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There are some moments that change a person forever. The moment that makes you question everything and leaves you vulnerable to other changes. This was the moment that left me vulnerable to the cult.

I was a sinner that needed to be saved and the church had offered me salvation. I stood there in my parent's bedroom, my head swimming and my body numb. I knew what they wanted from me but I couldn't give it to them. They wanted me to cry. They wanted me to be sorry for what I had done. I was sorry for what I had done but I blamed everyone else but me for it.

The belt was the first thing I was hit with but he couldn't break me. I was too drunk to feel the sting. My lack of tears filled him with rage. The belt marks raked across my back and my legs.

"Damn it Cathy! How could do you this?" He yelled. Sweat poured down his brow from the strain of his efforts to break me.

He was yelling but I couldn't make out most of what he was saying.

"Whore"

"...spread legs,"

"...drunk...boys," the sounds his made echoed in and out of my mind.

I stood there, motionless. Empty. Hollow. I was a shell of myself. His spit hit me in the face as he grew angrier and angrier at my indifference.

The belt wasn't working so he grabbed the broom and had begun to strike me with it. He hit me over and over until the broom broke against my side. The tip of the broom flung off to some distant corner of the room but he didn't break his stride.

He broke it several more times until there was nothing but the sweeper part of the broom in his hand. Perspiration now covered his face. He had exerted himself from hitting me but still, I didn't cry.

Trust me I wanted to. It would have been easier for all of us if I could give him that.

"She isn't sorry," my mother spat. "Look at her just standing there. Are you going to let her make a fool of us?"

I turned my gaze towards her face. There was no love in her eyes. Only bitterness. She felt betrayed and she wanted me to suffer.

Would I suffer tonight? The beer made it impossible. I could barely formulate words, let alone beg for forgiveness. I had nothing left to give him so I had no choice but to allow him to tire himself out.

"Damn it!" He screamed as the last shards of the broom was splintered.

With frustration and resignation, he sent me to my room. He had realized the state of the broom and the lack of repentance that I wore on my face. There would be no redemption. I was beyond saving.

I knew that the morning would hold no solace for me. I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell them I was sorry but instead, I carried myself to my room and closed the door gently behind me. I didn't want to wake my brother.

I laid down on my bed not bothering to change. I looked at my arms, they were covered in welts.

'How did this happen?' I asked myself.

I imagined the rest of me didn't look so great either but I couldn't worry about what I was out of my control. I drifted off into a tormented sleep replaying the events of the evening over and over in my mind. I would never ever forgive Amanda for this betrayal.

'May she rot in the fiery pit of hell and if I'm lucky maybe I will get to drag her there myself.'this thought brought me comfort.

A few short hours later the devil would have his pound of flesh. I woke from this restless slumber to feel the full impact of the night's events.

My body burned in a way I hadn't known was possible. I started to pull myself out of my bed but my back was on fire.

'The fall maybe?' I wondered.

My leg was crusted over and fresh blood was starting to ooze out of the sides. I dragged my body into the bathroom as each step raged against me. Once inside, I peeled the clothes off of me.

Even this simple act took so much effort I started to doubt that I would succeed.

"Breath Cathy," I told myself in an attempt to sooth the ache in my soul.

Once I had stripped down I examined myself in the mirror. My thighs were covered in bruises. Giant black and blue welts that seemed to wrap around my legs like tattoos littered my body. My stomach and my back were overcome by giant bruised welts from where the broom and belt had made contact.

Very little flesh had maintained its normal caramel color. All the way across my back and front and arms the bruises snaked around me. My face was dirty with scrapes and bruises had formed on my chin from when I scraped my face across the fence on the way down. I hadn't even remembered that happening.

My left thigh, still covered in crusted blood, had made it so that the jeans were so hard to take off. I thought I would die right there. My head pounded, and there was a ringing in my ears. The room wouldn't stop spinning.

The room...wouldn't...stop...spinning.

'I need to a shower.' I thought.

I pulled off my underwear and carefully stepped into the tub. This took every ounce of strength that I had and even with that I barely made it. I had sunk so low that I didn't think I would survive.

"You're ok," I whispered to myself. I had to believe that or I wouldn't make it through.

When I got out of the shower I discreetly discarded the jeans. I went into the kitchen and took out one of the kitchen knives.

Emptiness filled my lungs. Hopelessness and dread became my companion and my whispered mantra was lost to the sorrow.

I brought the knife into my bedroom and I quietly closed the door.

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Author's Note: I put out more chapters than normal because this was part of the same scene and I didn't want to leave you hanging. If you liked it please vote it up. Comments are always welcome and a share is appreciated. Thanks for reading.

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