⚠️Warning⚠️
Please read at your own discretion.

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The church falls into a pin drop silence as my mother finishes reading the first poem out of my journal.

"These are the words of abomination she writes! Imagining what it would be like to be touched by a man! She is only sixteen!" She exclaims in anger, shoving me upside my head. My body jerks away from her, but I keep my balance.
"God already knows I have suffered enough embarrassment by her giving her virginity to that sinful boy!" I flinch at her words, keeping my eyes close.

"She is a disgrace to me and my husband. I only pray his soul rests in peace father." I could feel her gaze burning into the side of my head, but I do not look to her.

"Did you truly write this Agatha?" The priest softly asks, but I don't respond to his questioning, which only resulted in my mother roughly grabbing my arm, her nails piercing into my skin.

I look to her with fire in my eyes. Never seeming to understand why she could not see the truth that was right in front of her.

"Father speaks to you!" She grits out, forcing me to face the man again. I look up at him this time, the older man wearing his usual Holy facade, but I knew first hand he was nothing of it. He was not a Saint.

"You can speak to me Agatha." No I cannot. My mother roughly pulls me again, causing my body to jerk towards her, and I tighten my hand into fists, prepared in my mind to forget about respecting my parents and hit her.

"Please Sister Rebecca. Be calm my child." He urged her and she instantly did as she was told. I could laugh. So obedient to the devil they all are.

"Agatha dear..." I keep my face void of any emotions, as I turn to face him again. His eyes flashing with that excited look he always got when I showed him the littlest of defiance.
"Did you write them?"

"Yes I wrote them." I confidently spoke and his eyes darkened slightly. Their pathetic gasps were as dramatic, but I won't lower my head as last time. I did nothing wrong then, and I knew the reason behind my writings. It's simply my mistake for forgetting to move it back to my hiding place and not leaving it under my pillow.

He looks towards my mother, and I lower my head in anger at his words.
"I shall take her with me to my office, so she can repent of her sins."

"Thank you father." I look to idiotic woman, her eyes gazing at the man as if he was Jesus himself. She makes me sick, they all do.

She looks to me and her face hardens again.
"When father drops you home, you will sit in that room and I will make sure you write nothing but Holy Poems from sun up to sun down." She says, pointing the book at me. The priest stretches his hand out to her, and she gives the book to him, and he gestures her to go to her seat.

Turning us to face the congregation, he places his hand at the curve of my back, the familiar feeling of bile raising in my throat, but I managed hold it down.

Looking towards the congregation, their eyes all held nothing but judgement and disgust towards me, some already praying for God's mercy towards me, but when I looked towards the fellow youths of our church, majority looked at me sympathetically, the priest's son wearing his usual blank expression; I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to be exactly like his father.

"Pray for her purity as I pray for her as well in my chambers." He loudly spoke for all to hear.
"May God renew her mind and make it pure once more."

"Amen." They all respond like a choir, before they simultaneously lower their heads, all eyes closed, beginning to pray. Their whispers circulated the entire room, sounding nothing close to that of a heavenly manner. No, to my ears they sounded like the whispers of evils spirits that come to torment you; and each passing second, you slowly feel your sanity draining from within you, until you are nothing but an empty shell and chaos.

He looks down to me, his hand lowering to my rest on my butt, the holy mask he usually wore replaced by his true demonic nature.
"We shall make you perfect Agatha." He mutters, lifting his hand back to its former place, before leading me in the direction of his chambers, my eyes glaring in front of me in anger, because I knew there was nothing I could do about things...for now.

We enter the horrid room, the black chaise lounge on the left, causing my stomach to tighten in fear.

"You know what to do Agatha." He declares and I nod, slowly beginning to unbutton the buttons of the white dress.

He moves ahead of me after locking the door, going over to the cupboard and taking out the restraints, going to the chair beginning to set it up to the hooks hidden on the ground.

Turning to me, with a glazed look over his features, the true demonic nature of his existence shown.
"You shall be perfect Agatha. Perfect for me."

This is life in our village.

Evil done in the name of Jesus.

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