Evil in the Church: A Teen's Story

A cool breeze blew her shortened blonde hair, and she shivered slightly, beginning to regret wearing that short black dress.
After a wave to her mother, the girl turned and started for the side door into the large brick church. As usual, the old man
stood at the top of the stairs, and opened the door for her.

"Good morning Miss."

"Good morning." She offered a warm smile, and swapped her Bible over to her left hand, nodding to him.

"I wonder..", the old man had began, then looked down to her, a smile on his kindly old face. "Would you mind coming down to
the Family Life  Center to help me get some chairs?"

"Sure." She pushed her sunglasses back up on the bridge of her nose and nodded, taking a step back for him to move past her,
back down the  stairs. Nothing in her mind made her think anything terrible about this, after all, this was a church deacon,
who had worked alongside her grandfather.

Once down to the FLC, she waited while the elderly man opened the door to one of the rooms, and she stepped in before him.
She raised a brow as she looked around the dimly lit room. There were no chairs in the room, save for one in the corner with
the old piano.

The old man smiled at her, and suddenly, the girl's heart sank. His wrinkled hands came to rest on her shoulders, and he
stepped close to her. She couldn't move, and a shiver shocked violently through her body. If the man noticed, he made no note
of it, and those rough hands moved down her arms, and she swallowed hard as her stomach did a flip, her knees shaking.

God, what is happening? Thoughts rushed through her head, matched only by the fearful pounding of her heart, and yet, she
still couldn't get herself to move. Soon, she was pressed against the wall, and the groping of her youthful form continued.
Those deep brown eyes closed tightly as he touched her, the rough edges of his skin scraping over the cloth of her dress,
and her stomach lurched at the squeezing of her breasts. Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes, and she couldn't
bring herself to look up to him, in a silent prayer that it would all end. Rough skin met smooth as her legs were touched,
massaged as she heard disgusting sounds vibrating from inside him, sounds unmistaken of enjoyment. The painted cement wall
was cold against her bare legs, and she cursed them for not carrying her away, out of the room. Her hands felt cold and
clammy as she squeezed them into tight fists, wishing her worthless body would fight back against him, just get away from
there.

A bell. Her saving grace, the bell announcing the beginning of Sunday school classes. A raspy, sickened breath finally pushed
past her dry lips, she didn't even realize she had been holding it all that time.

"I...I have to go...Joel will be looking for me if I'm late." Truly, if her sister showed up, and she didn't, the youth
director would go looking for her, he always did. He moved back a step in a bit of shock at the bell, and her sudden speech,
and she took that moment to run out the door. Her Bible, which had been at her feet, was kicked out the door before her, and
she scrambled to pick it up. She barely made it into the other building before she felt the bile building up at the back of
her throat, and she stumbled into the bathroom, her shaky fingers just barely snapping the lock shut before she fell to the
floor, her legs having given way under her. Once she had crawled to a stall, she just made it to the toilet as she began to
vomit, her whole body racked by heavy sobs of disgust, shock, and fear. She felt dirty, possibly evil, as if she had brought
it all on herself.

She never made it to Sunday school, and she caught her breath, numbly moving to the sink, where she began to wash her face of
the vomit, then the tears. She barely recognized the girl before her, she  looked so old, so cruel. No one will ever know
about this. She swore silently as her eyes fell to the burgundy covered Bible, splattered with tears and water from the sink.

True to her word, the girl never told anyone. After all, who would believe  the word of a ninth grade girl over the word of a
respected elderly church deacon? Her faith in the Southern Baptist religion  began to unravel that day, and soon, she stepped
away from the church, and went without any belief for many years. She is still hurting, no doubt, and barely in trust with a
nyone. Thus, the girl was lost, and her faith destroyed. Her story does not end here, but, at least, now someone knows what
happened to her.



Update: Considering this story is about my young self, I figured I would put in a small update. I still do not step foot in churches, and I do not

prescribe to any religion. I doubt I ever will again. The man in the tale has long since passed away, but I have yet to let myself forgive him for

the betrayal of trust by a teen girl that figured a 'friend' of her grandfather would never do such a thing. I have now told a few people in my life, very few,

but my family still to this day does not know. They just think I am a heathen to an extent that turned my back on being a Southern Baptist. I prefer to let them

continue to think that over knowing the truth.