Episode 5

Eleanor

It had been a month since I returned from the trip, thirty days in which my life seemed suspended, thirty days since that night. The routine was always the same: I would wake up, help with the housework, pretend to be okay, pretend to be the perfect daughter, all while secretly looking for ways to get a job and some independence. Amanda and Caleb insisted on contacting me, messages, calls, notes passed on by others, I ignored them all. They no longer deserved a second of my attention, but it was difficult to maintain this fortress for long, and everything collapsed that night, during dinner.

We were sitting at the table: me, my mother, my father, silence, as always. Until...

"Caleb is becoming more and more distant, Eleanor," my mother commented, cutting the meat on her plate as if talking about the weather.

"He barely looks at you at the services," my father added, without taking his eyes off his glass.

I knew it was coming eventually, I took a deep breath and said.

"I want to call off the engagement."

The silence that followed was so heavy that I could almost hear the sound of my courage shattering on the floor.

"What was that?" my mother asked, dropping her cutlery.

"I don't want to marry him. I never did, I only accepted because you wanted me to."

My father stared at me.

"And why exactly this decision now?"

I opened the bag next to the chair, took out my cell phone.

I showed photos, videos, proof of Caleb and Amanda kissing, laughing, holding hands and everything else.

Night after night my mother looked, then looked at my father. They remained silent for a while, waiting for me to back down, to change my mind, to say it was a joke.

But I remained firm.

"He doesn't want this marriage. And neither do I. There's no reason to keep up this charade."

My mother took a deep breath, angrily.

"You think you're in charge now?"

"This engagement will not be canceled," my father said, slamming his fist on the table. "This is just a phase. You need to pray, do a campaign, God transforms, but you need to be God-fearing, and you've never prayed enough."

"It's your fault, Eleanor," my mother continued, pointing her finger. "You've drifted away from God's presence. This is the consequence."

My throat closed.

"You're blind!" I exploded, getting up from the chair. "You're seeing the truth and prefer to pretend everything is fine. I'm not going to marry a traitor, no matter how many services you force me to attend!"

"Shut your mouth now!" my mother shouted.

"I won't shut up!"

"Shut up!" she repeated, jumping up.

The slap came dry, it hurt more from the surprise than from the force, I stood still for a second, with my hand on my face.

"I'm not going to marry him," I repeated, trembling. "Not for you, not for God, not for anyone."

I tried to leave the room, but my father was already behind me, the screams echoed, the heavy hands, the beating was not the first, but it hurt as if it were. When I managed to crawl to the room, I curled up on the floor, between the bed and the wall, crying in silence so deep that it felt like I was swallowing my own soul. They thought they would break me with that, but they had no idea what was growing inside me, it wasn't just pain, it was fire, it was a new Eleanor, stronger, freer and more dangerous than they could imagine.

The early morning was silent, I was still curled up on the floor of the room, under the blanket I pulled from the bed, trying to calm the body that was still burning in pain, the tears had dried, but the shame and revolt still burned inside. That's when the doorknob turned slowly, my mother entered without knocking as she always did, dressed in that flowery robe that she had worn since I could remember, carrying with her the same expression of forced calm that she displayed every time she wanted to "fix" me.

She sat next to me on the bed without saying anything for a few seconds, then began, as she always began:

"“Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.”"

Her voice was low, as if she wanted to be sweet.

"“Honor your father and your mother... so that it may go well with you and that you may live long on the earth.”"

I closed my eyes tightly.

She placed her hand on my head, caressing my hair as if I were still five years old.

"Daughter… marriage is not easy, it never has been."

She sighed.

"Your father and I also had problems, you know? But look, we stayed together."

She paused, looking for my eyes.

"Because that's what God expects of us. That we are faithful, that we follow the right paths. We are your parents, Eleanor, we would never do anything to hurt you."

My fists clenched in silence, if she only knew...

"Do you think running away will solve it?" she continued. "The world out there is cruel to girls like you, out there, no one will protect you, here, at least, you have the guidance of the Lord, of the family, of a good husband."

"Good husband."

I swallowed hard. She adjusted the robe on her lap, the silence returned… but only for a few seconds.

"Has your period come this month?"

My heart stopped for a moment.

"What?" I asked automatically, trying to buy time.

"You haven't asked for pads. And I know when you need them, you always ask." She gave me a serious look. "Has it come or not?"

I forced myself to answer.

"Yes, it has… but it was light and I still had pads saved, that's why I didn't ask."

She watched me for a moment as if she wanted to capture a lie hidden between the words.

"Hmm… let's schedule a medical check-up in the next few days before the wedding just to be safe, okay?"

I nodded, trying not to look nervous.

She got up, smoothed her hair and left, leaving the room in the same muffled silence as before. But now the silence was no longer the problem, now, panic had invaded every corner of my body, my period had not yet come, I didn't take the pill, we didn't use a condom, the dizziness hit me like an icy wave and worst of all, I had no idea of his name, I didn't know who he was, where he came from, if he was trustworthy, if he was in the city or if he lived a thousand kilometers away.

His face was a blur, maybe from the drink, maybe from the adrenaline, all I remembered was his body, the heat of his skin against mine, his large hands, the way he whispered in my ear, the taste of his kisses, nothing else, nothing that would help me now. I threw myself back on the bed and buried my face in the pillow, and if I was pregnant, my world, which was already upside down, would turn to dust.

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