Escaping the Cult: One cult, two stories of survival. Kristina Jones

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ thunderbolt death stare.

      ‘Nap time.’

      Aunty Joy’s voice snapped me back to reality.

      ‘Children, back to your room, PJs on and get on your beds, please.’

      I groaned inwardly. I hated nap time. I would much rather have been allowed out to play in the garden where there was the big flame of the forest tree. The tree had big orange feathery plumes on its branches, and whenever we got a chance the other little girls and I would skip around it pretending to be princesses in a castle.

      Without a word we filed back to our room, stripped down to our underwear and put on the sleeveless T-shirts that we wore as our pyjamas, before climbing onto our bunk beds. Some of the uncles had built them out of salvaged wood. The bolts holding my frame together were loose, and whenever I moved it creaked and swayed.

      Uncle Ezekiel came into the room to supervise us. I hated the way he spoke through his nose.

      I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but the images of Heaven’s Girl and the soldiers invaded my mind. I was always a fidgety child, and being mentally uneasy made it worse. I couldn’t keep still.

      ‘Natacha,’ barked Uncle Ezekiel. I froze at my name.

      Ezekiel and Aunty Joy were sharing the single bed – she was bare breasted and her hand was moving up and down under the blanket.

      ‘Keep still. Go to sleep. All you children go to sleep. Now.’

      I screwed my eyelids tight, willing myself to sleep, trying to ignore the squeaking and animal grunting coming from Joy’s bed. I shuffled around in a bid to get comfortable.

      A strong hand clamped around my forearm. Uncle Ezekiel’s face was glaring at me.

      ‘You disobedient girl. Get here now.’

      He dragged me out of the bed so roughly that I fell face down onto the cold floor.

      Uncle Ezekiel, now completely naked, stood over me – his penis wagging like a disapproving finger. He reached towards me and pulled down my underwear. I knew better than to struggle, instead clenching my jaw for what was to come.

      The fly-swat slapped down hard across my buttocks, biting at my tender skin.

      I squealed, more from shock and indignation than pain, and clenched my jaw tighter, determined not to give him the satisfaction of making me cry.

      ‘Naughty, wicked girl,’ he cried as the swat struck again. Then a third time. ‘I hope you understand why I had to do that, Natacha. It was for your own benefit, because I love you. Now get into your bed and ask the Lord to forgive you.’

      Tears silently rolled down my cheeks as Uncle Ezekiel shoved me roughly back onto my bed, my knickers still around my knees.

      I lay still, my face pressing into the wall.

      ‘If I catch any children not sleeping then they will get the same thing,’ hissed Ezekiel, slightly out of breath.

      With tears streaming I pushed my face into the pillow to wipe my snotty nose, daring not to move further. My head was throbbing and filled with images of Uncle Ezekiel cowering before me, pleading with me not to shoot him with thunderbolts from my eyes. This made me feel better, and I drifted into a fitful sleep, with pictures of Ezekiel begging for mercy.

      When I woke up he was gone and Aunty Joy was smiling again.

      ‘Come along, children, back to class for Memory Time,’ she trilled in her sing-song accent.

      In silence we climbed out of our beds, filed back into the classroom and took our seats at our little desks. My bottom still stung and my eyes felt puffy.

      Joy had written some words on the blackboard and started to read them out loud: ‘Then … shall … they … deliver … you … up … to … be … afflicted … and … shall … kill … you … and … ye … shall … be … hated … of … all … nations … for … my … name’s … sake. OK, children, Bibles open at Matthew, please. Let’s all practise the verse together.’

      We repeated it in unison. I couldn’t say the word afflicted. Joy saw me struggling and laughed indulgently: ‘Oh, little Natacha. AF FLIC TED. It means to suffer, like when you die.’

      ‘Will I suffer when I die, Aunty Joy?’ I asked her.

      ‘Yes, of course, little one,’ she cooed as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

      ‘What if I don’t want to?’

      Aunty Joy laughed again, bathing me in her warm, beautiful smile.

      ‘Little Natacha, if you are not willing to suffer and die for Jesus how will you get to heaven?’

      Knowing I would die at a young age was not scary for me. It was a completely normal part of my life that was reinforced by every adult I knew, including my mom and dad. But it was the suffering bit that got to me. I would spend hours secretly worrying about it. Would it hurt? Would it be slow or quick? Would the person who killed me feel bad and say sorry or would they laugh and enjoy it?

      Those thoughts often kept me awake at night.

      Joy’s voice snapped me back to reality. ‘Very good, children. Let’s do it again. Then … shall … they … deliver … you … up … to … be … afflicted … and … shall … kill … you … and … ye … shall … be … hated … of … all … nations … for … my … name’s … sake. And again please, children.’

      And on and on we repeated it. Again. And again. And again.

Chapter 4

       Dances for the King

      Aunty Joy had sent me to an upstairs storeroom to fetch some books. Thrilled to be out of the stifling classroom for a few brief moments, I walked as slowly as I possibly could.

      At the top of the stairs I paused, wondering how I could drag the errand out even longer. I hit upon the ruse of pretending to be a princess inspecting my castle. Haughtily I practised an exaggerated princess walk, imagining that my brother’s old hand-me-down jeans, which were two sizes too big and held up with a nylon belt, were in fact a beautiful ball gown with a big petticoat skirt. I pranced along, swishing my imaginary dress from side to side as I went.

      The sight of a bedroom door, left ajar, stopped me hard in my make-believe tracks – one prancing leg still raised up above the floor. Why oh why hadn’t I noticed it sooner? Being seen or heard by the occupants was something I really didn’t want to happen.

      Gingerly I put my foot down, trying to be an ever-so-quiet tiny-little mouse.

      I heard the people in the room giggling.

      ‘Who’s there? Come on, nothing СКАЧАТЬ