Scapegoat

I froze at the entrance to the living room. Uh oh. My parents were sitting together on the couch, and they both had that serious look I'd seen too often. I racked my brain trying to think what I might have done this time, but I was drawing a blank.

"Hello, dear," said my mom. "You know our new neighbors, the Millers? We'll be attending the morning service at their church tomorrow. That includes you."

Several emotions ran through me in quick succession: Relief that I wasn't about to receive another lecture. Annoyance at having my social plans disrupted. But mostly, confusion. My family wasn't particularly religious. Sure, we'd attend the occasional Easter or Christmas mass at the cathedral downtown, but my parents had never been much for God talk. We didn't even say grace at dinners. Also...

"Wait a minute," I said. "Tomorrow's Saturday. What are they, Seventh Day Adventists?"

"No," said my dad. "They go to Rock of Ages Fellowship. It's an independent church. Nondenominational."

"Alright," I said. I was still a little pissed that I'd be missing the weekly brunch with my girl friends, but I could hardly refuse these kinds of requests from mom and dad while living under their roof. Even if I was legally an adult now. "What time should I be ready?"

"The service starts at ten," said my dad. "So we'll be leaving here at nine fifteen sharp."

The next morning, after I'd showered and done up my waist-length red hair in a crown braid, I perused the dresses in my closet looking for one that was attractive but not too slutty. I certainly didn't want to give off the wrong impression. Ultimately I opted for the same outfit I'd worn last Easter, a sky blue ankle-length number with a square neckline that avoided cleavage while still showing off my spectacular freckled collarbones. Some low comfortable platform shoes, delicate earrings, and a touch of makeup completed the ensemble. I made it downstairs with minutes to spare; my parents were already waiting.

"Stunning," said my dad appraising my form.

"You'll be turning heads for sure, sweetie," my mom laughed. The three of us trooped out to the family SUV.

The church was in the next suburb over, about twenty minutes away on a light traffic day. As we pulled into the parking lot, I looked up at the building--pretty typical for a church, red brick, neoclassical portico, tall steeple, square annex in back. We walked past the greeter in the front foyer and into the main sanctuary. It looked like it could fit maybe five hundred people, but only a couple dozen were currently there. I guess we were super early. My parents spotted the Millers and went over to talk with them while I sat down in one of the back pews.

"I haven't seen you here before. What's your name?" I looked up to see a cute boy about my age standing in the aisle leaning over me. He had a sharp nose, dimpled cheeks, and tousled dark brown hair. His maroon button-down shirt and khakis were a little creased, but he smelled nice, like fresh aftershave.

"Anna," I replied smiling. "I'm just visiting. What about you?"

"I'm Peter Tolman, the pastor's son." He gestured at a thickset middle-aged man with similar hair engaged in an intense conversation with someone on the front pew.

Peter and I continued talking as more people shuffled in. I found out that--like me--he was an incoming freshman at the state university. Even though I was pre-med and he was planning to major in aerospace engineering, we shared a fascination with European geography and history. "I'd love to do the big European tour some time," he said wistfully. "I've never visited. And I probably won't anytime soon with all this tuition debt I'm taking on."

I was excitedly telling him about a school trip I'd taken to London a couple of years ago where I'd visited the reconstructed Globe Theatre when the organist started playing the prelude. With a polite nod to me, Peter walked down the aisle to the front pew while my parents settled in beside me. The service had begun.

We sang a few hymns, the words projected on a screen above the pulpit, before the pastor stood up to give his sermon. Reverend Tolman opened his remarks by recounting a passage from the book of Leviticus about the ancient Israelite practice of offering two goats to God, one to be a blood sacrifice and the other--the "scapegoat"--to be a cursed vessel filled with the sins of the people and driven into exile in the desert. The rest of his sermon dove into the symbology of the act and its foretelling of Jesus. I confess my mind wandered a bit, and I wasn't really paying attention. Once he had finished speaking, we wrapped up the meeting with a final hymn. I was relieved when the whole ordeal was over and I could go about the rest of my day. I decided to treat it as an interesting cultural experience and hope my parents didn't ask me to attend further services.

Before leaving, I remembered Peter's handsome face and thought about getting his contact info. Maybe we could meet up on campus in a month when classes started. However, when I scanned the sanctuary I couldn't see him anywhere. Oh, well. I shrugged my shoulders and followed my parents into the foyer.

Reverend Tolman stood at the front entrance, shaking the hands of the churchgoers as they streamed outside. When he reached me, he grasped my hand tightly and looked directly into my eyes. "Young lady," he said. "Could you come with me for a bit?"

"Go ahead, Anna," said my mom breezily. "We'll wait for you in the car."

Disconcerted, I followed the pastor back into the sanctuary and down the center aisle towards the front. What could this possibly be about? I was a stranger to him, a first-time visitor to the church. Did he see me talking to his son before the service? Was that forbidden or something? A knot of fear and apprehension was forming deep in my stomach.

He led me into a small room just behind the organ. Peter waited there. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw me. "She's the one?" he said.

"She is," said his dad. "Hold her."

Peter walked toward me with an apologetic grimace and grabbed both of my arms, swinging me around to face his dad. Reverend Tolman closed the door before gripping the top of my dress and yanking down sharply. Fabric tore, and my pale freckled boobs bounced into view, bare nipples puckering in the cool air. I froze in shock and terror. Before I could let out a scream, Reverend Tolman slapped his hand over my mouth.

"If you think anyone in earshot is going to help you, you're mistaken," he said. "But I don't want a ruckus. Make any noise, and this will go so much worse for you. Do you understand?" I nodded, sniffling, my eyes brimming with tears.

Still held in an ironclad grip by Peter, I watched horrified as the pastor stripped me of the rest of my clothes. After my dress had pooled at my feet, he ripped apart my panties and hose and slipped off my platform shoes. I was left in nothing but my earrings, the ruins of my Sunday best left in a heap on the floor. They could see all the goods--my pale pink areolae, the trimmed red hair on my mound, my demure slit, that mole I'd always hated on the side of my right ass cheek.

"Why are you doing this?" I whispered breathily, afraid to invite wrath by speaking any louder.

"It's simple," said Reverend Tolman. "We need a scapegoat, and you've been ordained for the position. You'll be the centerpiece for tonight's service." He turned to Peter. "I've got her in hand. Go and double-check the room again. We'll be along shortly." Peter left, closing the door behind him. I was still too stunned to think about making a break for it.

"Scapegoat?" I said.

"Yes," the pastor said frowning. "Weren't you paying any attention to my sermon? The scapegoat, to be filled with all the sins of the people."

"I...This doesn't make any sense. Didn't Jesus become the scapegoat?"

"Jesus replaced the blood sacrifice. But the scapegoat?" He scoffed. "How can the Son of Man be cursed? Come on now."

I shook my head. I couldn't believe I was standing here in the nude arguing the finer points of theology. Given my precarious state, I was hesitant to hear the answer to my next question, but I had to know.

"So...How exactly will I 'be filled with all the sins of the people'?"

"Through the ample application of the rod, of course." He grabbed at his crotch so I couldn't possibly mistake his meaning.