Chapter Three

Bridge Home School for Girls, Misty

M isty felt desolate as she studied the white-painted room’s bare walls through red puffy eyes. Her parents' house was similar, though they had a picture of Jesus hanging on the cross in the front room. When her tears finally dried, she checked the only other door in the room and found a closet. It was divided into two sections, one with a rod and the other side with shelves. Three identical dresses to the one she wore hung inside. A dark gray dress hung beside them. A single pair of black boots sat on the floor beneath the dresses. On the shelves were seven pairs of white socks, seven plain white nightgowns, and the same amount of underwear.

The horrifying thing that caught her eye on the bottom shelf was a bedpan. Her mother had a cesarean section when Noah was born and Misty had emptied and cleaned a bedpan for her mom on the first days after the birth. Her mother had planned to have Noah at home but after two days of labor, she was taken to the hospital.

It made her father angry that he had to waste the Lord’s money and had insisted her mother return home the following morning after the surgery. Her mother had told Misty where she would find the bedpan after she was unable to rise from her bed. Misty had taken care of her mother and also newborn Noah.

She closed the closet door and leaned against it. The bathroom was down the hall and the bedpan made sense if she was to be locked in the room each day, but she hated the thought. Misty couldn’t help thinking about why she was here. Her parents had threatened to send her to a place that fixed troubled girls, and they had done it. Another sob built in her throat, but she held it back.

One of the leaders of their church, an old man, Pastor Glen, had decided that Misty would make him a good wife. Her parents agreed, but Misty did not. She had been raised to always obey her mother and father, but the pastor gave her the creeps. He had been watching her like a hungry animal since she was ten. When she tried to explain this to her parents, she was locked in her room and only allowed out for daily prayer.

Her little brother, Noah, was the only person who kept her sane. He poked food beneath her door when her dad was working and her mom was busy. They fed her, but not much, and it made Noah angry. He also sat outside her room and talked to her about his day. Noah was four years old, and he loved her as much as she loved him.

She was locked in her bedroom for two weeks before she was kidnapped. Was it kidnapping if her parents said the men could take her? Misty didn't know. She realized there was a lot she didn't know.

She walked to the bed and lay back, her feet dangling over the side. She had been wrong; there was a bottom sheet, but under that was a bare mattress. The ceiling was also white. There was a crack high in the corner where the ceiling met the wall. It wasn't very big, but like her bedroom at home, she figured she would learn every defect in this room before she left.

Marrying that horrible old man was out of the question, and she didn't care how righteous he was, how the other girls were envious that he had picked her, or how the Lord wanted their marriage to happen. If she couldn't come home until she agreed to marry him, she would never go home.

This time the tears fell. How could she survive without Noah? He was too young to understand. She brought her feet up and rolled to her side in misery and let her sadness take over.

The door rattled, and she jerked upright facing it when it opened. Another woman stood there, dressed the same as the woman from earlier, and maybe a bit younger. Her hair was light brown with gray streaks, her mouth, a slash of firm lips, let Misty know she wouldn't find a friend. Not that she really had friends. She was homeschooled and only saw the girls at church twice a week for a few minutes. Church was for worshiping the Lord. It was not for gossip.

Misty's school life revolved around the Bible and learning what it took to be a proper wife and mother. She prepared daily meals for her parents and helped her mother around the house with chores. They had chickens, and Noah gathered eggs with her and also helped feed them. He was just beginning to have his own chores to keep him busy.

Misty's mother was a quiet woman who obeyed her husband, and her husband obeyed God. From what Misty saw, God didn't visit their home often. Her mother always seemed sad but never defended Misty. She had even come into her room crying and begged her to marry Pastor Glen.

"Your father will continue to punish you until you do as the Lord commands," her mother had said.

"I won't," Misty cried, unwilling to give in to her mother's tears.

Her food was reduced to one meal a day after that. If it weren't for the small tidbits her brother managed to hide and share, she would have half-starved.

"Come with me," the second woman said, her voice more lyrical and not as harsh as the first woman.

Misty wondered how she should address them. She stood and followed the second woman down the long hall to the stairs. She saw a group of girls below, dressed identically to her, walking single file, their heads bowed until they were out of sight. The woman took Misty to the second landing and a small room halfway down the hallway.

She pointed to the chair in front of a desk, and Misty sat down. The woman walked around the desk and took a seat. The room was as plain as the bedroom. A folder and pen were the only two items on the desk.

"You will call me Mrs. Sanders," the woman said and lifted her eyebrows when Misty didn't acknowledge her statement. "The proper response is 'Yes, Mrs. Sanders.'"

"I was told not to speak," Misty said softly. She wasn't trying to provoke the woman, but Misty would be sure she followed the rules to the letter.

Mrs. Sanders' eyes narrowed. "I believe you think you are smart. Let me avail you with certainty that you are not. Punishment is swift here. You may speak when asked a question. Your answers should be little more than a 'yes' or 'no' along with the proper greeting of the adult asking the question." Her eyes narrowed even further, and now she looked as if she were squinting. "So there is no misunderstanding, your answer should have been, 'Yes, Mrs. Sanders.'” She stared at Misty for a moment. “We will try again. Do you understand what I have told you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Sanders," Misty recited.

The woman didn't smile, but the scrunch of her nose relaxed slightly.

"This is your orientation, where you will learn our rules and the consequences of breaking those rules. I can see by the mark on your face that adjusting may take a bit of time. I'm sure Mrs. Turney didn't introduce herself before she used her cane.” There was no trace of compassion in the woman’s voice. “I, on the other hand, prefer different methods to make young ladies comply, and that is where we will start." She took a piece of paper from the folder and slid it across the desk.

It was a list of rules.

Mrs. Sanders read them: "One, you will wake at six each morning and be prepared for your day by six-fifteen when your door will be unlocked. Your bed must be made and you must be dressed in proper attire. If you have waste, you will carry it to the toilet and take your turn emptying before returning to your room to leave the waste receptacle behind before you eat breakfast. Walking anywhere on campus requires an escort. When you are walking with other students, you will stay silent in a single file line with your head up enough to see where you are going. Downcast eyes makes a good preparation for marriage and will show you as humble and waiting for your next command.” She stopped and took a breath. “You will shower twice a week on your assigned days or evenings. Three, you will be assigned daily chores as well as keeping your room spotless. Four, missing daily lessons in comportment or prayer sessions which are also daily, will not be tolerated. Do you understand these rules?"

"Yes, Mrs. Sanders."

The woman’s chin dipped slightly in acknowledgment of Misty's answer.

"Now we will move to the punishments. They are also listed. The cane, you are aware of. Being remanded to your room with only bread and water is another. Wall time is also used. For your smart mouth earlier, I will teach you what it means. Stand."

A nervous flutter filled Misty's stomach, but she stood.

"Come here and face the wall, your nose touching. You will stay like this until I tell you to move."

Misty walked slowly to the wall and faced it.

"Lean in," Mrs. Sanders said. "Your nose must touch at all times, with your arms at your sides."

Misty did as she was told. The tears started again, and it took everything she had not to scream.