PROLOGUE
Elise Marshay Hunter
EIGHTEEN YEARS AGO
“There will be an overwhelming amount of temptation and sin dressed up as a good time when you get to college. The things you might’ve been exposed to in high school will not compare. However, you must remember how we raised you. You might be out of our sight, but God sees all. The flesh is weak, but you must remember to guard your body and mind like the sacred grounds they are,” my father lectured as we pulled into an unfamiliar parking lot two blocks shy of my usual doctor’s office.
That was probably the hundredth lecture I was subjected to since receiving my acceptance letter to FAMU. I knew better than to roll my eyes, though, that would lead to further lectures. Peering out of the window, the lecture was forgotten when I realized we weren’t at my usual doctor’s office. Reading the sign out front, my eyebrows instantly furrowed.Gynecologist.
Rolling my eyes, I knew they were about to ruin one of the best weekends of my life for a second time in the matter of a month. The last time was the day after prom. After having the time of my life and meeting the eleven o’clock curfew, I was instantly knocked off cloud nine when I woke up the next morning. One of my messy classmates took a video of me slow dancing with Rashawn; his hands were placed appropriately on my sides as I grinned up at him.
A smirk crept on my face because I remembered that exact moment. Rashawn’s deep voice was paying me a compliment.“Who knew you had all of that body beneath your baggy clothes?”
Rashawn was my brother’s best friend, and the dance was impromptu. I don’t even think it was the brief slow dance with Rashawn that set my parents off. It was the fact that we were side by side with my twin and his girlfriend, and rumors were swirling that I left prom with Rashawn.
My parents forbade me from speaking with Essex after they kicked him out. Initially, I complied with their demand for months and ignored my other half. Although I loved my twin unconditionally, I saw how the entire family and congregation fell in line, refusing to take Essex in after one mistake. If it wasn’t for Victoria and Rashawn’s parents, my brother would’ve been on the streets.
The disowning didn’t last long on my end, though. I felt like a piece of me was missing when they kicked Essex out. There were only so many times I could walk past him in the hallway or ignore his attempts to talk to me. I’ll admit, there was a slight bit of coercion that brought me and Essex back together again. My twin knew me better than anyone else in the world. I loved wrestling, but the sport didn’t fit your typical gender norms, so my parents were vehemently against me joining the team.
Subsequently, I settled for the team manager position, ensuring the mats were set up for home games, operating the scoreboard, and other errands that the coach would assign. It took a lot of convincing for my parents to allow me to accept that position because I was no longer able to join the youth bible study on Thursdays. If I hadn’t pleaded my case that the team manager position would look amazing on my college applications, I could already tell that they were prepared to thwart those plans. Although I couldn’t get in on the action, I was ecstatic to be in close proximity to the team.
As Essex shed the shackles that were our parents’ expectations, he became carefree and forged the permission slips for me to join the wrestling team. I was not privy to Essex’s plan. I came to practice ready to set up, and the coach tossed me a suit and told me to get dressed because he received the permission slip and other release forms. Assuming that my parents were suddenly on board, I got dressed and joined the practice, loving every second of it. Afterwards, Essex approached me and blackmailed me into talking to him.
I wanted to be angry with Essex, but I enjoyed myself so much that I decided to remain on the team with the promise that the misdeed would stay between the two of us. Communication with Essex resumed, and wrestling was how we were able to spend time together. There wasn’t a single person connected to my parents or the church on the team, minimizing my risk of being found out. Spending time with Essex subsequently meant I spent time with Victoria and Rashawn as well. They watched every practice and cheered me on for every match, and my parents were none the wiser.
Since prom night, my parents got it in their heads that I left prom with Rashawn to have sex. The countdown to get out of Brooksville couldn’t move fast enough since that night.
“Elise!” My mother’s shrill voice tore through my thoughts.
“Yes, ma’am,” I glanced at her.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“No, ma’am,” I admitted.
“I said your choices are a reflection of us, your faith, and the Lord. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I nodded.
She nodded before they opened their doors simultaneously. I followed suit, exiting the truck with them. “What are we doing here? I thought we were going to the doctor’s office.” I questioned my parents.
“This will be one of your new doctors,” my father replied.
Centering myself, I took slow, deep breaths, walking behind my parents into the building.
“Good morning, Pastor Hunter and Sister Hunter,” the receptionist greeted them by name.
I didn’t have to look up to know that smoker’s voice. It was Mrs. Jean from the church. She looked and sounded like she smoked two or three packs a day. My face instantly frowned at Mrs. Jean because I had a sneaky suspicion that it was her daughter, Faith, who recorded that video and spread those rumors about me. I didn’t know why Faith seemed to hate me. She was the reason the other kids at the school and church called me “bag lady” since I was in fifth grade. The reference was to the baggy clothes my parents forced on me when my body went through puberty.
“We just saw you last week, Sister Hunter. Are you back already?” She continued.
“Oh yeah, we are here for Elise today.”
“Ohhhhh yeeeeeeeah,” she drawled. The undertone translated tooh yeah, I heard she was fornicating.
“Good morning, Elise,” she waved when she noticed me behind my parents. Just as fake as her daughter.
“Good morning, Mrs. Jean.” I flashed a forced smile.
