The Don in the CHAPEL

"Arghhh!" I screamed into the pillow as I let my body sink into the softness of the bed. This is probably the nicest thing I’m still allowed to enjoy here. “Sierra!” There she goes again. The woman of the house, never missing a chance to spit my name like venom. The more she says it, the more I hate it. “What took you so long?” I clenched my jaw, swallowing the urge to roll my eyes as she threw me another random errand. God knows she doesn’t need anything at 11:30 p.m. She just enjoys keeping me on my feet, making sure I don’t breathe unless she allows it. I got it done and dragged myself back to the room, hoping sleep would finally find me — but it didn’t. I just lay there. Sierra Mane. Twenty-two. No parents. No love. Not even the kind that you dream of or pretend exists. Maybe I craved it once. But not anymore. Not after the years of living like a stranger in my own skin. Not after knowing that somewhere out there, my mother still lives and breathes — and somehow, I’m the disgrace she left behind. The first tear slipped quietly. Then another. Then more. The darkness comforted me, held me, let me break. I welcomed it because here, I could be vulnerable with myself. I knew that every tick of the clock was dragging me toward another day — another round of pain. I picked up my phone to escape. Scrolled aimlessly until one post caught my eye again. > "Chat with lonely foreigners and earn." I paused. I’d seen this girl’s post before. I’d thought about it — feared it, honestly. I was scared of the internet. But if I could survive this house, maybe I could handle strangers needing company. Maybe I could even earn something. I clicked. I read the testimonies. I sent her a DM. She didn’t reply immediately, and I dozed off. The next morning, I woke up to a text: > “To get access to the full course, make payment here.” Without overthinking, I paid. Hope had already sprouted. I rushed through the morning — prepped my younger cousins, dropped them off at school, and then cleaned the house from top to bottom. My chores only truly end when my aunt walks out the door. And today, thankfully, she did. Freedom. I dashed to get my phone. There it was. The course. I soaked in every instruction, every audio and text. It was overwhelming, but I’d paid for it — and more than that, I needed what it promised. I had dreams, and they deserved a shot. I finally downloaded the app and set up my profile. Curiosity pushed me to explore, to see what “the popular girls” were doing. And that’s when it hit me. I was lied to. It wasn’t just chatting. It wasn’t just comfort. It was nudity. All of it. A sickness settled in my gut. “I can’t do this.” I whispered it, then said it louder. I made the sign of the cross and signed out. So much for hope. So much for my money. I curled up and tried to nap the disappointment away. WHIP! The sound tore through the silence. My aunt — with a cord in her hand. I’d fallen asleep. The kids had knocked and waited outside with no answer. That was enough for her. One strike. Then two. Then more. Until I lost count. Until I bled. Every inch of me ached — but my heart ached more. Because in moments like that, I believed my life would never change. I would always be here, telling myself to be patient. Waiting for something to save me that never would. What do I do? I can’t keep this up. Who do I run to? Thoughts swarmed me, banging like fists on doors inside my head. Even bleeding, I wasn’t spared her voice, her commands, her insults. Finally, when the day surrendered and she calmed down, I picked up my phone again. I returned to the community group from the course. More testimonies were pouring in. My eyes widened at the numbers. More money. More praise. More people saying this changed their lives. I went back to the app. Watched. Scrolled. Observed. I didn’t post. I just watched. And with a deep breath, I knew. Maybe this was my shot. Maybe I wouldn’t stay here forever. If I had to walk this fire, I’d do it for a reason. I’d leave this house with something. With anything. I updated my bio: > “Keys to my heart? Good figures 💸” And laid down, exhausted — body sore, heart restless, mind spinning. The next day, I slipped back into my routine like nothing happened. Dishes. Uniforms. Drops. Cleanups. The same hell. But just as I wiped the counter, Aunt Jane appeared. “I’ll be traveling for a few days.” I replied calmly: “Okay.” Inside, my heart nearly exploded with joy.