Ecstasy

Chapter 2

Yasmin:

My breath got caught in my throat. My fingers curled and uncurled as anxiety seized my body, making everything stop.

“I… I’m sorry. I got… I got my period, and I was really hungry, and I didn’t…”

“And you didn’t wait for the other sisters,” he cut in, glaring at me, his hands shaking at his side. “I have raised you in this place since the day you were born. You are twenty-one, and you have been getting your period for the past eight years. You should be used to this! You should be stronger!”

“I tried.–”

My composure shattered, and hot tears streamed down my face.

“–I tried my best, Dad. I was in so much pain. I really tried.”

His breathing was deep and heavy, his stare was unblinking, and a glint flashed in his emerald eyes.

“You allowed the devil to mislead you. You listened to the desires of your flesh, and that was why you ate. There is nothing more to it.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply through his mouth. His voice dropped and made my breath catch.

“Bring me a basin, Yasmin.”

My cries were reduced to silent tears as I did as I was told. I fetched the basin and, back where I had been standing, there was a stool.

“Place it on the stool and close your eyes.”

Fear shot through every fibre of my body, but I knew better than to disobey. My mind played mean tricks on me as I heard the sound of switches clicking and water pouring. A whirring sound tormented me for minutes, and soon all was silent. The sound of my dad’s footsteps drew closer and soon, they stopped right in front of me.

“Your eyes are closed, Yasmin?”

I nodded silently, and more tears streamed down my face. He breathed deeply; my breathing hitched.

“Stretch out your hands.”

“Please,” I begged, my voice barely audible, choked by unshed tears.

“Stretch out your hand, Yasmin. This is for your own good. What does Hebrews twelve, verses six to eight say?”

I sobbed loudly. He made me say it every time he punished me. I had spent my whole life reading the Bible but this verse… it plagued me in my dreams.

“What. Does. It. Say. Yasmin?”

I drew a deep breath and began to speak.

“For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth…”

I felt nothing at first as the water trickled down my hands and fingers, but in a split second, I was consumed by hot, scalding pain. My voice filled the room, and my dad held my hands in place as I tried to pull away.

“Please! Please!”

“Finish what you started, Yasmin!”

“And… and…”

My voice shook as more scalding water poured on my hand, licking my flesh and pulling my skin off layer by layer as I cried, unable to pull away.

“...and scourgeth every… every… son whom he receiveth.”

I dared not open my eyes. I was afraid of what I might see: my blistering skin, my dad’s face and the steaming water. Tears continued to flow.

“...If ye endure chastening, G-G-God dealeth with you… as with sons…”

My knees trembled beneath me. I could feel myself fading. The steam filled my face and I sweated profusely, drowning my tears.

“...for what son… is… is he whom the father… chasteneth not?...”

“You are almost done, Yasmin. Finish, and this punishment will end.”

His voice was the only thing keeping me from crossing to the other side, keeping me from reaching the light I saw at the end of the tunnel. My skin no longer felt anything: no pain, no pleasure, nothing.

“...But if ye be without ch-chastisement, whereof all… all are partakers, t-then are ye bastards… and not sons.”

The water stopped, and my dad let go of my wrists. I lost my footing and fell backwards, rushing to the floor but he caught me and laid my head on his lap.

“Yasmin…”

I felt a hand stroke my face and when I opened my eyes, I was looking up at him. His green eyes were moist, and a tear dropped from them to my face.

“...know that this hurts you as much as it hurts me.”

He pulled me close to his chest and cried even harder. My body was weak, my skin tingled, and I couldn’t even move my head to see my marred hands.

He loved me…

That was what I told myself every time he did this to me. He wanted me to be better, stronger. He was doing this for my good. It hurt him when I messed up, when I made him do this. It was all my fault, and this was what I deserved.

A tear rolled down my wet face, and I closed my eyes and allowed myself to be taken into the quiet darkness.

~~~

I sat quietly on one of the pews. My hands were bandaged, and I was staring into empty space. I tried to pray for forgiveness, but nightmares of what happened yesterday plagued my mind. My father left on his sabbatical and didn’t even care to say goodbye to me. I couldn’t blame him. It must have been hard for him to keep the discipline as a priest. I couldn’t forget his tears, his soft voice and sobs. Why did I have to make him hurt himself?

“Sister Yasmin.”

I raised my head and saw Sister Gwen storming towards me with her eyes sharp and her nose held up as if she always smelled a horrid stench.

“Good morning, Sister,” I whispered, standing up and curtsying deeply. Her narrow almond eyes swooped down on my hands, and her lips fought a smile.

“We need you to go to the home of one of our members at 4th Grace Avenue. She is dying soon, and you must prepare her for the Last Rites. A priest will be coming in the evening, and he will deliver the rites to her tomorrow morning.”

Without waiting for an answer, she stormed away. She saw my hands, and she was trying to make me suffer even more. I deserved it. Sin was to be punished; else I would burn in the fiery pits of hell, a fate worse than anything I would feel now.

As I stood up, my hand slipped and pressed the wood a little too hard, causing pain to shoot through me, but I muffled my scream with my hand over my mouth. This was the punishment I deserved. The good priest, my dad, had done this to save my soul from hell, and I would be forever grateful to him.