I had that dream again. The one with the handsome man with the most appealing smile I had ever seen; the same man who told me to be patient that he was coming soon. I didn't know who he was. And I had no recollection of ever meeting him. The last time I had mentioned him to my mother, she had punished me for dreaming about a man.

I had learned from that moment wisely to ever mention him. It wasn't hard to rile up my mother. And mentioning a man I had dreamt about twice? That was sure to bring back the "take me to the pastor for deliverance" threats. And I had been there too many times already. Wasn't something I particularly enjoyed.

"Are you ready yet, Reva? We'll be late," my mom called from downstairs.

It was Sunday today, and like probably every first generation Cameroonian American living with their parents, I had to go to church. It had never been a chore. But for the past six months, I sensed some kind of restlessness.

I didn't know how to explain it. And with how my mother enjoyed jumping into conclusions, I wasn't about to risk a punishment with her. So I had shut my mouth, attended the Tuesday bible study, gone for choir practice on Saturday, and woke up bright and early on Sunday so I could go to church.

I went downstairs and like always, my mother examined my dressing with her critical eyes. The black skirt I was wearing hit my knees and I knew my mother was itching to say something about it. My face as usual, was devoid of makeup. My black box braids were in a ponytail and my ears were bare of any kind of jewelry.

"Let's go," she said in an impatient tone. I didn't say a word. Just followed her to the car where my other siblings were waiting.

My mother never pushed my siblings as hard as she did me. I couldn't explain why. I didn't get it either. They were showered with praises and compliments, but I was always asked to do better.

I didn't know how much better she wanted me to be since I was already literally perfect...

As usual, we were early to church. I went and took my place at the front of the hall where the choir members sat. I had never been the type who enjoyed attention being on me. But for reasons I couldn't explain, my mom had insisted I get into the choir. My voice wasn't anything special. And in my opinion, I wasn't a great addition to it. But I had no choice.

I had been following all my mother's orders since I was born. It was almost like I was indebted to her because she had taken care of me. If she wasn't the perfect Christian she claimed to be, I knew she would have been throwing the fact that she almost aborted me in my face.

I wanted to resent her... but I couldn't bring myself to. She had brought me up, and she had provided for me, even though it had been hard on her. I didn't want it to seem like I was ungrateful. Because that was the last thing I was...

Service was long as usual. I took down notes. My mother had surprised me way too many times not paying attention by asking me questions. So I was smarter now. I made sure that I wrote down everything the pastor said. No matter that it didn't seem important. The punishments she gave me were not things I would love to relive...

After service was no different from service. I had to wait for my mom to finish talking with all her "friends" and I had to endure the company of teenagers she thought would be a good influence on me. I didn't know how to tell her that most of them smoked weed and had probably had threesomes with each other.

Even if I did, it would most likely get me another punishment. I wasn't allowed to slander children of God, especially when they were supposedly holier than me.

"Reva," I heard a deep voice say above me.

I looked up into the eyes of one of the elders. The smile on his face looked warm and fatherly to any other person. But I could see the cracks beneath his facade. This man was evil.

"How are you doing, my child?" he asked, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I shuddered but I managed to give him a bland smile. "I'm good, thank you sir."

The sir had a hard time coming out, but I knew not to disrespect him. He had supposedly gone to another state and this was the first time I was seeing him in months.

He nodded and his hand slipped lower. To anyone else, it would have seemed like an innocent touch. But he made it so when he withdraw, his fingers touched my nipple. I stepped away from him and stared up at him with all the contempt I could muster.

It was not the first time this was happening. And I was definitely not the first.

"Don't touch me again," I said, then I moved away and walked towards my mother's car and let out a deep breath.

I don't know what had come over me just now but I had felt like I would slap him. That courage... it was something else.

"What did you say to Elder Mathew?" my mom asked when she came to the car. I swallowed.

Punishment.

"He touched my boob, mama. So I told him not to touch me again," I muttered. I knew she was not going to believe me over some man who supposedly had the anointing of god. But it wouldn't hurt to try.

"Why is the devil filling your head with so many lies, Bih? Why would you say something like that? I'll deal with you in the house. Let's go."

I sighed and got into the car. The ride was chatty, with my siblings trying to lure me into conversation but I was tired. I didn't know what I had ever done to this woman except he born.

"Go up to your room," she said.

I obeyed. I closed my door and changed into house clothes. And waited. It was my routine.

But this time around, something strange happened. I heard someone whisper, "I'll be coming soon for you, my love," then disappear.

I looked around, spooked. I didn't want to scream because who knew what my mother would accuse me of. But what the fuck had just happened...?

***
Word count: 1116

hi guys. i hope you enjoy this chapter and I love you

btw this book is not yet getting regular updates. I just had a little bit of inspiration and decided to write

give me your thoughts pls!

btw NO DISRESPECT TO CHRISTIANITY. I would never disrespect anyone's religion on purpose. what I'm portraying here is extremism, which a lot of Africans practice. so pls don't take offense lol. or if you do, don't comment cause I'll just delete 💕

bye 💖