Donatella
Kelly stuffed the last bit of his clothing into his duffle bag. “So, it begins,” he whispered, throwing the bag over his shoulder.
Word had just come down that coed living quarters in The Blood of The Chosen compound were to be no more. Even the married couples were to separate.
Robert, or Bobby Lee as some of the others called him, had delivered a sermon the night before, stressing the need for total submission to the Lord, quoting 1 Thessalonians 4:3-5.
“For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you should abstain from sexual immorality; that each of you should know how to possess his own vessel in sanctification and honor, not in passion of lust, like the Gentiles who do not know God.”
According to Robert Lee Khal, sex was a distraction, pulling one’s love and attention from God. In twenty-four hours, several gender segregated dormitories had been formed within the commune.
Donna and Kelly had only been there a few days, but they’d already received several coveted invitations to dine with the prophet. On every occasion, he seemed fixated on Donna. So much so that she was invited, along with a handful of women, to stay in one of his private houses. It was supposedly a privilege and, hopefully, a huge change from the overcrowded dormitories with inadequate bathroom facilities. Compared to the dorms, Robert’s private quarters were rumored to be like the Four Seasons.
Kelly handed Donna her backpack. “Remember, you know exactly where I am. If you need to get out of there, get out. Fuck the case. Your safety comes first. Do you understand?’
“Yes, Kelly, for the thousandth time, I understand,” Donna assured. “I’ll be fine.”
Kelly was obviously worried. Surprisingly, more worried than she was.
“You okay?” she asked. “You still here with me, right?”
“Yeah. I just don’t like this fucking guy. I don’t trust him. But, try not to worry. I’m always watching.”
“I’m not worried.” Donna chuckled. “You try not to worry. I can handle myself. And, if need be, I’ll run like a track star.”
Kelly smiled for the first time since he found out that they were to be separated.
“Okay. I’ll never be too far.”
“I know. Come on. Let’s go drop this bag off at the big house.” Donna grinned. “We don’t wanna be late for church.”
“Church!” Kelly scoffed. “Can’t be late for that shit.”
“Blessed be,” Donna mocked.
“Yeah, okay. Just don’t drink the Kool-Aid.”
* * *
Two hours after an extremely boring, self-serving sermon, Donna was entering her new living quarters. After turning down two long hallways, she was led to a large bedroom with two king-sized beds, positioned opposite each other. A door next to a large window suddenly opened. Vera, the girl she’d met at the rally, peered around the door.
“You made it!” she exclaimed with a huge smile. “The first time I saw you, I knew you would be chosen.”
She entered the room and plopped down on the bed. Donna raised a brow at the woman.
“Chosen? What exactly have I been chosen for?”
Vera laughed. “Look around. You’ve entered paradise. You’ve been handpicked. You’ll wed the Messiah.”
Donna frowned at the goofy, young chick. She, for sure, had drunk the Kool-Aid. She was downright giddy, definitely delusional. Paradise? It was a freaking bedroom with dooky-green walls, an old schoolroom desk, and a tiny window.
“You and I are gonna be roomies,” she announced with overexaggerated enthusiasm.
Donna stared at the woman, wondering what could have possibly happened in her young life to make her so easily susceptible to cult-inspired brainwashing.
“And, you?” Donna asked. “Are you to wed the prophet?”
“Yes!” she screeched, bouncing up and down on the bed.
