The Religion Story

Chapter 3
For the next few days, I spend the majority of my time with Riley. We talk and do things together for countless hours, never getting bored of each other's company. We never run out of things to talk about either, and we share stories and secrets with each other, something I've never done with another person. I've always been very independent. Don't get me wrong, I've had a lot of "friends," but none of them were people that I would voluntarily spend time with outside of school and church. Riley is different though. He is probably the first real friend that I've ever had, and I love being able to have someone that I can depend on and share my thoughts with. It doesn't matter that we've only known each other for such a short time, because in a real friendship, time isn't important. I am <<happier>> than I can ever remember being, and I act as such too. I am more friendly with others, I smile more often. I feel confident, holding my head high. I walk with a spring in my step, and people notice my change of character, my change of atitude towards others.
But that isn't the only thing that people notice. It isn't usual-or encouraged- that a servant and noble act as friends, and people gossip. They approach me about it, but I wave off their concerns, insisting that it can't possibly matter who I spend my time with- noble or not. I don't even take time to think about what they are saying until one day, when my dad calls me to his study.
After dressing up in a simple, white, knee length dress and brushing through my hair, I quietly walk downstairs to meet him. I make my way down the hallway with portraits of all of the presidents before my father, and now I am standing in front of the huge oak door that leads to his study. I knock twice tentatively, waiting for permission to enter. "Come in," my father's voice booms.
I open the door and slip inside. I am standing in a large circular room that is probably big enough for a small family to live in. The walls are deep burgundy, and the carpet is the kind of thick, creamy beige that makes me marvel at how the maids manage to keep it clean. The walls are bare, and the only furniture is a big filing cabinet and a huge mahagony desk in the middle of the room. My father sits behind it, filling out some important-looking papers. He doesn't look up when I come in, and I have to wait a few minutes- and inconspicuously cough several times- before he notices me. His stringy, gray hair is brushed back and flattened, and the folds and lines of his once-creamy skin are made prominent in the unnatural light coming from the lamp that is hanging from the ceiling.
We stare at each other for a long time, silently daring the other to look away, until he finally blinks and I feel like I have accomplished a small victory.
"You know why you are here Payton."
Do I? I think about this for a moment. I have made the connection that this must have something to do with me befriending Riley, but I don't really know why this is such a big deal. Of course, I could also be totally wrong and my dad might have called me to his office for a completely different reason. With this in mind, I decide that my best bet is to play dumb.
"No sir, I really don't know why I am here."
He stares at me for a while, thinking. He must see through my weak act, but he decides to play along.
"A little bird told me that you have been spending a lot of time with a certain Riley Fika," Fika? I didn't know that was his last name. "I assume you know that he is from a very poor family with no social standing whatsoever and 5 greedy children to feed?"
I stare at my father. Greedy children? That's ironic coming from the father of someone who has had anything and everything she ever wanted. And, okay, that someone is me, but compared to Riley's siblings, I must seem like the greediest, most spoiled teenager in the country.
"Do you or do you not know this, Payton?" His voices is filled with a coldness that sends shivers up and down my spine.
"Yes sir."
"And you know that he is a servant?" He sneers at the word.
I look down. "Yes."
"So why are you wasting your time with worthless trash like him? You can have any boy you want, and you choose him?!" The life has returned to my father's voice, and his anger is now directed at me.
I hate being stuck in these kinds of situations. But something that he said has caught my attention. I can have any boy I want? What's that supposed to mean, that I'm so easy to get and so desperate that it's no challenge to get me to fall in live with someone? That makes me sound like a complete slut, and if that's what my father has meant to say, then props to him for insulting me. But there's something else. Why did he even mention other boys? Does he think that me and Riley are TOGETHER? Can a guy and a girl really not be friends without everyone assuming that they are in love? There's nothing romantic between Riley and me. Sure, I think about us being together, at night in my dreams, but right now my friendship with Riley is too important to risk mentioning that.
But my father thinks that we're dating? Then does everyone else think that too? They must, or they wouldn't make such a big deal about it.
I'm still staring at the floor, at my shoes, at the desk-anywhere but my father.
"Dad..." I start.
He glares at me.
"Sir," I correct myself, "me and Riley aren't... You know... TOGETHER."
His dark eyebrows rise in fake shock, "that's not what I've heard."
"Well maybe you've heard wrong," I contradict him, then quickly look down, blushing and add, "sir."
"I am fairly certain that I have reliable sources," he says. "I expect you to spend your time more constructively Payton. I don't want to hear another piece of gossip about the two of you. Do you understand?"
"I understand, sir."
"And one more thing. Seeing as you see him so often and favour him, I suggest that you tell Riley this too. We wouldn't want him to get in any trouble, now would we?" He smiles evily and spits when he says "Riley." I just nod, paralyzed.
He drops his head and goes to work on his stupid papers again, and that is my cue to leave. I take another moment to glare at my father, but I don't dare say anything. When the door is closed behind me, I head for the front entrance instead of the staircase. I need some fresh air.
The moment I step outuside and am assaulted by the fierce wind, my head is cleared. I can't believe I let my father do that to me again! Every time he tells me to do something, or more frequently, NOT do something, I let him walk all over me like a huge push-over. I just feel so small and childish when I'm in his presence, like a helpless puppy. My brain is frozen when I talk to him, and I can't think of a response fast enough to fight back. I'm honestly just so frightened of him that even if my sluggish brain could think of something to say infront of him, I would probably run from the room afterwards, too scared to face his wrath. I'm such a coward! I hate myself for letting him get to me, but I can't help it!
It's the same story every time. Right after I leave, I feel frightened. But then anger replaces my fear, and I have no problem thinking of witty comebacks and arguments I could have said and made. Could have, but didn't. Should have, but couldn't. Would have, if only... I stop myself right there. What use is it to think about it? Worrying about the past is pointless- I know that from experience. I can't change it, so why even try?
No. What I need to think about now is how to maintain my friendship with Riley without my dad finding out.

Riley is in the cafeteria when I find him. He's just finishing cleaning up after lunch, and I don't hesitate in picking up a dish rag and glass to clean so that we can leave sooner. Several servers shoot surprised glances in my direction, but nobody says anything. I'm drying a glass plate when Riley asks about what I did today. I tell him that I just talked to my father in his study, and his eyes cloud over with worry. I have told Riley everything about my relationship with my father, and he knows how strict he is and how much he frightens me.
In a way, Riley is so easy to read. His big butterscotch eyes betray all of his emotions, from whether he is upset to when he's excited about something, and everything inbetween. Now, his beautiful eyes are filled with worry and concern, curiosity and a million questions that I know I will have to answer when we are alone, outside, and everyone in the room isn't watching us intently. I'm almost reluctant to leave when we finally finish, but from the daggers that a young pretty server girl is staring at me, I make up my mind quickly that we should go.
Outside it is crowded. Lunch has just ended, and people are all heading back to work or school. We are pushed and shoved from all directions, and I am actually forced to grab Riley's hand so that we are not seperated. This may seem awkward to some people, for friends to be holding hands, but to us it is normal. As natural as breathing. Riley's hand is warm and comforting, as steady as a rock, and I am grateful for it.
We wave skilfully through the dense crowd, until we finally make it to his house. In the past few days, it has become like my second home. The feeling that I felt the first time I visited, the feeling of belonging, has only grown stronger. We sit on his couch, still holding hands without realizing it, communicating somewhat without words. I am enveloped in a warmness that I can't help but feel safe in, and I know that this feeling comes from him, from spending time with Riley.
His siblings are nowhere to be seen, and I know that we are alone. Riley stares into my eyes, searching for answers to his yet unspoken questions, answers that he won't find. I'm not an open book. I can lie if I have to, which I won't now, but he won't find out what my father said today until I tell him.
"So what happened today?" He finally asks. His voice is strained, and he is probably imagining that something a lot worse happened today than what I am about to tell him. "Well, a lot of, people, have noticed that we've been spending time together, and-"
"And they told your dad, and now you're not allowed to spend time with me, right?"
I stare at him, "how did you know?"
"It's not that hard to guess, knowing your dad and all."
"But you don't know my dad," I point out.
"Oh I know enough to know what's important to him." He's staring at some spot in the distance that I'm pretty sure doesn't really exist.
"So, what are we going to do?"
"We're going to be rebels," he says playfully.
"Really? You still want to spend time with me?" I ask hopefully.
He stares at me like I'm insane, "of course I do! You don't really think that we would stop being friends just because your dad says so? Unless you want to...?"
"I still want us to be friends," I confirm, "but I don't exactly want my dad to bite my head off either..."
"Don't worry, we'll keep it a secret," his eyes glint mischeviously when he says this. I raise my eyebrows, but now he is changing the topic. "So, are you ready for the sacrifice?"
I am speechless. Why would he bring that up? We have made it a point to avoid this topic of conversation for the past couple of days. He knows that I don't like talking about it, and honestly, I don't think that he does either, so what's the deal? Did he forget? That's not like Riley at all, he never forgets things- especially not things that are important to me.
"I-I, well, I mean, n-n-no! No! Not really! Why would you ask that?!"
"I really think we should talk about it Payton." He is holding my hand tight and staring into my eyes in that way that always makes my heart melt. But no! What is he even saying? I can't talk about this with him! I've talked to him about everything in my life, everything except this. Sometimes even thinking about the sacrifice makes me bawl like a baby. I don't want Riley to see me like that! I've tried to appear strong when I'm with him, and this subject is sure to rock the boat. But his eyes are so big. They're like melted butterscoth, warm and friendly. They're piercing my heart, that little part inside of me that recoils from the very mention of violence and death. They're so mersmerizing. I'm compelled to talk with him about it, and I know that a part of me wants to tell him how scared I am, how I feel so used by my father, how I don't want the whole country to hate me. It would be so easy to open up to him, and I know that I can trust him. He wouldn't tell anyone, and even if he did, it wouldn't matter. Nobody cares about what I think.
My mouth is opening, even though I never instructed it to. My brain never even made the decision to tell Riley about my take on the sacrifice, but suddenly it is all pouring out of me, word after word after word. And I'm sobbing and Riley is just squeezing my hand but that's not enough and I know that he's trying to comfort me, but just his hand isn't enough. And somehow I end up wrapped up in his strong arms tightly while he strokes my now-tangled hair gently and whispers lovely reassuring words into my ear. He just says things and eventually he's not even saying anything anymore, but he's just murmuring to me and I feel so naked. Not literally, not by being so physically close to another person, something that I can't remember being in the longest time, but by being so emotionally close to him. All of my feelings and emotions and fears are out in the open now and I feel like my security blanket has been stripped off of me in my sleep, and then like I never tried to get it back. Because I can't get my security blanket back now. Once words are spoken, they can never be taken back, and that should in itself be terrifying, but I'm so honestly past caring. I'm just so thankful that Riley knows. That he is here to hold me and care for me and I feel so loved, just like a best friend should make you feel.
We sit like that for who knows how long. His face is burried in my hair and he kisses my forhead gently, letting me know that he is there and that I don't have to worry. We don't even notice when the door opens.
At first there is a deafening silence, and then a voice is shouting at me to "get out! Get out!" And I get called a lot of horrible words, some of which I don't even know the meaning of and have never heard before. I stand up drunkenly, dazed. I scramble around, not sure where to go, and then Riley is holding me steadily. He yells at the person who came in the door, who I'm pretty sure is his father. The figure steps forward, and I can see every detail of his face. The beautiful eyes that are identical to Riley's, but filled with a burning hatred, the planes on his face, the way his mouth forms the next round of insults streaming from his toung. It occurs to me that it probably isn't a good thing that he is this close, but my mind is hazy, and before I can move, I see his huge arm raise animatedly over his head, as if in slow motion. The grimace that he is making and the way his arm is slowly decsending on me is almost funny. Ha ha. It is coming closer and closer, but I don't know what to do. My mind is frozen, just like it was in my dad's office. It is inches away now. I just cringe, waiting for the pain straking blow.
But it never comes.
I stay hunched over for a few more seconds, but still nothing happens. I look up, look around, but I only see Riley, bleeding, beside me. The figure is gone. Gone. Wait. Bleeding? Why is Riley bleeding? I look at him again, and his face is swolen and puffy, his right eye a mere slit. Apparently his father was holding something that he hit Riley with instead of me. But why did he do that? I don't even have time to ponder this before Riley is shoving me out the door, and I am again getting yelled at to "get out! Get out!" but Riley isn't threatening or angry. He is concerned, worried and frantic, looking behind him, to where his father is lying on the floor, probably passed out.
I stumble out of the door, into the cool night. The door is slammed behind me, and I am left alone. All alone. What has happened to that feeling of belonging that I felt in Riley's arms? It has evaporated, like the breath coming out of my mouth. I am so alone, so utterly alone...

I fall asleep in my bed that night, with the gruesome image of Riley's bloody, distorted face still fresh in my mind.