My name is Elizabeth Marie Davis, and I am 26 years old. I come from a family of religious zealots from which I fled a long time ago. Over the span of two years, my life changed radically; there was no way of knowing what would become of me or the surprises that fate had in store.

I was born and raised in a small Ohio town. The daughter of parents who believed nearly everything was sinful. They loved and feared God above all else.

I couldn't say that I was physically abused but psychologically, I was.

I finished my studies with the hope of attending college, something that was exceedingly difficult because according to my father, "women should stay at home, raise their children, and attend to their man"—a thought too chauvinistic and outdated that I grew to detest passionately as I matured.

I was a victim of bullying and a myriad of mockeries because of my attire; as expected, I had to dress like someone respectable and not like a woman of ill repute as, according to my parents, all people my age tended to do.

My figure was hidden beneath enormous shirts and ankle-length skirts that were too wide, or long-sleeved dresses with collars reaching down to my ankles. Our religion mandated wearing skirts, forbidding us pants— not even in this were we free.

At a young age, I looked like an old woman, though with the face of someone very young.

My father worked, and my mother and I did the household chores, and I also had to learn a myriad of things to be a good wife.

I had strict schedules and military-grade surveillance; that was my life. The only friends I could have were church members, but I didn't want that; I did not feel part of that place, no matter if I knew nothing else.

Girls were raised with chauvinistic and outdated concepts, forced into marriage between eighteen and twenty-four years, with church members chosen by their parents. They were supposed to have children and continue the cycle with them.

My older sister followed my parents' orders, and I saw her suffer too much from it until she couldn't take it anymore and ended her life. She was married virginally to someone a bit older than her but not by much; she didn't love him and would never come to love him. She had fallen in love with someone else and planned to escape, but when her plans were discovered, they only hastened the wedding.

Her husband subjugated her to his will, took her virginity, and furthermore destroyed her soul. She got pregnant and suffered a miscarriage, but her husband believed she ought to have more children, so he did not stop his abuses. She couldn't take it anymore; she never loved him and wasn't ready to have a family. She was trapped and saw no way out other than death.

This event only made things worse, but it gave me time because they were looking for a marriage for me and just postponed it due to the loss of my sister. I also wanted to flee but had to plan what to do to avoid meeting the same fate.

I saved up over a long time, penny by penny, from the little that my father gave me and from tips for helping a lady from the church. Her name was Julia; she thought it was all absurd and disagreed with several members and their ways.

Even her children made their lives away from the church because they chose to.

When Marcos asked for my hand after mass and the wedding started to be planned, I had to hasten my escape plans. Mrs. Julia gave me money and asked her daughter to take me to New York, where she was living. And so, one early morning, I managed to escape.

I arrived there, and Julia's daughter gave me some of her clothes that no longer fit her due to weight gain; it was my first normal attire. I found a boarding house to live in and began working as a waitress in more than one place. I also did cleaning, babysitting, whatever was necessary.

I worked like that until I saw an advertisement in the paper that a major security company needed employees. I went without thinking, and the only available position was in cleaning. I accepted without hesitation because the pay was much better, in addition to having health insurance.

Months later, I found a new place to live, a small apartment close to my job which, although more expensive, had more amenities and, above all, was safe.

What I never imagined was that someone was watching every one of my steps and that later on, he would seek the opportunity to claim me as his...

I began climbing the ranks within the company, gradually affording myself a better lifestyle within my means.

Among the many things I had to learn in my training to be a good wife was managing a household, so I saved as much as I could, always fearful that my family would find me and force me to marry.

I didn't own a car nor did I even know how to drive one; I had barely mastered using my cellphone. The only friend I made, who was the boss's secretary, always told me I was born in the wrong era, and sometimes I believed it too.

For the first few months, I lived in fear that my parents would find me or someone would recognize me in this place, but even as time sped by in this large city, the fear persisted. It's a terror I'll live with forever, even if I don't want to.

I avoid parties and social gatherings my friend constantly invites me to because of the fear of being recognized. I am happy living anonymously, in the shadows. Every day, when I get to my apartment, I close even the blinds; I can't bring myself to open the curtains. I am quite paranoid. Even a knock on my door sends my heart racing, threatening to burst from my chest.

I look at the photo of me with my sister and pray to God to keep her in His holy grace. I speak to her whenever panic takes hold and I fall prey to my memories.

I want to live, to be free, to be happy, and to be a confident woman. I no longer want to live in fear of being found and forced into marriage. I can't imagine losing my virginity as a marital duty like what happened to my sister. I desire to own my body and my choices, to decide who I lie with or when I am ready to have children...

At work, there are many handsome men, and even though I'm the accountant's secretary and need to deliver financial reports to different company sectors or to the executives, I prefer to finish quickly and return to my safe place so that no one looks at or speaks to me.

After a long time working here, I only know the president's and vice president's voices because I've never seen their faces. Nor am I interested in meeting them; their voices frighten me because they are so stern and always seem to be yelling.

I feel very restless, anxious, looking around every corner. I have a premonition that something is about to happen, but I don't know what. I'm scared, paranoid. I've even had nightmares where I wake up terrified, screaming.

The exhaustion is taking its toll. My mind is elsewhere, my body on edge; even when my friend touches my shoulder to talk to me, I panic, imagining it's someone from my past.

"Liz, are you alright? Why are you like this?" Marina asked, concerned.

"I have a bad feeling; I think something's going to happen to me, and I can't stop dreaming that they're taking me away by force."

"You should see a doctor, maybe get some sleeping pills. You look tired, and you're too jittery."

"I'll think about it."

"I'm staying with you tonight. Anyway, I don't need to bring anything since we have to wear this uniform every day."

"Thanks, Mar."

"That's what friends are for. See you at closing."

When it was time to leave, I took the elevator with everyone because being alone frightened me, and each place felt like an imminent danger.

I look for Marina and we head to the apartment. Having her with me makes me feel safer and less fearful. Even if an armed attacker comes, I would be in the same danger.

We have dinner, watch TV, and then go to sleep because we have to work again tomorrow.

I shower while Marina prepares breakfast with the little I have in the fridge because I've been so frightened I didn't even do my weekly grocery shopping. I get out of the bathroom and look for a set of underwear and can't find it, as well as the blouse that goes under the uniform shirt.

We eat breakfast and head to work, today feeling more rested. Marina lets me know she'll also stay over tonight, so we plan to go to the supermarket and then have dinner while watching a movie.

My workday unfolded uneventfully, despite the persistent feeling of danger that continued to nag at me. I spoke with Marina, who attempted to assuage my fears, reassuring me that all was well. While I led her to believe that her words had soothed me, I lied.

I was intensely aware of the apparent risk surrounding me, and suspected that either my family or the fanatics from that damned church were to blame.

That evening, I dined alone, took a bath, and when I went to retrieve my pajamas, they were missing.

"I must be losing my mind, forgetting where I put my things. I'm sure I'll find them tomorrow," I said out loud.

"Talking to myself now, Liz, you're definitely going crazy," I added to my solitary room.

After tossing and turning in bed, I eventually fell into a deep sleep.

**I was walking down a familiar street and entered my old home where my parents were seated at the table discussing with my suitor's family. Miraculously, they did not see me as I made my way to my room, my heart pounding uncontrollably. I quietly closed the door to avoid detection and prevent anyone from coming after me.

Under my bed, my sister emerged with tears in her eyes and embraced me.

"What are you doing here? You're not real," I asked as tears streamed down and drenched my face.

"I need you to listen, there's only one way out."

"Which way? I don't want to end up like you; tell me," I pleaded in desperation.

"Keep your voice down, or someone will hear if you speak too loudly."

"Please tell me," I clasped her hands and begged.

"If you lose your virginity, they can't marry you off to anyone from the church."

"What are you saying?"

"The truth, Liz, you must give up your virtue to be free."

I was about to embrace her when the bedroom door opened, and she vanished.**

I woke up calling her name and crying, still feeling as if I had truly been with her.

I looked for her photograph and wept bitterly.

"If only you knew how much I miss you, I wish you were here. If only you had held on, you could have escaped with me and lived the life you always wanted, but you couldn't wait. Now, I'll never be able to see or hug you again; I'll never be an aunt; everything I dreamed of with you will never come to be."

The alarm sounded, prompting me to rise from bed, dry my tears, and get ready for work. I washed my eyes with cold water to alleviate the swelling and redness, but I needed a miracle more than cold water.

Arriving at work, I laughed at the irony of the situation. Working for a company that advocates for safety, I felt immensely unsafe.

I was suffocated, fearful, as though evil was lurking near, and I was clueless as to what or whom to fear. In short, I felt like I was in the lion's den.

Leaving work, Marina accompanied me again, seeing my forlorn state; at least she offered some consolation and slightly allayed my paranoia.

As we prepared to sleep, I noticed another anomaly; my perfume, the only one I own and use every day, was lying beside my bed. I had made the bed before leaving and it was unusual for it to be out of place when I usually keep it in the bathroom.

"Are you okay? You seem fixated on the perfume."

"It's odd; I've been misplacing things lately, and I always apply the perfume in the bathroom, I don't understand why it's here."

"You've been quite distracted, you'll find your belongings eventually. Remember how I put toilet paper in the oven instead of the pizza when I was stressed? It's normal to get flustered and make mistakes when you're not sleeping right."

"Maybe you're right, but it's still strange. I'm sure everything will turn up tomorrow."

"You'll see. Let's sleep; we've got a long day ahead of us."

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know, they want a report from every department, it feels like they might be planning staff cuts," the thought of being laid off sent a shiver down my spine.

"Oh no, I hope we don't lose our jobs."

"We won't, there are like ten idiots who do nothing but stare at their phones all day, they'll be the first to go. Let's sleep, or I'll look worse than you tomorrow if I don't rest."

"Good night, Mar, thanks for being here."

While Mar slept, I couldn't stop thinking about the dream, and beyond the sheer horror of a man touching me, there was a rational angle to it.