Chapter 3

"Bye, baby." said my dad, wrapping me in a warm, comfortable hug. I hugged him back, feeling only a wisp of sadness before it faded. I was used to my dad being gone most of the time, his work as a missionary taking him far away for long periods of time.

"Bye, daddy." I said, smiling as he kissed the top of my head.

He had come back home for a couple of weeks not long after my last run in with Blane, bringing back familiarity and strengthening my beliefs and resolves. I hadn't told him what had happened, of course. I was too embarassed and afraid. Just having him around, though, and listening to his lessons was enough.

I climbed out of the car and shut the door, waving bye to him as he drove away from the school. We made a regular thing of this, him dropping me off at school on his way to the airport. I liked the extra bonding time and, plus, it was better than riding the bus. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I made my way towards the school doors at a jog. No other kids were around, which meant they'd all be in the gym and I relished my time spent with my friends before classes started.

I was rounding the corner to the gym when, just like in some cheesy love movie, I ran into Blane. Literally. I didn't realize who it was until I looked up from the ground to apologize and met those warm eyes. Instantly, my heart fluttered, just as it had the past few weeks whenever I caught a glimpse of him. Cheeks warming, I muttered an apology and started searching for my backpack, only to see him holding it in one hand, his other extended towards me.

"Are you ok?" he asked, not withdrawing his hand when I just stared at it. Sighing, he reached down and snagged my arm, lifting me up before I could protest. Once on my feet, I dusted my jeans off to avoid looking at him.

"I'm sorry." he said, extending my pack to me. I took it with a shrug and started to walk off, wanting to distance myself, but was stopped when he grabbed my arm. I spun around, ready to tell him to let go, but the look on his face caught me off guard and stopped the words in my throat.

He looked pissed.

"Look, will you stop with the cold shoulder? I've put up with your ignoring me for the last month. I've put up with glares when I haven't done anything. I've fucking let you have your space and now i'm done. I want to know what the hell I did to make you so pissed at me."

I stared at him. I couldn't do anything else. I'd never heard him talk like this and, while I hadn't actually talked to him all that much, seeing that angry expression on his face just felt wrong to me.

"Well?" he pressed, stepping forward. When I backed up, he threw his hands into the air and took two huge steps back, putting himself against the other wall of the narrow hallway.

"I'm not going to fucking hurt you!" he almost shouted, making me cringe. There was little chance any teachers in the gym would hear us over the chaotic voices of the other students, but I wanted to be safe. Looking around, I spotted the Boys Locker Room and though that was one of the last places i'd want to be with him, I preferred it over a fight in the hallway. I started towards the door, looking back to see him following me as I opened it. Stalking back towards the showers, I waited until I was behind the wall before spinning around, catching him as he rounded the corner.

"I want you to leave me alone!" I said, dropping my backpack onto the ground.

"Leave you alone? I haven't even spoken to you in a fucking month! I haven't talked to you, touched you, or so much as even stared at you for 4 fucking weeks. How could I more leave you alone?"

"You're always around!" I responded, fists clenched at my sides.

"It's a school!" He threw his hands into the air, "What do you want me to do? Drop out?"

I was trembling, every emotion I had pushed back the last month all flooding into my body at once, nearly overwhelming me. Lust, hate, pain, fear, all of it.

"I hate you!" I shouted, not caring if my voice echoed off the walls. "I hate you! You made me a slut! You turned me into a dirty, filthy slut and i'll never forgive you! You ruined me!"

All the anger faded from his face at once, replaced with what I guessed to be confusion, then realization. My heart was racing in my chest, anxiety and anger skyrocketing the longer I looked at him. I wanted to walk out, but I couldn't stop. I had started and now the only way to shut up was to finish.

"Do you know how many times i've prayed over the last month? Do you know how many times i've dreamed of praying? How often i've scrubbed myself raw trying to get the feel of your touch off of my skin? I'm FILTHY! You made me filthy! You made me had sex out of wedlock, you made me smoke! You-you..." I couldn't stop shaking. I couldn't even breathe.

I heard Blane cry out as I dropped to the floor, gasping for air and fighting to calm myself. I felt warm arms around me and I tried to shove them away, but couldn't get my own arms to work. I could do nothing but lay on the floor, wrapped in the arms of the man I hated, gasping and crying out all the pain I had held in, all the pain he had put me through.

I don't know how long I laid there fighting for control, but after what seemed like an eternity of deep breaths and his whispered comforts, I finally regained myself. My first conscious thought was to move, but I couldn't bring up the strength. Panic attack, that's what it had been.

" ... what it does to you." I blinked, only now realizing Blane was talking to me.

"Wha-... ?" I asked, swallowing hard to find my throat dry.

"I said, Your religion, this is what it does to you. You just spent an entire month ignoring me and shoving your feelings away, not dealing with anything, because your religion told you what we did was dirty and wrong. Tell me something, Rachel, and I honestly want you to think about it before you answer. None of this knee-jerk religious bullshit. I want you to think long and hard before you answer me, ok?"

I didn't say yes, but I couldn't bring myself to say no, either. Taking my silence as positive, he continued:

"Is your religion worth what you just went through? Is it worth all that pain, panic, and fear just because you did something that you enjoyed? Do you think it's fair that you feel completely miserable for something that is completely natural?"

My first reaction to argue fizzled out almost immediately when I realized that's exactly what Blane had wanted me not to do. Instead, I took a deep breath and thought about his question. At first, I did it simply to by time. I was too weak from my panic attack to move, let alone run, so I was stuck in his arms until I got my strength back. Then, I actually began to wonder: Was it actually worth it?

Looking back on this past month, which I thought had been carefree, I quickly realized that I had fooled not only everyone around me, but myself, as well. I let myself remember the nightmares of Hell that had woken me up many nights, dreams where I was burning and being flayed by Satan for being a whore. I remembered the days where my cheeks had hurt from forcing a big smile for everyone so that no one would ask what was wrong. I realized I had not once taken a relaxing shower, my time in the bathroom consisting of scrubbing my skin raw in shame. Looking back on this last month, it had been Hell.