MISJUDGED 5

EPISODE 5

I didn’t run away as planned.

I wish I did.

I wanted to kill Meredith. I swear, I did. If I had stepped out of that house, I would have done it. And I wouldn't have cared how much of a sin it was. After all, I was already the bad egg. The condemned one. What was the point of trying to be good?

So, I did the next best thing—I drowned myself in serial killer movies. If they say you become what you watch, then this was it. I wanted to be a psychopath like those guys. Emotionless. Calculated. Free.

But even that didn’t work. Nothing ever worked.

And then, my worst fear came true. My father had made up his mind. I was going to a Christian institute. No arguments, no discussions. Just a one-way ticket to whatever holy prison he had picked for me. I was to be ‘born again by fire by thunder.’

I wasn’t even surprised. I had seen it coming.

But I had my own plan.

I would run away from that school. I would find Meredith. And with all the stupid things I had picked up from those movies, I would end her for looking me in the eye and stabbing me in the back.

I had a penknife tucked away in my bag when we left the house.

The car ride was suffocating. My father spoke, but I barely responded. My answers were short, lifeless.

"Hmm."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, sir."

I had learned that the less I spoke, the fewer problems I had to deal with. That didn’t stop me from being the subject of morning prayers, though.

"Lord, restore her soul."

"Father, deliver her from this darkness."

"God, have mercy on my daughter."

For all I cared, they were just doing what they thought was best.

Then, we arrived.

A tall-fenced environment that looked less like a school and more like a prison for sinners. I swallowed hard. Escape would be near impossible.

Sorrows. Sorrows. Prayers.

My dad pulled over and turned to me. His voice was clipped, firm.

"Better behave."

That was all. No long speeches. No last-minute warnings.

He dropped me off and left me to my demise.

An older woman, her face twisted in what I assume was meant to be a smile, walked up to me.

"Welcome to Hillview Convent," she said, her voice flat.

My eyes were red, but I didn’t cry. I couldn’t.

I had been abandoned. Again.

"Where’s the convenience?" I asked, my voice hollow.

"I’ll show you to your room," she replied, ignoring my question.

I scoffed. What is this? A "Warrior Nun" boot camp?

The room was empty. Just a bed, a small wooden table, a big Bible, and a devotional. They made me leave my bag outside for inspection. And that’s when they found it.

"Why do you have a penknife, miss?"

I stared at the woman and, without thinking, said, "I love oranges."

The sarcasm in my voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

I guess I really was turning into a psychopath. The thought should have scared me, but instead, I felt… relieved.

That relief didn’t last.

I was alone. Again.

In a strange place. Again.

With nothing but my thoughts. Again.

And then the questions started.

Why can’t You ever help me?

I was in tears, curled up in the darkness of my room.

What did I ever do to You? Why are You like this?

I was talking to God.

Why did You abandon me like everyone else?

I was breaking.

Why do You enjoy watching me suffer?

I was drowning.

For the tenth time, I considered ending it all. But something inside me whispered, Just one more time.

And so, in a voice so broken, so desperate, I whispered, "Please… help me."

That was it.

The magic word.

And everything changed.