Series: The Un Series by Izzy Sweet
Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Slut!”
“Whore of Babylon!”
“Evil bitch!”
Ripping my arm out of Sister Agatha’s grip, I twist around to see what is happening.
What has made everyone so angry?
Just as I turn to face the pews, though, something hard hits me in the face.
Crying out, I bring my arm up to shield myself and glimpse a black shoe dropping to the floor. A man’s black dress shoe.
Why would someone throw their shoe at me?
“Take her below,” I hear the Prophet say, his voice grating against my nerves again.
Sister Agatha nods and grabs my arm again. “Yes, Your Holiness.”
Another shoe flies through the air, a woman’s ivory heel this time, aimed for me, but Sister Agatha yanks me out of its path.
“That’s enough of that!” she snaps out.
“You’ll burn in Hell!” a man screams at me from the front row of pews. His cheeks stained red and all the veins in his neck popping out with his fury.
I recoil, my chest squeezing and my eyes burning.
What did I do?
Oh God, what did I do?
Sister Agatha drags me toward the red velvet curtain, pulling me along even as I dig in my heels.
I twist my body around again, nearly pulling my own arm out of socket to look at the cathedral. To look for my parents.
I thought I was safe when I felt God’s arms around me. I thought I was a good girl…
Yet, I see now that nearly everyone is on their feet, screaming at me. Their lips frothing. Their eyes full of hate.
“Daddy!” I cry out, unable to hold my tears back any longer.
Where is he?
He’ll help me. He’ll explain there’s been a terrible mistake.
He’ll protect me.
Searching through the watery gleam of my tears, gliding over hate-filled face after hate-filled face, I finally spot him standing behind Howard.
While Howard glares at me, his mouth bellowing along with the angry choir, my father stands utterly still. Every drop of color has been drained from his face, and he looks as if he’s aged over a dozen years.
“Daddy!” I scream for him, reaching with my free arm. “Help me!”
Pain flashes across my father’s face and his eyes fill with despair, but he makes no move toward me. Simply watching me being dragged away by Sister Agatha.
Why? Why isn’t he coming to help me? Why isn’t he defending me? Protecting me?
Does he not see? Can he not hear?
The red velvet curtain appears in the corners of my eyes, and I know with some innate certainty that once Sister Agatha drags me behind it, I will be doomed.
There will be no help. No hope. No rescue.
“Daddy, help me! Please!” I scream with everything I have in utter desperation.
He’s the only person I have.
The only one that loves me.
If I don’t have him, I have no one.
I have nothing.
My mother slides up from behind my father to grab his arm. My father’s expression tenses and he tries to pull away from her.
But then my mother stretches up and speaks into his ear.
I have no idea what my mother is saying, but after a few moments my father’s chin dips in defeat.
My mother smiles, her gaze glancing toward me as her lips continue to move, then she tugs on his arm.
Stiffening, my father resists the tug, and my heart flutters with hope.
Whatever my mother is saying, my father knows the truth.
He would never abandon me.
I’m his only child. His only daughter.
I’m his beautiful girl.
My father lifts his head and looks at me again.
On his face is that strange emotion I can’t figure out… It’s like he did something bad and he’s sorry and wishes he could take it back.
But a look like that has no place being on my father’s face. It’s so strange and foreign, it makes me feel sick.
When my mother tugs on my father’s arm again, this time with more insistence, my father finally turns with her, giving me his back.
And something inside me snaps.
“No!” I shriek, my heart shattering into a billion pieces. “Daddy! Daddy!”
Ignoring my cries, my father follows my mother, disappearing through the doorway.
But I can’t stop shrieking his name, hoping he’ll change his mind and come back.
Even when Sister Agatha finally manages to drag me behind the curtain, I scream for him. “Daddy!”
“Would you shut up!” Sister Agatha bellows, and uses my arm to pull me into her so she can slap me across the face.
My head jerks painfully on my neck and my teeth cut into my cheek, reopening the bites wounds I created earlier.
Blood fills my mouth, but I don’t need it. I don’t need the tangy, coppery taste to ease my pain. I’m so distraught, so hysterical, I’m numb to everything.
Except the throbbing, aching hole in my chest.
Everything has been taken from me. What little I had.
God’s love.
Daddy’s protection.
And no one’s told me what I did to deserve it.
Being good has done nothing to stop it. I did what I was told. I tried. I tried so hard. I repented. I begged for forgiveness.