Rebel (youngwritersshortstory)

Rebellion

I wiggled impatiently in my seat  while I bounced my leg up and down. I don't belong here. I don't belong here. Was all that ran though my mind for the past 30 minutes.

The pastor looking prim as always in his beige brand name suit stood before the congregation. God forbid if he saw a speck of dust on his suit, for all of hell would break loose. I giggled at the irony of my thoughts, earning me a light shove and murderous glare from my mother who sat to my right. I scrutinized her appearance; her hair in a tight bun that seemed stretch the skin on her face and her costly outfit. She like all the others in this place; that wasn't worthy of being called a church anymore were being lied to. And God forgive me for these thoughts but even He wouldn't like to set foot in here either.  Why did anyone come here if the pastor would just leave and put away this goody two shoes facade as soon as they exited those doors. I looked around me and everyone seemed to be enraptured in the message the pastor was attempting to teach, but in my eyes he was failing miserably.

These people that I had grown up around were now strangers to me. They were being fed lie after lie and they still came back for more like lost puppy dogs. Having strict dress codes, not being allowed to go to the beach and even telling us that watching movies was an unforgivable sin that was equal in punishment as adultery was. Everyone was being brainwashed by this poor excuse of a pastor we had, all he desired was power and control and I was sick of it. Anyone with the slightest hint of common sense instilled within them should refuse to pay attention during these messages but apparently I was the only one.

"And this is why we shouldn't allow our children to listen to rock music, we wouldn't want them to be involved in devils work," I remembered seeing pictures of him at a rock concert in his office and a loud scoff leaves my lips. I could feel his eyes boring holes into my forehead and the whispers of others filled my ears. All the while a cocky smirk began to grow on my lips.

This man, or Mr. Jaime as he forced everyone to call him, had been skeptical about my behavior for the past year and a half. It wasn't until he saw me walking around with my friend who worked at a tattoo shop did he begin to realized his little game of 'EVERYONE SHOULD DO AS I SAY' was not working on me. Took you long enough Jaime.

The congregation quickly exited the church but not until they said their goodbyes to the pastor. It was disgusting really. I waited outside for my mother and when I spotted her she wasn't alone, the 'royal highness' was walking along side her.

"Good afternoon Ana," the words rolling off his lips brought bile to my mouth. I avoided his stare and began to walk away. "Ana you come back here and apologize to your father for your childish behavior during the service," my mother said firmly. I abruptly spun around and marched to them both with sudden hatred at the sudden realization of her words. "He is not my father or did you simply forget that huh," the words slipped though my mouth like sand through your fingers. My mother's face showed pure and utter shock at my words. But this only fed the fire burning deep within my soul. So much anger and hatred I had kept bottled up within me began to boil and i was sure steam was coming out of my ears. "Did you forget that my father passed away only a year ago? That you had the audacity to replace him so quickly with this poor excuse of man?" I yelled pointing at the villain beside her.  "Oh and don't forget having him take my father's position as a pastor that he worked so many years to get and make this church what it became," my mother's mouth was open but no words came out. Shame on her.

"Jaime," I cringed at the name, "has taken over my father's position and completely erased everything my father has accomplished, brainwashing these people and telling them what to wear, and what is and isn't good for them,". My mother's gaze was fixed on the ground too ashamed to meet mine. Jaime on the other hand had a stupid smirk plastered on his face and a glint of amusement in his eyes. All I wanted was to slap him, but as much as I wanted to, it took everything within me to not lay a hand on him. He knew I was bound to explode; that I was too smart to fall in his trap he wanted my reputation as the priests perfect daughter to dissipate, because that's just the type of person he is. Everything that my father taught me would've gone to waste if I hit him. There is a loop whole to every situation; a way out that doesn't involve violence,  and I was determined to use that path.  Mustering all the courage left within me and still enraged I turned around and walked home.

I ran up to my room and locked the door behind me. He wanted to ruin my reputation then so be it, I could care less anymore. I'm my father's daughter and this isn't what he would've envisioned his church becoming. He always preached that it was alright to dress the way one wants or listen to music they want but without straying far from God's path. It's all up to me to change things around here, to rid of this evil tyrant of a man.

I let my auburn hair loose from it's tight bun and allow it to rest on my shoulders in waves. I slip out of my ankle length skirt and switch it for some jeans and a rock t-shirt. I scan my appearance in the mirror and a triumphant smile grows on my face. In the eyes of others my act of defiance such as changing my attire or stating what I believe may not be intense enough to spark change. But one small leap of faith, no matter how minuscule, one courageous act from a single voice standing up against what they believe is wrong can cause a multiple of revolutions to take place, and we have our ancestors throughout history to prove it for us.

Change is not any simple, but we all have the power within us to cause it.