The Visitor Monica s Diary Wednesday June 28
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The Visitor: Skyla's Diary Wednesday July 5 free porn video
The Visitor
Skyla's Diary
Wednesday, July 5
I can't believe how lame these people are. They say they want to help me,
then they do everything to mess my life up. Yeah, they got me out of
jail, but they should have never turned me in in the first place. If it
hadn't been for them I wouldn't have been there to get my head caved in
and my hair hacked off. I wouldn't have had to go to the hospital and
have all those old Amish types gawk at me every day.
And their idea of clothes is right out of the Middle Ages. I swear that
skirt they got me would have dragged the ground if I hadn't hiked it up
from time to time. And the underwear--granny panty central! No makeup, no
wig, no nothing that could possibly make me look better, not to mention
make me feel better about myself. They all wanted me to look 15 going on
75.
Then it got worse. After making fun of me for a couple of hours, they
drag me off to this stupid picnic thing. No sooner do we get there than
old Mrs. Henson and Hannah out me in front of all these fossil women and
their kids. Don't get me wrong. Nobody stoned me or anything, but now
everybody in their church knows my story. There's no way anyone will ever
treat me normal. The women all ratted me out to their husbands, and of
course, the young guys just totally ignored me. I don't think even one of
them looked at me all night.
The food was good though. After a month of jail and hospital food, I
couldn't get enough of that barbecued chicken. And those ribs, I couldn't
stop eating. I guess they had homemade bread. That and real butter and
honey, honestly if I was facing lethal injection, I would want that to be
my last meal.
The fireworks weren't that much. But what I thought was really crazy was
at the very end when everyone was sticking their hands and heads into the
freezing ice water to see how tough they were. These people are just
totally nuts.
It was real late when we got back to the Henson house. They showed me a
bed I could crash on, and boy did I. I must have been out in 3 seconds
and slept like a dead man all night. I probably would have slept half of
today if little Sarah hadn't come running in to wake me up for breakfast.
After praying over the meal--these people pray about anything and
everything at the drop of a hat--it was jabber, jabber all through
breakfast by Hannah and her sisters about everything that went on the
night before. And we were all there! All I wanted to do was sit and chew
like Mark and Josiah did and slowly wake up, but no; first Hannah and
then Sarah and then Elizabeth had to ask me over and over and over if I
had heard this or seen that. Somebody got a new haircut. Somebody else
was wearing a new blouse. Didn't I think someone's straw hat was just
adorable?
As soon as they finished eating, the boys slipped away from the table and
went outside. I would have followed them, but Mrs. Henson had me go with
the girls into the kitchen. She had some idea that I needed to learn
where everything went and came from and what products to use when. The
next thing I know I'm up to my elbows in suds washing dishes for my
breakfast, and Hannah's yelling at me to go faster and scrub harder.
Elizabeth and Sarah, one drying and one putting everything away, think
it's the funniest thing in the world.
And when we're finished--when I've cleaned the sink and swept the
kitchen--we aren't free to enjoy the day. Mrs. Henson divides the kids
into pairs and has them drill on school work. She takes me into my room
and has me make my bed and pick up all the clothes I'd dropped on the
floor the night before. Get this, she even asked me if I'd changed my
underwear! And then she made me change it! She made me brush my teeth and
floss and rinse and told me I would have to shower before church tonight.
Who goes to church on Wednesday night?????
And she still wasn't through with me. She had me sit on my bed while she
took my chair at the little desk and proceeded to grill me about
everything I knew. No, I hadn't had geometry yet; yes, I'd had a little
algebra but hadn't done very well in it. Yeah, I'd had some kind of
history, but who pays attention to that? Science was a snooze, and
English was a snore. She then wanted to know what I had read, like people
keep track of that. She started naming people who had written books. I
hadn't heard of any of them. For some reason, she thought that was
something to be sad about.
That's when she decided to gather up a bunch of tests for me to take on
different subjects, so she would know where to begin with me. I thought I
was going to have the summer off and then go to school somewhere around
here in the fall. Turns out I'm going to be home-schooled with her kids.
While she was gathering up her stuff to test me, she had me write about
my favorite story. She said it didn't have to be about a book. It could
be a movie or TV show or anything. She just wanted to know what I liked
about what I liked.
I thought for a few seconds about the story of the English guy proposing
to the beautiful lady that I'd seen on TV with my mom when I was a kid
but decided she wouldn't understand it and would probably think I was
weird. Besides, the only part of the movie I'd seen was where he
proposed. I didn't know anything else.
Then I remembered a show that Garrett and I used to watch every Sunday
night in the TV room at the boys' ranch before I got put in isolation. I
say Garrett and me; every guy at the ranch was in the room with us, and
we didn't, in fact, we hardly ever got to, sit together. But we sure
talked about it when we could. In fact, those nights when he came to see
me in my little trailer prison, he would tell me about the episode or
episodes that I'd missed. And we'd talk about what we would do in a
similar situation.
The show was about a zombie apocalypse and all the stuff the survivors
had to do to get by. There was a lot of blood and gore and shooting and
stabbing and people being eaten alive or turning into zombies themselves
and eating other people, maybe their best friends, and then getting blown
away or having their head crushed by whatever was handy. There were no
rules for anybody. It was just do what you had to do, kill or be killed,
no right, no wrong, just survive. I often thought if something like that
ever happened I could just be what I wanted to be and there would be
nothing anyone could do about it.
Well the next thing I know, I'm taking one kind of test after another. It
must have gone on for three hours. We break for lunch. The boys go
outside. The sisters and me clean up in the kitchen and then they start
working around the house and in the garden. And I'm back to taking more
tests for another three hours.
Then it's time to get ready for church, and we haven't even eaten supper
yet. And get this; all the showers are scheduled. We get 10 minutes
apiece, max. After my shower, I discover all my clothes are exactly the
same. Yeah, they have different colors and designs and fabrics, but the
skirts are all long. The tops are all dull. I mean I know I don't have
anything to show off yet, but it wouldn't matter with these towels. They
cover up everything. And for shoes, all I have are these stupid flip-
flops. Except for them, I'm dressed just like Hannah and her sisters, and
we're all just junior versions of Mrs. Henson. I might as well still be
in jail.
When old man Henson gets home--I didn't even know when he left--you'd think
it was some big deal. Everybody rushes outside and hugs and wrestles with
him. I just stood there on the front porch and watched. At some point
they all stopped, and he turns and looks at me. I don't know what I'm
supposed to do, so I give this little half-wave.
"Come on, Sky, you can do better than that," he says, and then he gives
me a big bear hug. "We love you, kid!" I kind of smiled and nodded. How
was I supposed to respond, after what they'd put me through all day?
Then we ate; another prayer, more jabber jabber, and this time the boys
joined in, and more dishwashing and sweeping up after it was over.
And then we went to church. They called it "prayer meeting," and was it
ever. We sang a couple of songs I'd never even heard of. Then the pastor
preached on something out of the Bible. I thought we were about finished
and could get out of there, but immediately after preaching, he starts
reading these letters from missionaries. Then he starts taking requests
from the floor. And it seems everybody in the church has something wrong
with them, or their relatives, or their friends, or somebody they knew 40
years ago that lives in another state.
I thought that was bad, but then they start actually praying--out loud.
They weren't those now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleep kind of prayers either.
Each man would just go on and on about how great God was, how glorious,
how wonderful, how magnificent, and then how wretched and no-good and a
bum he was, and then he'd pray over every one of the requests read by the
preacher or spoken by the members. Well, our heads were bowed and our
eyes were closed. It didn't take long for me to start dozing off. I would
wake up, and there would be another guy praying--about the very same
things! There weren't that many people at the prayer meeting, nothing
like the number at the picnic the night before, but I was terrified that
when the women started praying it would go on all night. But after the
pastor prayed, it was over.
I found out on the ride home that only the men pray out loud in this
church. When I asked why, Hannah quoted something from the Bible that she
says means that women are supposed to be silent in church. So, not only
are these people lame and nuts, they're sexists as well.
Charlize
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The Visitor Skyla s Diary Wednesday June 28
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