Page 105 of Horror and Chill
Michael nods. “Exactly. Not even Pastor Williams could help her. Or the youth pastor. He’s the one leading the women’s Bible study now.”
I raise a brow. “Isn’t it usually a woman who leads the ladies’ study?”
Michael snorts. “And let them get ideas? Rise up against us? No. We need them meek. They only need thoughts of serving us.”
I keep my mouth shut. We stop at the door Debra went through earlier. Michael knocks once and opens it.
The air inside is heavy. The room looks like a classroom. Desks lined up in rows. A woman sits in each one, head down, hands folded like they’re in school. At the front, a man yells scripture, his face flushed, his hand chopping the air with each sentence. He points while spitting the name Catherine, and a woman in the second row flinches.
“Stand,” he snaps. She obeys before you can call it a choice. Her shoulders tremble like someone who’s been told to hold a pose for too long. The man steps close, his voice is sharp and loud for the whole room to hear.
“You mock the household,” he bellows. “You spread slander in the market. You laugh loudly when a woman should bow. You draw the eye of men with your immodesty. You teach the girls to look up instead of down. You lead them from the path.” He spits each accusation like it’s scripture. “You whispered against Mr. Mitchell’s counsel. You did not keep your place in the last meeting. You smiled at a stranger on the street. Vanity. Pride. Questioning the order God put in place.”
Then he grabs her arm, bends her over the desk, and flips her skirt up. Her thighs shake as he raises a yardstick. He smacks it across her ass, and she cries out.
“God sees your sins!” he roars. “Your body will learn what your soul refuses!”
Another strike. Then another. Her sobs fill the room. “Let this be a lesson. Teach your daughters humility. Teach them to hold their tongues. Let the house be a place of order.”
Finally, he lets go. She stumbles back to her seat.
With the “lesson” now done, he dismisses them with a wave that is almost tender. “Go,” he intones. “Return to your husbands. Make the table ready. Keep the children in line. Remember the Lord’s will.”
This is not only cruel, but it’s deliberate. It’s engineered. They find something minor, blow it up into sin, and then use religion to re-script the women into silence. The damage is both public and private. A woman who goes home after this will carry the humiliation. She will be policed by neighbors and children and the echo of the pastor’s voice.
That is how control starts. Not with a single monstrous act, but with a thousand small ones stacked on top of each other until the whole thing looks natural.
The women file out without a word. Eyes low. Not a single one looks at him. Debra is the last. She stops in front of Michael.
“Michael.”
He tips her head up with two fingers, kisses her forehead. “Good study, love?”
“It was, dear. Thank you for asking.”
“Mine was good too. Debra, this is Garron. He’s thinking about attending services. Garron, this is my wife.”
I reach out my hand. Debra glances at me, then at Michael. Her smile is small, thin. “Nice to meet you, Garron.”
Michael shakes his head. “Sorry. Debra isn’t permitted to touch another male.”
I pull my hand back, acting embarrassed. “Oh, my apologies. I didn’t know.”
“It’s alright,” Michael says. “You’ll learn. The church will show you how to care for a woman properly. Anyway, it’s late. Debra needs to have dinner on the table by five.”
“Of course,” I reply. I nod at Debra. She lowers her eyes and follows him out.
When the door shuts behind them, I let myself breathe again. My mind locks everything in place. Every door. Every window. Every hallway. The layout burns into my memory.
I won’t forget it.
Not when I’m coming back.
And not when we’re tearing it all down.
But first, our Little Horror needs to tell us what Michael meant about the pastor trying to break her too.
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