Youth Group

Now, when I drive past a church in my new neighborhood, I roll up the window and lock my doors. Then I find a new route to school. Now, when I pass a group of well-dressed men, I quicken my pace and check the color of their ties.

First, I joined a Youth Group, next I’m in Witness Protection.

I have been waiting to talk about this. I have been afraid to and I can’t give too many details, but I need to warn somebody. I need people to know.

Let me explain.

My childhood friend, Courtney, moved to another town not too long ago. We used to be around each other all of the time, and it is no small thing to say that I felt like I hadn’t just lost a friend, but a sister too. Yeah, we would still Skype as often as we could, but it wasn’t the same. Once a month she would drive out to me (I still didn’t have a car then), but that just wasn’t often enough. So when she said that she had joined a Bible Study group at the halfway point between our towns, I got excited.

For the record, I am not a religious person. Despite our differences (Courtney was always going to church) we somehow got along and even respected our differences. So when she asked me to come, it was not for the religious reasons that I went, I went because I missed my friend. I went because I missed my sister. Anyways, how bad could it be? So what if I wasn’t religious, respect breeds respect, you know? She had invited me out to it, and was even willing to pick me up. How could I say no? It was the perfect excuse to see her more.

The first time she picked me up I could tell that something was off. Not enough to ring any alarm bells but something was different. Courtney was always a girly girl. Unlike me, she was always wearing bright makeup, and always the shortest skirts. That night, however, her makeup was plain, and her dress was conservative. Even her neck was covered. “That’s kind of revealing,” she said to me as she pulled up.

“What?” I responded with a cocked eyebrow, “You’re kidding right?” I have always been a tomboy, I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. She responded with a hollow laugh.

If I had any reservations about going they quickly disappeared during that car ride. Our conversation never lulled, and we were genuinely excited to see each other. But as the night went on, dread became my dominant emotion.

The “church”, if you could call it that, was out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods and old growth. It could have just as easily been an old diner or truck stop that had been repurposed. The paint was chipped, the wooden walls looked water stained. The smell of wet wood rot and sawdust was burdensome. It was night by the time that we got there.

There were more girls there than boys, and the few boys that were there all wore collard shirts and green ties. The girls? Well, I got the impression that I was the only one not afraid to have my ankles uncovered. It was weird. We chatted with a few of them, and then the service began.

What was I expecting? I don’t know, Christian Rock, free cookies, and a long discussion on how the Matrix Trilogy was really about being born again or something. This is not at all what I got.

His name was Travis. Our Youth leader was north of our age but south of forty, but he dressed like he was a grade behind me. It was kind of creepy. This I expected, and he spent too much of his service looking me up and down and leering at the other girls. Like the others, he wore a green tie.

“Man was made from clay,” Travis said looking right at me. “And woman was made from his ribcage. Man was made to serve a higher power, just as woman was made to serve Man.”

I was having none of it. I don’t think I could have stared back with fewer daggers.

The rest of the service was just like that, one big rant about Women being subservient and lesser than men. It was very eighteen hundreds. By the end of it, Travis announced that one of the girls among us, a girly girl with red hair named Megan would be having her “Purity Pledge” tonight. The girl looked excited, smiled even, Courtney leaned into me and whispered “Lucky bitch,” I held back a laugh. It was good to know that Courtney still cursed, given her new company and all.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Courtney drove me home and I did my best to bite my tongue. As pissed about Travis’ sexism as I was I didn’t want to offend my friend. Maybe I should have acted differently. Maybe if I did things could have been prevented. I didn’t see Courtney until the next week, until the next Youth Group meeting.

Not that that week was uneventful.

On my walk to school in the middle of the week, I passed a phone poll with a “Missing” flyer stapled to it. I expected to see a picture of a cat or dog on it with a reward offer included with the phone number. My expectations as of late have been terribly wrong. It was a picture of Megan, the red-headed girl, last seen the night of our youth group. When school got out, when I walked back home on the same route, the flyer was gone. Someone had taken it down.

So the next time we went, I brought the Bowie knife that I had stolen from an ex, and I went to protect Courtney. I wore a long skirt just to please her. I tried to bring Megan up during our ride over, but Courtney shrugged, “I didn’t really know her,” was all that she said.

That next sermon, Travis spent it talking about their “Purity Pledge”. He stalked the back of the church and paced back and forth with manic energy, staring at my chest, pausing only when I would recross my legs. “What better gift to give to your husband,” he said with wide eyes, “than your untainted virginity? Pledge your purity, pledge your vows!” I have never been more uncomfortable in my life. I kept reaching into my purse, reassuring myself that I still had my knife. “I’m glad to announce,” he said, “that next week is Courtney’s pledge!” The girls smiled and clapped lightly, the boys looked at her lustfully. Courtney was a bottle of joy. I wanted to get out of there.

She wanted to stay longer, to hang out with the others after the service, but I told her that I wasn’t feeling well and asked her to drive me home. That ride I could not hold it in anymore. “You know,” I said after our conversation lulled, “there is such a thing as radical Christianity and—”

“I knew you would react this way!” she said cutting me off. I had hit a nerve. “You’re just jealous of my pledge! Travis warned me about this, he warned me about heathens like you!”

Before I could say anything, she pulled over her car. “Get out!” she screamed.

“Fine, fuck it!” I said as I got out and slammed her door. She sped off before I could scream fuck you to her. I did anyway.

The night was cold. There was no moon. That road is just a straight shot through the woods. There is nothing there but pillars of trees, tall enough to hide the stars. The worst part was the silence. I could hear every crack of branch that I walked on, could hear nothing but the panting of my own breath as it turned to steam in the night air. I was alone, alone and far away from home. I noticed right away when there were headlights behind me. They belonged to a white van, the kind that only has windows up front and has been owned by no less than two pedophiles before being sold once more. It slowed its pace, but its movement was aggressive. As it pulled over next to me, it forced me against the trees, it forced me off of the road. I knew it was Travis even before he rolled down the passenger window.

“You must be cold in that skirt,” he said with a half-smile. “When do you plan on making your pledge?”

My hand went straight to my purse, I loosened the old knife from its leather sheath. I was against a tree, it’s cold and rough bark pressed unkindly against the small of my back. “I’m not a virgin you pervert,” I said with a shaken voice, unable to hide my contempt or fear.

“Shame,” was all that he said before speeding off. I watched that creeper in his creepy van drive off into the night, watched as the red taillights were slowly swallowed by darkness and distance. It was a long ass walk home.

By the time I got back, it was early morning, and the night had become a dull grey.

I was mad at Courtney, and I had every right to be. She left me alone on a strange road, she assumed the worst of me before I had the chance to finish my sentence. But she was still my friend, and as her own Pledge grew closer, I started to worry. She had abandoned me, but that didn’t mean that I wanted harm to come her way. There have been too many Missing Person posters with girls on them in my neighborhood, no reason to let them add Courtney to their collection.

It was no surprise that Courtney did not want to pick me up that weekend. That did not stop me. She was not just a friend, she was like a sister. If that meant talking to the one person I did not want to talk to for a ride, then so be it. I hit up my Ex.

“I brought a bat,” he said as he pulled up to my house. “I don’t know what happened to my knife.” I feigned ignorance. “You sure Courtney is in some sort of danger?” I was sure. I was glad that we did not speak any more on our way over to the church.

Just like the night before there was no moon. The sky was swallowed in darkness and was covered in dirty clouds. The stars were nowhere to be seen, even they would not act as a witness. I knew that we were going into danger, but it really didn’t hit me just how bad it would be until we got to the church. All of its lights were off, it looked as dead as a fallen tree, and the smell of wood rot only strengthened this perception. The air was still, as if it was anxious, as if it was holding its breath for the worst. My ex got out of the car and slung his bat over his shoulder. I kept my hand in my purse. The only light around came from Courtney’s parked car. Her door was open and limp.

There did not seem to be anyone around. But then I heard screaming from the woods.

We ran down to the direction of the screams, along a dirt path just wide enough for a car. Just wide enough for a van.

After only a minute we found it: Travis’s van. Two men wearing green ties held down a struggling Courtney, her wrists held together with zip ties. One of them pulled a long length of duct tape and silenced her mouth. I could see her eyes red and hot with tears, could see blood running down her nose and staining her white frilly blouse. They had her in the back of the van before we could get to them. “We’re gonna sell you to a nice husband little lady,” one of them said responding to Courtney’s muffled screams. My ex swung his bat at that man as he shut the back doors to the van, a concussive thud cracked out in the air as the bat connected with his head. The man fell to the ground. I pulled out the knife, held it pointed ahead of me, ready to pounce on the other man. But I did not see him. Neither did my ex. Travis had snuck up from the side of the van and behind my ex, holding a knife of his own. The bastard was quick, and in an instant he held the knife across my ex’s throat, and he dug deep and fast with it. Crimson bled from my ex’s neck. It was more gargle than scream.

The man who my ex hit with the bat slowly stood up, Travis and the other one slowly marched forward. I walked backwards, and just like he did with the van, Travis had aggressively pinned me against the forest. I quickened my pace but tripped on a branch just behind me. The man closest to me lunged at me. I stabbed him below the knee. The knife would not budge as I pulled on it and he screamed in pain. I left it there and scurried back up. I ran into the woods.

“Get her!” I heard Travis scream as I kicked the ground and sped forward. The woods were thick, navigating the trees was not easy. Just when I thought that I had gained some distance I heard them right behind me. I did not know that I was crying until my vision was blurred.

Somehow, I had gained some distance. Somehow, their angered yelling started to sound far away. I kept running. It wasn’t until I had cut through the woods, to another road, that I saw it: a storm drain. I immediately climbed inside. It was dark and wet, the cold mud seeped into my clothes as I scrapped my elbows onto the curved steel. I held my breath.

I heard them pass above me. Still, I waited. I didn’t dare move. When I finally had some courage, I checked my phone.

I had a single bar. I called the cops. After silence stretched from dread to doom, they picked up. As quietly as I could I told them about Courtney, I told them that I was being hunted. I gave them the address to the church, and then, ironically, I prayed.

I did not dare come out of that storm drain until I heard the song of birds. Until the night was eaten by day. The cops had found the two that were chasing me, but no sign of Courtney. No sign of Travis. The van was gone. I found the officers still combing the woods.

One of them offered me a ride home. He was wearing a green tie. I asked a different cop near him to instead.

They never found Courtney. She had been taken by one of the largest slave traffickers in the state. The moment her Missing Person poster went up, I watched as a boy from the Youth Group tore it down. White vans began stalking my street. I asked to be placed in witness protection.

The trial for the men that they caught took far longer than I had expected, but then again, we know how my expectations go. By then they had to fly me out from my new home to testify. By then I was flying back out to my old name. Those bastards got the prison term that they deserved, but the jury was nearly hung. They were found guilty by only one vote. Just less than half of the jury wore green ties.

Now, as I cross my new neighborhood, I find myself staying inside on Sundays. Now when I see a community potluck I stay far away. Now when I see a man, or a boy who thinks he’s a man out in public the first thing I do is look for the color of his tie.

…And I take pictures of all of the Missing Persons posters. Before they too disappear.

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