the infuriating voice of one of the church elders. "I know it probably sounds silly that that experience was so hard on me."

"That does not sound silly. Your feelings of fear were completely justified. All of those things are tell-tale signs of cult behavior and attempts at emotional control and manipulation."

"Oh." My brow furrows. I know things were a bit extreme at home, but a cult? The word brings to mind images much harsher than what I experienced. Sure, the community was isolated and selective, and the religious beliefs were on the more severe side, but there were also so many little moments of love and happiness. My mind is whirling when Dr. Lawrence interrupts my thoughts.

"That statement seems to have a strong effect on you."

I nod.

"Would you like to explore that a little more?"

This is the hard part—putting my thoughts into words that might make sense to others. "Sure. I just…I was surprised by the word ‘cult’ because it seems a bit extreme. What I went through feels unfair, but acult?"

"It’s understandable why you would feel that way. We’re often so desensitized to the way we grew up that it’s difficult to step back and see just how serious things were. Idon’t claim to be an expert on this sort of thing, but I’d be happy to give you some resources if you feel comfortable reading more on the topic."

"Sure, that would be great."

"So, how are things going as far as school and your living situation?" she asks. I know she’s sort of asking about Mark without making it too obvious, but that’s fine.

"I love school. Being able to challenge myself intellectually and read thought-provoking literature is a dream come true." Even though I don’t participate much in class conversations, listening to others debate about things like morality and nature versus nurture between my English and Psych classes is enlightening. I never thought I’d see the day where I could sit in a room of people not only questioning things, but being encouraged to think critically. It’s everything that my church wasn’t.

"That’s wonderful to hear. And your living situation?" she prompts, sensing my hesitancy to talk about that.

"That’s a little more complicated."

"How so?"

I’ve told Dr. Lawrence about Mark—obviously, since he’s the reason I’m here in the first place—and I told her about the kiss and how confusing his reaction was, but I somehow managed to skirt around the topic of me running into the woman he brought home two weeks later. We’ve been focusing more on my upbringing and current moral and religious struggles during our last few sessions.

"Well, two weeks after he kissed me, one of my night classes had been canceled, but I didn’t tell him because I assumed he’d just be home when I got back. So I went grocery shopping and had just finished putting groceries away in the kitchen when a woman walked out of his room and left. Shewas adjusting her shirt in a way that made it clear she had just put it back on."

"And how did you feel about that?"

"It hurt more than I expected it to. I didn’t think he’d actually want me for a real relationship or anything, but I felt sort of used after he kissed me and then acted like nothing happened. But then he was being so weird when I brought a male classmate over to work on our group project, like he was jealous or something. It makes no freaking sense," I huff, annoyed all over again at Mark’s mixed signals.

"Have you talked to him about how you feel?"

I shake my head.

"Why not?" Her voice is soft, the question sounding more curious than judgmental. Which, I suppose, is her job, but she’s still great at giving me the space I need to talk like this.

"I’m just scared, I guess. What if he gets mad at me or thinks I’m too needy if I ask him about it?"

"Has he ever given you any indication that he would get angry with you for how you feel?"

"No."

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