The Cult That Raised Me: THE CULT, #1

By LEO BROWN

When moral ambiguity clashes with Nic's religious indoctrination she must decide if the boy of her dreams is worth being excommunicated for…

Life is hard enough as a sophomore but with the added pressure from an overly religious mother, Nichole 'Nic' Patterson must resist the temptation to become what her religious community refers to as "worldly". At the request of one phone call from Myron Mixon, the most popular boy in her school, Nic is put in a compromising position since she is forbidden to date outside her religion. With such a tempting opportunity in front of her, Nic must weigh the severity of the consequences if she follows through. When Nic's best friend finds herself excommunicated for breaking the rules, Nic comes face to face with her own dilemma. Will she blindly follow her religious customs, or will Nic see things from a different perspective? Nic will have to decide before one wrong decision costs her a lifetime of regret.

This is a young adult/ new adult series. Recommended for mature readers due to profanity and mature content. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: LEO BROWN
• Release date: Aug 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393282631

Book preview

I would like to dedicate this book to my loving husband who has been my best friend, my support system, and my overall muse throughout this adventure called life.

Tension is who you think you should be, relaxation is who you are.

—CHINESE PROVER

C H A P T E R  O N E

E veryone quiet down , please. Please, everyone quiet. It’s almost time for us to start.

It was Thursday night, which meant it was a meeting night. Brother Richard is at the podium announcing that everyone should be quiet and to take their seats. Before the meeting started, people would arrive early and find the best seat in the house, which was the same seat every meeting. There was an unspoken agreement among everyone that once someone sat in the same aisle for three meetings in a row, we now considered it their seat. We didn’t have assigned seating, but it seemed like it. The meeting started at 7 pm and would last all of about an hour and forty-five minutes. If Brother Glen was doing most of the meeting, then we would leave fifteen minutes earlier. On the other hand, if Brother Thomas was doing it then expect to stay an additional thirty. It’s no wonder it took him so long since he had to stutter through most of his talk. Tonight, I could tell it would be a long service because it was a full house, and we had a visitor from another congregation coming to talk.

Brother Samuel was from the Seaside congregation, so members from his congregation came out for support. It was normal to see this many people on a Sunday but not on a Thursday. See they reserved Thursdays for in-depth meetings about one specific topic, but usually, it is about what is going on within the congregation. Sundays, however, was the big show. The main attraction. See Sundays was the day where all our hard work of going door-to-door on Saturday would pay off. We would visit neighborhoods close to our congregation and we would invite them to come check us out on Sun- days. Every Saturday, the same routine.

Knock knock knock.

Wait at least one minute then... Knock knock knock.

OK, now wait at least two minutes this time.

All right then no one came to the door. On to the next.

Knock knock knock.

The sound of rustling behind the door and a blind inching up enough for a bony finger to protrude through and decide whether they would answer. If you were lucky, they would never come to the door. This time I wasn’t so fortunate.

Yas! How can I help you?

The disgruntle voice of an angry black woman wearing a dirty used to be fuzzy robe and even dirtier house shoes. Her hair was wrapped in a faded bandanna that was washed one too many times, but the reality is it was worn out from all the hair products that she used to maintain that greasy wrap of a hairdo.

Good morning ma’am I’m sorry to disturb you. I know you have little time but if you don’t mind I just wanted to share an encouraging message with you this fine morning.

Trying my best to not fidget at the door, I try not to think about waking people up at 8 am to preach to them about how wrong their life is and how I didn’t want to be there. I know how I would feel and I had empathy towards these people I was disturbing but what was I to do? There wasn’t any other choice.

Listen I don’t want any of that false doctrine. I wasn’t interested last week and I’m not this week ya hear me? Then slam! As the door shut in my face I turn to leave but not without one more insincere apology before I go.

Sorry to waste your time ma’am thank you anyway. Then on to the next.

Knock knock knock.

That is the Saturday routine and if we were successful, we would wrangle some people in for our show on Sunday and try to persuade them to keep coming back until we hook them into having a one-on-one study.

Then BAM! New member!

There was a method to our madness.

Recruit: Saturday for most and any day for pioneers.

Go recruit!

Endure: Don’t take no for an answer. Persevere until you get a yes.

Learn: Continue to study. Can’t preach what you don’t know.

Indoctrinate: Once you know what you know, go teach someone else. Again go recruit!

Give: They don’t want your money only your time. Invite: See recruit.

Offend: I’m sure that’s not the intent but break down their morals to see our truth.

New member: Follow these steps and you get your- self another mindless recruit.

I guess I spaced out during the song because when  I refocused my attention back on the meeting, every- one’s head was bowed and Brother Richard was saying the prayer. Somehow during his prayer, I sensed he was addressing me. Or perhaps it was a guilty conscience. Something about the way he said, Guard those lord who are easily turned astray and let them not come into temptation, made me certain he was addressing me. I had done nothing wrong. Yet. But I still assumed that because my friend Ebony had gotten disfellowshiped that everyone assumed I would soon follow because,

‘Birds of a feather flock together’ or whatever old people say.

I wasn’t there when Ebony sneaked out her mom’s house to visit her boyfriend and I wasn’t there when she got knocked up. She didn’t even tell me! I found out she was pregnant the same night she got De’d up. That’s what all the younger teens call disfellowshiped. God forbid we say the words, and it happens to us. The night Ebony got De’d up, she came in and sat in the back row of the hall. I should have figured something was wrong because she never sits alone or in the back. The back row is reserved for people who are disfellowshiped. It’s also for those too embarrassed to sit closer, newcomers who have no one to talk to, or women with annoying babies who have to get up every five seconds because their baby won’t stop crying.

It was a Thursday similar to tonight. Most people don’t enjoy attending Thursday night because it’s too close to the weekend and people tire of going to the meetings three times a week. I walked in and waved to Ebony, but I didn’t speak because I was late coming in and the meeting was already starting. During the second half of the meeting at about the forty-five-minute mark, we all stand and sing a song from our songbook. Normally the brother at the podium signals for every- one to sit after the song but this time he didn’t make any gesture, so we all continued to stand. The entire congregation is quiet, and the air is timid and filled with nervous energy. We all knew what it means when we can’t sit down right after the song.

Someone was about to say something none of us wanted to hear.

Whether it be an announcement about someone who is sick or someone had died, you could tell that nothing good was ever said after a song.

I tried not to shift as I gazed around at everyone waiting for the announcement. Ebony’s family was sitting a few aisles in front of me and for a moment I thought I saw her mom wipe her face.

Oh no! Don’t tell me. It couldn’t be!

Coming from the back hallway and down the aisle to the podium is Brother Glen. Usually, Brother Glen is always with a smile. So many times I would catch him crying yet he had the biggest smile on his face because he was one of those people who cried when he was happy. Not that night. That night he had a stoic expression and gazed straight ahead as he walked. His feet appeared is if they weighed him down. He walked like he had lead in his boots that made it difficult to get to the stage. He approaches the podium and with eyes full of tears he announces,

Ebony White is now disfellowshiped.

And with no explanation or any further word, he leaves the stage and heads back to whatever corridor he came from. Sure to cry in private because that is what he does. I was too shocked and embarrassed to glance at Ebony. After a few minutes once the congregation was back seated, and the meeting had resumed I pretended to go to the bathroom. As I walked past the several rows behind me I kept my head down only glancing up when I got to the end to see if Ebony would look at me and take the hint to meet me in the bathroom. I watched as she shifted her eyes towards me as I passed then looked away.

That’s when I noticed it. Ebony’s belly.

A cute little pudge protruding from her once tight and in shape abdomen. She places her hand over her stomach as if to shield her unborn child from every- one’s inquisitive stares.

She must have been pregnant for months without me noticing. Perhaps it was because I wasn’t looking for it but now, NOW, I had a reason to question why she would be De’d up.

A baby.

It’s always a baby! When Ebony refused to look at me I figured it was a mute cause to talk to her tonight. Veering towards the bathroom I sat in the stall and cried. Multiple reasons made me cry. I cried because I was sad my friend was going through something and didn’t feel like she could confide in me. I was ashamed for her and then I felt ashamed for thinking I had the right to feel that way. It was overwhelming. We are only 15! What was Ebony going to do with a baby at 15? I sensed our friendship was over because there would be no room for me once Ebony had this baby.

And the father!

What about the father? Who is the father? Ebony didn’t even tell me she was dating! My sadness disappeared as my anger-driven tears forced me to face the real reason why I was crying. I was mad at Ebony. How dare she think she was too good to not talk to me about her life. We were supposed to be friends. When I thought about it Ebony had changed and was showing the signs well before this. We stopped hanging out as much and even at the meetings she stopped talking to me. We would greet each other but whenever I wanted to talk or meet up in the bathroom, she was sitting in the baby room talking to Monica.

Monica was bad news for everyone. As someone who was older and had already been disfellowshiped twice, she was not a good influence. Despite that, she always came back though. Monica liked the world and being in it but the loneliness would always bring her back. Her issue was boys and the way it seemed it will always be boys.

If she couldn’t keep her legs closed she might as well get married, was the usual conversation amongst the older women of the congregation.

She was 17 so I’m sure by the time she is legally of age marriage won’t be too far behind. Now De’d up herself, Ebony and Monica could talk to each other and I would be disregarded as I had been. I used to tell Ebony to not talk to Monica, but she had a mind of her own and didn’t appreciate me telling her what to do.

I guess they deserve each other. Birds of a feather...

I wiped my eyes and went back to my seat.

After the meeting, Mama suddenly has an attitude. I notice her snarling at me as we walk out of the hall towards the car. Once we get inside, she tells me what’s on her mind.

I don’t want you hanging out with Ebony anymore. Trying my hardest to not be annoyed but feeling rebellious I give a duh like response.

Well, clearly I can’t hang out with her now anyway.

Rolling my eyes at her need to say obvious things I try to not let Mama annoy me further. The issue is she sees her close friends becoming grandparents while their kids are still in high school and she fears that will be us. No need to wonder this because she always says it. Like a scratched record stuck at the same spot, she repeated herself.

I ain’t raising no babies. You make it on your own and you will take care of it on your own.

At this point, it’s a mute conversation so I ignore her response and her blaring glances shooting at me from the rear-view mirror as we drive home. I stare out the window and think about how Ebony’s bad decisions are ruining my life and she doesn’t even realize it.

C H A P T E R  T W O

It’s 6:32 am on a Saturday and I wake up to the smell of pancakes and bacon cooking. I’m leery about leaving my room because I figure if I go to breakfast the expectation is I will go out in field service. It’s been two weeks now since I’ve gotten out of going but I know this weekend I must go. Not making it this weekend would mean I will only count 2 hours towards my monthly report. My goal was to go out for 6 hours this month and if I don’t reach it this weekend, it’ll mean making up hours by doing early service witnessing or staying out longer next Saturday.

Fuck that!

I am not about to wake up any earlier to sit in my car in a parking lot waiting for strangers to walk by so I can hand them a brochure I suspected they didn’t even want.

What do I look like, a pioneer?

I laugh at the thought of being a pioneer. It was nothing more than a glorified position for privileged stay at home wives that have no desire to take part in the secular world. Being a pioneer in this world meant devoting 80 plus hours to doing ministry work and get- ting nothing from it except the self-satisfaction and the gloating rights to proclaim that you get paid nothing to spend your day preaching to people.

More like judging.

I need to fix my attitude. Lately, I find my thoughts more cynical and more disheartened since Ebony got kicked out. I know she isn’t technically kicked out but I can’t openly talk to her like I once did. I take my chances and go to the kitchen.

Nic, hurry and eat so we don’t be late for service, Mama able to sense my presence without turning to face me instructed me as she flipped over a perfectly tan pancake on the griddle.

Damn, I knew she would not give me a choice to not go.

I choose my battles and this one wasn’t worth fighting over so I begrudgingly take my breakfast and shove it down as quickly as I could so I might get ready to go. My sister Alicia must have already eaten since she wasn’t in the kitchen, yet Grandma was still working on her third pancake. Alicia always took a forever getting prepared to go anywhere because she had to always put makeup on like she was getting ready to go to a full tuxedo event. It was annoying because at the end of the day she would spend the same amount of time removing all that shit. She was my older sister, but I swear her dependency on our mom made it appear Alicia was the younger one. In a way, my mom was so irresponsible that she too was codependent of her daughter so they depended on each other. All that left was me and Grandma but Grandma was too crazy and so far out her mind there was no talking to her.

Quickly rummaging through my closet, I find a skirt and a top that would be proper for field service. I tire of wearing the same two dingy skirts, but there was no need to invest in more clothes I intended to wear for only an hour a day. I find my faithful black knee-length skirt and a blouse to complement my ‘oh so comfortable’ flats designed for walking door to door. Miraculously we all got ready in a reasonable time and we were at the hall before the pre-service meeting started. Look- ing at the various people coming in, I watched to see if there was anyone, in particular, I wanted to work door-to-door with.

Everyone has a clique no matter what they say. The same people sit together and carpool together and the same goes for going out in service together. The brothers mentioned before that field service should be an opportunity to go with others but I speculated it was because Sister Demps complained about how Sister Parker and Sister Harrington always work in a group together. Reason any of that even matters is because they always work with Brother Clifford, whom Sister Demps has the most obvious crush on. No one cares about the cliques until people complain that it offends them when the reality is that they are jealous or feel left out. I wouldn’t mind most of these people if they weren’t all so judgmental and hypocritical. Just my luck the cliques have parted and guess who doesn’t have a partner...

Hey, Nichole! Sister Demps sashays her way across the parking lot towards me. Me who is standing alone by our car waiting for everyone else to group together. I see you haven’t partnered up with anyone would you like to work together?

I look right through that fake smile of hers and I perceive it irritates her that the notorious threesome is at it again. As she is selling me the illusion that she wants to work with me for my sake, I notice Brother Richard making his way towards me. I better take action before I get stuck with him and he lectures me the entire time.

Sure Sister Demps I would love to work with you.

I put on my best smile and try not to make eye contact with Brother Richard, who has now appeared next to my side.

Good morning sisters. Lovely day for service am I right? Hey Nic, we haven’t worked together in a while and I’ve been meaning to talk to you so what do ya’ll say if I join ya’ll?

I knew it! God, why me? I knew I should have stayed home today. Next time I will fake my period starting like Alicia be doing.

That sounds fine with me.

Trying my hardest to fake a smile and act not bothered, I