Back in Arkansas, there was no way I could talk about my fear, and my faith was feeling shaken. All the times I’d been warned not to “stir up contention among the brethren” had left their mark on me. I was hardwired not to be critical of my parents to anybody—not my siblings, not my pastor, and certainly not to my friends. The thought of doing it nauseated me.
It breaks my heart to see how much control, under the the guise of religion and "being a good christian" Jim Bob had over Jill and likely still has over the younger kids, and possibly even some of the adult kids.
