The Year of the Witching

by Alexis Henderson

Leah stared down at her feet, ashamed. “We were betrothed soon after.” “Soon after what?” Leah frowned, and she couldn’t tell if it was anger she read in her eyes or hurt. “He came to me one night, before my cutting, while I was doing penance.” Penance. Of course. Many girls in Bethel were invited to serve the Church as maidservants to the Prophet’s wives or other inhabitants of the Haven. As a bastard by birth, Immanuelle was never enlisted, but Leah served often in the years before her engagement. Toward the end of her service, it seemed like she spent more nights at the Haven than she did in her own home. Now Immanuelle knew why. “When did it start?” Leah looked sick with shame. “A few weeks before my first blood.” “So you were barely thirteen?” Immanuelle whispered, and it was so horrible that even as she said it, she could barely believe it was true. “Leah, you were . . . he was . . .” Leah’s chin trembled. “We all sin.” “But he’s the Prophet—” “He’s just a man, Immanuelle. Men make mistakes.” “But you were a child. You were just a little girl.” Leah hung her head, trying to choke back tears.

The Prophet, the head of thr church was raping 13 year old girls. And yet everyone is supposed to revere him, worship him, entrust their salvation and piousness to his care. sexual assault and rape are often perpetrated by male religiou leaders with poewer because their power is intertwined with people's expectations for salvation - and thry exploit their power over children who are easily manipulated and controlled. One of my many problems with organized religion like this.