Alisha

It’s not easy living in a home where your family worships every word in the bible. Although many may think that’s an exaggeration but I assure you, its not.

It wasn’t always like this. I was permitted to have birthday parties when I was a little girl; the kind of parties with presents, cake and hot dogs. You know the kind I’m talking about. Parties all “normal” kids have. Well that all ended about 6 years ago.
My 12th birthday was coming up and I had planned to have half the school there. It was going to be my greatest party ever. The week before my party my mom and dad pulled me into the living room and told me that mother was pregnant and our family is going to convert to Christianity to give the new baby a better environment to grow up in. At first I thought nothing of it. I mean I was only 11 years old turning 12 and I was going to have a baby sister or brother.
Everything from that moment on went hell bound.

My parents started getting obsessed with the bible and we had to read it in the morning, after supper, and before bedtime. But they soon found out that it was much too difficult for me to get into the spirit of “Bible time” that they decided to read 3 chapters after supper and 1 at bedtime. Of course you’d think as soon as we read the whole thing that would be the end of it. Who would have thought by the age 18 I would have read the bible 10 times? As soon as my mother gave birth to my little sister my dad started to purchase other Christian books. Such as: David and Goliath, Noah’s arch, Mary and baby Jesus…etc. You name it and it had crossed his mind to buy it or he already had it.

He claimed it was for Marisa. I remember my mother saying, “Marisa has to learn as much as she can at such a young age Alisha. She is at a fragile age in her life and she has to come to know her savior and make him her first friend.” She was so serious it scared me.

Another thing you should know is that my parent’s absolutely forbid parties, dances, fashionable clothes, computers with Internet, any kind of music with a beat, and I wasn’t permitted to be so much as 5min late at curfew time. And if I was sick with the flu it was a sign that the devil was attacking my immune system. This is what my life was like. But it would get worse I fear.

I am 18 years old and I haven’t had a proper date for fear my father would catch me and I would never hear the end of it. My mother is more lenient with matter such as clothing, after all she liked skirts and blouses herself, she also wasn’t so hard on me when it came to books I read, and my friends. But she never says anything or that would be considered going against her religion and fathers rules. I consider myself an attractive woman so naturally if I wanted I could have no problems finding a man. I have thick brown very curly hair, light brown eyes, with an average figure, and nice bust and tiny waste.

My alarm woke me up at 7am. I rubbed the ground from my eyes and walked to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I had a few minutes before breakfast so I decided to call Trista, my best friend, and make plans for tonight’s big party…providing my parents don’t find out, of course.

“Hey Trista, how are you?” I asked.

“Oh Hi Alisha, I am good. Still going to tonight’s big party or did Mommy and Daddy find out?” She giggled at her own remark.

“Oh Trista I am shocked, you don’t really doubt my abilities to dodge the parents do you?” I joked.

“Alisha! Breakfast time. Who are you talking to on the phone at this hour?” I heard my father shout.

“Uh oh, my bitchy father wants me off the phone.” I groaned.

“Better watch your language Miss Maxilla, or your dad is going to have you in the confession booth for the rest of your life!” She laughed hysterically.

“Very funny!” I snarled.

“I really got to go now. I will see you at school” I said and hung up.

My stomach was growling and I couldn’t wait to sit down to a nice hot breakfast and mentally plan for this party tonight. Just as I sat down at the kitchen table my bacon and eggs were brought to me. I smiled at my mom, “Thanks mom it smells delicious!” I exclaimed.

“I can hardly wait to dig in.” I picked up my silverware and starting to cut a piece of my bacon and egg. I was about to take a bit out of my toast when my father came in and that’s when it started…

“What is the meaning of this Alisha!?” my Mother practically screamed. I was so alarmed at this I dropped my fork and the food I had gathered on it. “

What?” I asked surprised.

“Do I need to remind you of everything Jesus has done for you?” she asked.

“No mother I am in a hurry this morning but I said my prayers this morning and blessed my own food.”
I smiled convincingly. She pondered my explanation for a moment and softened her expression. I thought what a pity that she wastes her beauty on a boring life like this. I had my mother’s brown eyes and her slender figure, and she was about 5’4.

Mother wore a velvet blouse and a long black skirt. She wore no jewelry or makeup, but she used to. And she had her hair pinned up in a bun. I always wore my hair down unless I was going to a party or out with friends. Where I got my curly brown hair from is beyond me. My hair was so curly and thick my friend’s thought I curled it everyday. But it was just naturally like this.

My father was a tall slender man. And always wore a tux. He had short black hair and green-blue eyes. He also had a bushy mustache.

“Well still this is a meal, and families have meals together Alisha you should know that. Your father left the room one-minute and your acting like a savage.”

I decided it would be best for my little sister to set a good example for her and just apologize. It was sickening that poor Marisa was being molded into a robot and would never have any freedom. I thank my lucky stars that when I was 6 I had a life. I smiled at her and rubbed her soft golden yellow hair.
Her hair was so beautiful, it had ringlet curls like mine, and her hair was soft like silk and very fine.

She had the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. Dark Ocean blue eyes and her voice was another thing I loved; she talked softly and never raised her tone, she always looked up at you with such curiosity.

She was really something to take pride in.

Today she was wearing a knee length pink dress with lace around the hem and neck with her usual birthstone studs in. She had her ears pierced like me when she was 3 but all she was permitted to wear was those studs.
I wore whatever earrings I wanted, and she wasn’t allowed to wear any make up, which was another thing I did. But occasionally when she would watch me get ready for one of my affairs and I would put a little bit of lipstick on her. She looked like a little model. Sometimes I would laugh to myself when I looked at her. She really warmed my heart.

For the past 3 years I had been trying to avoid the life they were putting her through. Pretending I believed in something I didn’t to me was just wrong. I have a scientific view of things, which is weird considering the life I had been living for the past 6 years.

“How do you really know God is real daddy? He never does anything for us or feeds the poor or gives people jobs and good grades does he? You can’t see him can you daddy?” I remembered asking him all those questions when I was first introduced to the almighty Lord above.

All he said was, “My sweet Alisha, seeing isn’t always believing, sometimes you have to believe in things you can’t see.”

Yeah, sure. Thank you dad but I think I will just stick with my books and trees and sky and clouds…you know things you can see or touch. The thought of something that powerful that you can’t see or touch such as God and the devil just puts a cold chill down my spine. Another thing that has always bugged me is that there was no beginning to God; he always was and always will be.

It’s too hard to believe. I mean everything has a beginning. It’s one thing to love and worship something that’s invisible, like an invisible friend, that you envy a lot; that I can understand. But it’s quite another for them to expect me to accept that he was always there.
Of course to envy is to sin.
How can I trust in something I can’t see? That’s the way I think of it. My poor little Marisa is going to have a long life ahead of her.

We said our prayers and I gobbled up my food, excused myself, and went up to my room to get my books for school together. And changed into my thigh length blue dress, pinned my hair up. Then I took Marisa by her hand and walked her to her school, since it’s on the way I walk her every morning.

Just as I walked up the stairs to my school the bell rang. I was late. Thank God my teachers don’t call home for late arrivals. I heard they do in a school somewhere in the states. But I live in a small town named Derile.


“Well Miss Maxilla I am so glad you could grace us with your presence.” The teacher remarked.

The class laughed. Sometimes I wished they would report to your parents that you were late instead of ridiculing you in front of the whole class. At least I could use Marisa for an excuse to my parents for my being late, or blame our morning prayers and try to save Marisa’s childhood.

“Sorry Mrs. Campbell I will try not to be late anymore.” I smiled and took my seat with the rest of the class.

She kept her gaze on me, “See that it doesn’t Miss. Maxilla, poor attendance doesn’t look good on your permanent record. And it’s to my understanding you are applying to Harvard are you not?” She asked.

She wore a long ankle dress. It was flowered and very tacky if you asked me. She had short black hair, and kept it cut to her ears, it had a shaggy look to it, almost as if she had never touched a brush let alone used one.
Mrs. Campbell was a very chunky woman, about 5’0 and always wore the same pair of black worn out shoes. She was actually widowed but since her husband died only but 2 years ago she still kept his name. And for some reason she was always very grotesquely pale.

“Yes Mrs. Campbell I’m sorry.” I opened my books and turned my gaze away.

Finally the tension was relieved when she began to teach class again.

“Alisha, that was a close one. It’s the night of the party you know, you can’t afford to chance any phone calls home and get grounded.” Trista whispered.

“I know I was describing my old birthday parties to Marisa on the way. I guess I lost track of time.” I shook my head disappointed in myself.

“Yeah ok, just don’t let anything else slip or your toast for the party.” Trista reminded me.

Trista was a very attractive girl. She had long red straight hair, she kept it long shoulder length. She wore a strapless top that hugged her bosoms, and shorts that are also known as “hot pants.” She had green eyes, thin lips and she had a model like body, and a clear complexion, like me; She was also about my height, which was 5’6.

I always envied her for that, I remember expressing that to my mother when I first met Trista and my mother just quoted one of the 10 commandments: “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's.”

“Did you check out that new guy?” Trista asked as she signaled for me to look answering her own question.


She was always trying to hook me up with some hotty I guess to see if I can out hunk her sexy boyfriend, Tommy Mclearan. Where do I begin to describe Tommy Mclearan…?

He was of course the captain of the football team, very muscular, blonde hair, blue eyes, about 6’0. Typical jock if you ask me, but I had to admit he was a very handsome man and also very kind hearted, exactly the type of guy you would envision Trista dating. She was very obnoxious about it as well, gloating to all the other preppy girls that he was HER property; she did everything short of tattooing “property of Trista Lorhan” on his forehead.

I turned my head and looked at the new guy. He had deep brown eyes, and light brown straight hair kept clean and cut short. He was wearing a Grey T-shirt with a dark blue pull over, and a dark pair of blue jeans. He had a light tan and I was estimating he was about 6’0. As soon as I set eyes on him I swear my heart skipped a beat.

“He definitely is dreamy,” I replied blushing.

She giggled, “Alisha, your blushing…hey why not ask him to this party. He’s a new guy and needs to meet new and interesting people.” Trista suggested.

I thought a moment and decided I would. The bell rang and class was dismissed. I had a 10-minute break before I had to go to math so I decided to introduce myself. I tapped him on the shoulder,

“Hi, I’m Alisha.” I said smiling.

He turned around and smiled at me, “Ello, sorry I’m rather new here, my name is Devon.”

I smiled my sweetest smile at him. He had the sexiest accent I had ever heard, and his smile could melt ice. I fumbled with my tongue to get my words out and finally managed to speak,

“So hey, there’s this big party tonight and I was wondering--” He cut me off.

“I’d love to.” He replied.

I smiled at him and we talked about Australia and how he grew up there. I was so intrigued but a bit nervous because how would I tell this incredible amazing guy that my parents were obsessed about Jesus?
It was so embarrassing.

Luckily the bell rang. Ironically that saying served well: “Saved by the bell.”

I turned to him and gave him a quick hug. I wasn’t sure how he would react since we had only just met but I had a good feeling about this guy.

“See you later…meet me at the park on Centennial Square at 6 o’clock ok?” I reminded him.

I figured that was a good place to meet since it was far enough away from my place but close enough to his and the party.

“Sure mate, whatever you want” He smiled at me and winked, and then he walked away.

It seemed like minutes went like hours. I was so bored at school today and excited about this party. It was the first party of the year and they are always good. How would I know? Well let’s just say I’m not the ‘Goody-Goody’ people often take me for. I have been attending alcohol parties for 2 years. It felt good to have a life and be like all the other kids although I had to be on time at curfew my parents never seem to notice the cigarette smoke on my clothes.
It was always a pain in the ass to change into my clothes at the party but that’s ok as long as it meant getting away from them. I always wore my sweater and long skirt over my party outfits. And when I got to the party I just took them off and had a great time. By the time I got home every night my parents were in bed. But they had such trust in me that they assumed I was on time all the time. I just had one word for them: Gullible!

Not like I am complaining or anything, I mean it’s great having parents that trust you that much, it makes it easier to sneak in and out. I had to snicker to myself. I mean my parents are so obsessed with God that they don’t even realize that I have plans to go to a huge party with drugs and alcohol.
See it really doesn’t pay off to be a believer in God. I mean if you think about it, you focus way too much on something that isn’t even real. I say hang back and relax. My parent’s are so worried that I will go to hell they don’t see what’s going on around them; parties, boys, drugs, and that I do everything against the rules.

-----------------------------

I had just finished supper and was now sitting in my room debating on what to wear. I had a lock put on my door a long time ago and luckily my parents never questioned why. I guess they understood that a teenager needs privacy. I’m actually surprised that privacy isn’t a sin. I laughed.
So I locked my door and opened my chest where I hide all my fashionable clothes that I bought with my allowance money or outfits my friends had given me.

First I pulled out a yellow halter-top shirt. It had no back and it just tied around your neck. I liked this particular top the most because it was also a belly shirt. I reached into the chest and pulled out my strapless bra and laid it on the bed beside my shirt.

Next I looked for a good pair of pants to wear to match this shirt. I then pulled out a pair of hip hugger jeans that I had sewn some soft bunny tail like material around the waste and the bottoms flared out.?I had also stitched the word ‘sexy’ in red print on one of the ass cheeks. I thought It looked better in handwriting so I hand wrote it diagonally. It added that extra touch to it.

If anything all this sneaking around with my wardrobe taught me to be more creative and artistic. There is no way I could afford to buy one outfit a week with the amount of allowance I receive. Instead I have to improvise.
When I was 16 I started tearing apart my “age appropriate” or “modest” clothes and decided to experiment. Some of the outfits actually had some good color schemes to them its just that the designs made me look like the big bad wolf in the old grannies night-gown when I wore it. Most of those ones were strickly reserved for “church” on those special occasions when my parents actually were able to get me to go.

I wouldn’t actually say it was by “choice” in fact I guarantee they damn well forced me to that … cult worshipping building; you couldn’t pay me all the money in the world to go willfully.

During supper I was informed that my parents had to attend a church meeting tonight and wouldn’t be back till past my curfew. They were probably leaving soon. So I didn’t have to cover up my outfit. On their way to the church they were going to drop Marisa off at Aunt Ruby’s, yet another believer. Their original plan was to give me some money to rent a couple “suitable movies” and take care of Marisa. But I told them I had prior plans.
Then I got a lecture on how I always make my friends more important then family. Which wasn’t true at all, I would have loved to rent some movies and pop some popcorn with Marisa. But it just so happens that I had a date, but of course they didn’t know about that.

They hated to burden my Aunt. They even tried to give me the guilt trip on how I know my Aunt has a heart condition and I should try and make more of an effort to help out around the house and with family affairs and that Aunt Ruby shouldn’t be running after a 6 year old.
?
?My Aunt Ruby was a short woman, about 5’4, and she was a bit big boned from being so out of shape. She actually wore clothing that was a bit more updated then my parents. Once I found her in a white tank top, and black pants, her hair was done up very nice, make-up, and sneakers. My aunt wore only rings as jewelry. She had peach hair and grey eyes. I didn’t see any problem with her looking after Marisa. She loved her almost as much as me, and treated her with such hospitality. So nothing my parents say would make me feel guilty. They were not going to ruin this night for me.

I heard a loud tap at my door which quickly broke my train, I turned to answer the door when suddenly I realized I still had my party clothes on my bed. I frantically rushed about trying to figure out where to hide them when finally I realized there was no other place so I stuffed my clothes under my bed.
I had to quickly close the chest and put my blanket and stuffed animals back ontop.

It was my dad.

“Hi, were you busy?” he asked curiously.

I looked around seeing nothing out of the ordinary and decided to invite him in.

“No if you want you can come in…” I was actually hoping he would say no. He did.

“No that’s alright sweetheart. I just came up here to tell you that your mother and I are on our way out, but we would really like you to reconsider. Please sweetie your mother and I never really go out anymore, why not just call your friends over here?” he looked so desperate.

If only I could tell him the truth. If only I wasn’t going to a party and wasn’t actually just going to the arcade to hang with my friends.

“Daddy, I really can’t I already promised Trista I would be there. And there is this new guy in town and I wanted to show him around…you know where to go and where to stay away.” I suggested.

I was fighting back a smile. I think I handled that rather well, because my dad is always expressing his concerns about our generation and how we are always going places we shouldn’t and that’s the problem nowadays. He thinks because kids my age sometimes want to go see a scary movie or make out with their boyfriends instead of going to church that makes them a sinner, or a bad person.

“Well now I understand, of course you can’t cancel. If one of those skater boys gets a hold of him he’ll be doomed that’s my girl, go save his soul sweetheart.” My father declared.

I shook my head, “Daddy, you can’t stereotype the skaters. Not all skaters are bad news.”

He smiled, “Your right Alisha, so right. I am now certain that we brought you up in a proper way. I now feel that there is nothing you can’t tell me. Don’t you?” He questioned me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat away. My veins were throbbing. I felt my cheeks burning up. I hated lying to him.

“Yes daddy, you brought me up well and there is nothing I can’t tell you.” I lied.

Satisfied with my reply he kissed me on my forehead then walked away. I let my head drop in shame and slowly closed my door.

I had my own bathroom so I walked in there and splashed some cold water on my face hoping that would dissipate the feeling of guilt. Then I felt a little dizzy so I decided to go sit on the toilet and get a grasp on myself. I sat there and thought of everything they had given me; a lock on my door, allowance, my own bathroom, my private phone line. And after all that I still lied to them. Sometimes with the way Daddy phrased his questions it was as if he knew. He knew that I had boyfriends, wore these clothes, and lied to him…the thought of that made me ill. I suddenly had the urge to throw up. So I did.
One-day daddy, one day I will tell you everything…but how? I had begun my own spider’s web. My own web of lies…but I knew there was no telling him, no matter how much I wanted to I had made my bed and now I must lay in it.