thirteen

Bethany Price
Walton, Georgia
Sunday Morning

The lock on her bedroom door rattled, sending Bethany scurrying to the corner of her room where her dresser was. She reached for a tissue and wiped her eyes, her skin raw.

“Bethany, are you ready?”

“Um, I’m not feeling well. Can I stay home?”

“Sweetheart, open the door.”

Locking the bedroom door in the Price household was acceptable only if someone was changing. Her parents believed in an open-door policy, meaning that if the door was open, trouble was less likely to happen. Tears stung her eyes. If only I had listened to them.

“Bethany.” Her mother’s tone was no longer concerned—it was now stern. “Open the door.”

Nausea rose in her gut, but Bethany did as she was told.

“Jeremy is already in the car—Bethany, what in the world?” Her mother moved into her bedroom, crowding Bethany backward until the back of her knees hit the edge of her bed. “Honey, what’s wrong?” She pressed her hands to Bethany’s cheeks. “Are you sick?”

“Yeah.” It was only a half-lie. She was sick, but it wasn’t the kind of sickness any medicine could fix.

“Get back in bed this instant.” Her mother pulled back her bedspread, revealing the soft rose-colored sheets that Bethany had twisted and turned in all night. “I’m going to call Daddy and tell him we won’t be at church this morning.”

“No.” Bethany shook her head and sat. “I’m not that sick. I think it’s just a bug. Maybe something I ate.” Dear God, please don’t let her see I’m lying. “Go to church with Jeremy. I probably just need some rest.”

Her mother sat at her side, stroking Bethany’s blonde hair from her face. The motion, which her mom had meant to be comforting, now churned Bethany’s stomach, forcing a sob into her throat.

“Oh, honey, are you sure? You look on the verge of tears.”

“Momma, please.” She took her mom’s hand from her face. “I’ll be okay.”

Her mother tucked a strand of her own blonde hair—curly, unlike Bethany’s stick-straight locks—behind her ear, revealing the gold hoop earrings Bethany and Jeremy had saved up to buy her for Christmas. They were gold-plated, but from the joy on their mother’s face that morning, you’d have thought they’d have given her jewelry from Tiffany’s or Cartier.

“I think I should stay—”

Bethany wiggled under her covers, reaching for her stuffed bear. “I’m just going to sleep. I shouldn’t have gone out last night.” I should’ve stayed home.

“I’ve heard there’s a summer flu going around. Maybe that’s what it is?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay.” Her mother stood, straightening a white cardigan over her floral dress. “But I’m only going to stay until Daddy begins his sermon. I’ll sit in the back and sneak out to check on you.”

All Bethany could muster was a weak nod. She was afraid that if she tried any harder to convince her mother to leave, she’d become suspicious.

“See ya later, Bethany-gator.”

When her mom left the room, Bethany counted off the seconds, listening for the front door to close and the sound of her mother’s car driving away before she buried her face into the blankets and released a painful, silent sob. Her cries had grown inaudible over the last two weeks, like there was nothing left in her soul to release. Her soul.

Bethany wasn’t sure what made her most sick. Going to her father’s church knowing what she did and having to pretend she was still the same virtuous pastor’s daughter everyone believed her to be, or sitting there and listening to her father preach about the destruction of sin when he couldn’t even keep his own daughter from it.

Suddenly, being tucked into her bed felt strangling. Suffocating. Bethany kicked and tore at the covers until her body was free, and she slid to the floor, pressing her face against the cool wood of her nightstand as she closed her eyes. She took in deep breaths and forced them out until she could feel the vise around her chest loosen.

Opening her eyes, she took in her room and it felt like she was a stranger. Photos of her and her friends pinned on the wall showed the face of a girl who had it all even when she hadn’t realized it. Why had she thought she needed more—needed him?

She caught sight of the white romper with pink flowers still crumpled on the floor near her desk. She’d aimed for the trash basket and missed. Now it sat there on the floor like an ugly reminder of what she did that night. Only she didn’t need a reminder. Bethany had the Watcher to do that.

She reached under her bed and dragged out her backpack. Inside were the clothes from last night. She wanted to throw them away—burn them—but her mother might notice, and then what would she say? “Sorry, Mom, but these clothes remind me of my dark, ugly sin, and I’m no longer the girl you thought I was.”

Bethany’s words echoed in her room. She went to the laundry room and dumped the items into the washer, wishing her mother hadn’t taught her how to do her own laundry when she was little. Maybe then she could accidentally pour a bottle of bleach into the load and ruin them. That’s what she needed. An entire bottle of bleach to cleanse her. Plain old soap wasn’t doing the trick—the raw skin beneath her clothes could testify.

Back in her room, Bethany slid to the floor and curled into a ball, closing her eyes. Why couldn’t she remember what happened?

Of course, she didn’t need to remember to know what took place. It was all there on video. Someone had taped her. Someone had captured her mistake and was now forcing her to . . . she swallowed the bile that seemed settled to remain in her throat.

She sat up, grabbed her cell phone, and pulled up the message, but not because she wanted to see it again or watch the video of her seducing the boys at the party—that was burned in her memory forever. She needed to figure out a way to get the money and make this all go away.

Bethany’s stomach roiled at the condescending tone of kindness.

Anger bubbled at the Watcher’s use of a Bible verse, but the point was clear. If the video of her sleeping with those boys got out, it would destroy her father’s career. Who’d want to listen to a pastor preach about sin when his own daughter hadn’t merely sinned but was now being forced to engage in moral depravity at the beck and call of some monster unless she paid.

She should’ve gone to the police that night, but what would she have said? How many school assemblies had she attended that talked about the consequences and risks of underage drinking? Maybe she should’ve paid attention. When she woke up the next morning, the memory of what had happened was grainy—and she was grateful for it. She hoped God was sparing her the reminder of her sin, but then the email came . . .

Bethany had watched the video in horror. It showed her walking into a room with a guy, who then offered her a drink. Shame forced her eyes closed the second she saw him taking off her romper. The act lasted only a few minutes from what she could tell before the next guy came in. The first time she watched, she couldn’t hold back the vomit. She rushed to the bathroom and heaved until every muscle in her body ached and nothing else came out.

Bethany clicked on the link just to shut off the video, not thinking what agreeing to the Watcher would mean. She just wanted it to stop. Except it didn’t.

Three days later, she received her first message with an address only. It was to a hotel room. And before she could back out, another text message arrived warning her what would happen if she did.

$50,000

It was just under the amount Gigi had promised her to help pay for college. Bethany lifted her eyes to the University of Georgia poster she’d received when the school had accepted her as an incoming freshman. Not only had Bethany worked her tail off to get accepted, but her GPA and test scores had awarded her enough scholarship money to pay most of her tuition and fees. Her mom and dad had promised to cover room and board, but Bethany wanted them to keep the money they’d saved.

If she used the money from Gigi for room and board, then her parents could take the dream vacation they always talked about but neglected because it was more important to give to the church or a charity or some poor, desperate soul who showed up at their doorstep from time to time.

Bethany admired her parents for their generosity and hoped she could give something back to them for all they’d done for her. If she used her money from Gigi to pay off the Watcher, then she’d have no other choice but to accept the money from her parents and hope she could find a job to cover everything else.

Or maybe she wouldn’t go to UGA at all. Staying in Walton wasn’t the worst thing. And she could pick up extra shifts at the Way Station Café. Anderson College was a good school, and if Frannie went there, it could be fun—

The buzzer on the washer went off and Bethany forced herself off the floor. She went to the laundry room and moved her clothes to the dryer, disappointed they hadn’t been miraculously destroyed. Her cell phone chimed from her pocket, the sound sending her heart plummeting into her stomach.

Surely, he isn’t sending me out again. Bethany’s fingers fumbled as she tried to get her iPhone screen to open up to the messages. When she did, she wanted to cry. Tears of relief came this time, because instead of being from the Watcher, the message was from Frannie.

Beth, where you been, girl? Guess who came in last night?????

Did you guess Henry? YASSSSS!!!

He asked about you.

Is everything okay?

Maybe we can go see a movie this week. I’m in a Hemsworth mood.

Come on, girl. It’s senior year!!!! YOLO and all that right???

Bethany shoved her phone back into her pocket. “You only live once” was a stupid saying. All it had taken was one night to ruin her entire life, and now she was paying for it with her body and soul.