Chapter 19 I Had To Let It Out
I stood outside the café, phone clutched tightly in my hand, staring at the screen like it could magically make Mom answer.
No reply. Straight to voicemail again.
The streetlights flickered overhead as I started walking. The night air was cool against my skin, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside me. My legs were still sore from Eli. My mind was a mess of guilt, fear, and confusion. I kept redialing Mom’s number, praying she would pick up on the second ring like she always did.
Nothing.
“Come on, Mom,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Please.”
The path home felt longer than usual. The peaceful town I had grown up in suddenly felt foreign. Trees cast long shadows. Every distant car engine made my heart jump. I remembered the night I felt followed — the rustling bushes, the creak of wood. It had felt like paranoia then. Now it felt like a warning.
I tried calling again. Voicemail.
My pace quickened. I was almost jogging when I heard it.
The low hum of an engine behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder. A black SUV — the same one from my birthday service, the same one parked across the street earlier — was crawling slowly down the road, headlights off, keeping pace with me.
My blood ran cold.
I walked faster. The SUV matched my speed.
Memories flooded back — Mom’s terrified face when she saw those men, Sister Miriam’s “surprise,” the way Elder Ezekiel had looked at me like I was something to be assigned. My town had always been safe. Zero crime. Doors left unlocked. Kids playing outside until late. But after I turned 18, everything changed. The men in suits. Mom’s strange meetings. The way everyone suddenly watched me.
I was tired of being afraid.
I stopped walking.
Mid-track. Right in the middle of the empty road.
I turned sideways, not fully backward, heart hammering. This was stupid. If things went south, I was done for. But I was tired of running. Tired of feeling like prey.
The SUV slowed even more. For a terrifying second, I thought it would stop.
Then it suddenly sped up, tires kicking up gravel as it passed me. The breeze from its speed whipped my ponytail. A small splash of muddy water from a puddle hit my shoe. The car disappeared around the corner without stopping.
I stood there, breathing hard, legs shaking.
What the hell was that?
I rushed the rest of the way home, passing by the church. A car that looked exactly like Mom’s was parked in the side lot. I paused for a second, staring at it.
'What is she doing here?'
But I couldn’t stop. I had to get home. I had to be safe.
When I finally reached the house, it was silent. Dark. Empty.
“Mom?” I called out, voice echoing.
No answer.
I locked the door behind me, microwaved the leftover dish, and sat at the kitchen table, staring at the food without eating. My phone stayed silent. Mom’s car still wasn’t in the driveway.
I was about to call again when I heard the front door open.
I was sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of cold chicken and rice in front of me, untouched. The moment I heard the key turn, I stood up, heart racing.
She looked exhausted. Her nice navy dress was wrinkled, her makeup slightly smudged. She set her bag down and saw me standing there.
“Abby?” Her voice was tired but surprised. “You’re still awake?”
“I called you so many times,” I said, voice shaking. “Your phone was switched off. I was scared something happened to you.”
Mom sighed and rubbed her temples. “I’m sorry, baby. The meeting ran long. My phone died in the car. I didn’t realize until I was driving back.”
She came over and tried to hug me, but I stepped back slightly.
“Those men came to the café today,” I said quietly. “The same ones from my birthday. They talked to me like they knew me. Like they had plans for me. Why are they so interested in me, Mom? Why do you keep leaving at night? Why are you so scared all the time?”
Mom’s face changed instantly. Surprise. Then fear. Then that fierce, overprotective look I’d seen more and more lately.
She grabbed my shoulders, gripping them a little too tightly. “They talked to you? What did they say? Tell me everything, Abby. Every word.”
Her reaction scared me more than the men themselves. She looked ready to fight someone.
“They just said I’ve grown into a fine young woman and that the community has high hopes for me now that I’m eighteen,” I said. “They mentioned the Purity Ball. They said I could have a ‘bright future.’ It felt… wrong. Like they were looking at me like property.”
Mom’s eyes widened. She pulled me into a tight hug, almost crushing me.
“I made a mistake letting you work there,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I thought it would keep you busy and safe. I should have known better. I’m so sorry, baby.”
I pulled back, confused and frustrated. “Why? Why is it a mistake? What are you not telling me? Are you trying to marry me off or something? Those men, the way you’ve been acting — it feels like you’re arranging something behind my back.”
Mom looked genuinely shocked. “What?! Why would you say that?”
“Because those men came to the church a few months ago during my birthday, the same ones with Elder Ezekiel at midnight. Everyone suddenly has interest in me since I turned 18..."
"Abby?..."
"I’ve read about this," I continued. "This is how arranged marriages used to happen. In the 1800s, 1900s… parents deciding everything. Is that what you’re doing?”
“What?…” Mom’s voice was now low, dangerous.
“No, Mom. Stop.” Tears spilled down my cheeks. All the emotions I’d been holding inside broke loose. “If you want to sell me off to some stranger, that’s very wicked of you. I’m your daughter, not some bargaining chip for the church.”
Mom’s face twisted with anger. “How dare you say that to me?” Her hand flew up, ready to slap me.
I closed my eyes, bracing for it.
The slap never came.
Mom took a very deep breath, lowering her hand slowly. Her shoulders shook.
“I’m not doing this with you tonight,” she said, voice hoarse. “I can’t.”
She turned and walked upstairs. Her footsteps went up the stairs… but not toward her own room.
They went toward MY room.
I stood there, confused, angry, and sad all at once. Tears kept falling. I had never spoken to Mom like that. She had never almost hit me. Everything was falling apart.
Then it hit me.
My favorite erotica book — 'Foorbidden Desires' — was wide open on my bed. It had been lying there for days, and I had forgotten to hide it or close it.
“Shit,” I whispered, panic surging through me.
I ran upstairs as quietly as I could.
Mom was already at my door.