Jhamie Bryant - Chronicles of a Numb Teen

The Pastor's Office

I enter Pastor Smith's empty office and lock the door and undress before anything else. I turned on the lights and Deacon Jones was sitting there counting some money, in the dark, in the back of the office.

We make eye contact.

He stares, as if he were analyzing my total physique, from the crown of my head to the soul of my feet; within seconds, he digresses from the table, towards me. Thoughts evade my mind, why isn't he exiting the office or asking me to leave?

My body trembles, as he approaches me, "Jhamie, what are you doing in here?" in a calm still voice.

I hasten for my clothes to shield my nakedness. In a typical situation, he should cover his eyes and redirect me to cover up, but he didn't. Instead, He asked me, "Are you going somewhere?"

I hesitated, uncomfortably. It's a little creepy speaking to him without my clothes. "Yes Deacon Jones," I grumbled.

Instead of him turning the other way, he softly extracts my garments from my nervous, sweaty palms and releases them to the floor: My long, blue church dress and the bag with my change of clothes for Emoni's party.

Deacon Jones crotches behind me with one finger lapsed on my mouth, "Shhhhh....I'll never hurt you. Please, don't be afraid."

With his other hand, he pulled my fragile body closer to his, from the rear, "So you not going to tell ole' Deakie where you going?"

Both my parents respect this creep. He was by my mother's side when she took her last breath, at the hospital. I begin to tremble, in fear, deep fear. This isn't the Deacon Jones my family knows.

I respond, respectfully, "Uhm, I'm going to my friends' house Deacon Jones. Please." He softly whispered, "Does your father know?" I replied, "No Deacon. Please stop," trembling in fear. Relax sexy girl," he added.

I'm speechless. I black out without falling. I froze like a statue. Deacon Jones is coming on to me. My family respects this man so much.
I wanted to scream.

I wanted to squeal, just like someone who is dying and pleading mercilessly for help, but I knew that would not be in my best interest.

If deacon were to make up a lie and say that I pursued him, Daddy would most likely believe him. This situation is way different than my father believing me over a new teacher. Deacon Jones has been in our family for years. He and Daddy are comrades from middle and high school. And now, they share a stronger bond and a certain level of reverence since are church brethren. Daddy's central question and spiel to me would be "Jhamie, why did you go to the Pastor's office and get undressed? You know for years that only Deacon Jones and Pastor Smith are allowed entrance in that office. Everyone knows that, even people who barely attend our church." 

Yep, I could hear Daddy, as lucid as the sky is blue and the sun is gold. I could hear him plain as day, if this scandal was to ever be exposed. If I screamed I would have 99 more problems on top of this one. My father would find out that I was not his honest little honeybee butterfly anymore.

Just when things couldn't get any worst, Deacon Jones positioned himself to the rear side of my body, ran his fingers through my hair, "I like your hair style. Is this new?"  "Yes sir." "You're a very pretty sexy girl. Do you know that? I've always told your father that I wish I had a daughter like you."  Rushed with anxiety, I failed to respond again.
I was running out of breath. I prayed this was just a nightmare.

In total silence, his fingers begin to trail the rest of my body, from my hair, then to my neck. Then from my neck to my breast; finally from my breast to caressing my tender stomach. I began feeling an extreme numbness overtaking my body. I wanted to kick, punch, and scream, but I can't. That's what Mommy would've advised me to do, but I can move a muscle. I'm numb.

I can't believe that this is happening to me.

He whispers softly in my ear, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. It's a rugged world out there" he said.

I don't understand why this is happening to me. I want to run out. He has a beautiful wife and four children. I'm  just a teenager.

"Finish putting your clothes on. We wouldn't want people getting the wrong impression," he calmly said. 

"Yes, yes, yes sir," I stuttered in total annihilation.

He showed me out to a back exit. I have no choice but to suck it up and take this one to the grave. My friends will think I'm a weird-o. Daddy would think I'm a whore, and Brandon will think I'm a snitch or rat.

I could never look at Deacon Jones with the same respect, ever, ever again.