Brother & sister in restrictive religious home discover sex

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“Oh no,” I replied, “I have been…” I started but my Father lifted his hand, silencing me.

“Do no lie,” he said acidly, then, he seemed to relax, “I believe that I have discovered the cause of your anxiety.” He said and my head began to pound. Somehow he’d found out. He knew what Joseph and I had done and now he was going to punish me. Worse, he was going to punish Joseph.

“Oh…” I said, not knowing what else to say. I looked at my Father, and he seemed just as menacing as ever.

“Yes,” he said, “I realized in the last few weeks that you are a woman.”

“I am,” I said in a faint whisper.

“And women, virtuous women, desire beyond all else to be married and have children,” my father explained.

“Of course Father,” I said, not even thinking about what his words meant. He obviously did not know anything. I felt sweet relief wash over my body. Perhaps my relationship with God was on the mend.

“Well, it will pain you no doubt to hear that Sarah Davis has died, just two weeks ago. You might have noticed that she was not at church last week,” my father said. I had not, in fact, noticed. I knew Sarah Davis, the wife of the Women’s Preacher, but I’d never been close with her. She was an old woman who sat in the front of the Church. She seemed nice enough, I was sorry that she was dead.

“How terrible,” I said.

“Yes,” my Father said, but in a way that showed he did not believe it to be that unfortunate, “Well, Pastor Davis is a man of strong, but swift emotions. It seems that he knew his wife was to die for some time and has already grieved deeply for her. He has decided to take a new wife immediately, as he needs a helpmate, someone to assist him. Especially with his two young daughters,” my Father explained. At first I was going to ask what this had to do with me, and the suddenly I realized it. My mind went blank, my body numb.

“Father…” I said, not knowing what I would say next, but my Father kept speaking.

“Tomorrow we will leave together and you will be made John Davis’ wife,” he explained, “Your mother and I are so proud.”

“But…” I said, still not completely absorbing the import of this news. My father rose from the chair, walked over and kissed me on the cheek.

“We are proud of you now,” he said with menace, “you would do well to take any time tonight to…grieve for your girlhood. Tomorrow, I will not stand for you to behave in an unchristian-like manner before you husband.” It seemed he could sense I was on the edge, about to crack. He rose quickly and then walked out of my room, closing the door behind him. When the door closed, the sudden realization of what was happening to me flooded into my mind. I could not hold back the tears now. As my Father had predicted, I grieved for my lost freedom, such as it was. I threw myself face down on the bed, quietly covering my pillow with hot tears.

I don’t know how long I cried, but the candle had burned a substantial amount when I got a hold of myself. I thought of myself as the wife of the fat, strange looking pastor. In the community, it would make me an important woman, an honored woman. I would have a little bit of power and some leeway when it came to interacting with others. But I would belong to that man. His ugly face and his fat, repellent body. I shuddered when I thought about it, but what could I do? My father had decided and so I would leave. I would go away from my home and never come back. If I saw my parents again, it would be at church or at a meeting at my husband’s house. And my brother… I suddenly realized. I would only see my brother maybe a dozen times again and never alone. For the rest of my life.

An existential dread coated me. I had accepted God’s punishment, the sudden coldness of my brother. But, in my heart, I had reserved a tiny bit of hope. Hope that God would forgive me for my sin and allow my brother to come back to me. I’d always known I was going to get married, but it had been such a distant event. Now I was going to be married and I would leave my brother, having our last words hissed at one another in strain and tension.

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