Chapter 38
On the outside, it looks like the beast has been tamed. Betsey is very quiet when I do my chores at the Barstowe household. She doesn't even look my way. To be honest, I find this more disconcerting than when she'd viciously stare at me. I can't help thinking she's plotting against me.
I try to ignore my growing suspicions because everything else in the house is going well. The other family-wives love Stacy. She doesn't make them pray at all hours, nor does she spy on them. The only one who she tells on is Betsey, so the former head-wife constantly finds herself in hot water with the Mister.
I'm thrilled to say that the wives have continued with their old habit of leaving me their leftover food. My stomach thanks them as I gobble up the tasty morsels. I'm thinking about how much better the atmosphere is in the Barstowe household as I start washing the dishes. Then I hear Stacy angrily reprimand Betsey from the other room.
"What's wrong with you?" questions Stacy. "Master Barstowe is about to get here, and you haven't gotten his weekly bath ready. I'll have to do it myself."
"I'll do it," snaps Betsey.
"No, you prepare him his coffee. He wants instant coffee today. You’d better make it the way he likes it!"
"Monica can do that. She--"
"I said for you to prepare it."
Betsey stomps into the kitchen. Pouring some water in a sauce pan, she glares at the instant coffee. She scampers to a cabinet and grabs his favorite mug with the Santa on it. I keep washing the dishes and ignoring her.
"I bet you're enjoying all of this," she snaps.
I don't look up from my soapy dishes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"One day I'll be the head-wife again!" she assures.
I shrug. "Okay."
"I mean it!"
"Okay."
"You're so smug," she retorts. "I hate you so much."
"Okay."
"You wouldn't be so smug if the Mister didn't spoil you."
"I've got work to do, Betsey. I don't have time to argue with you," I state.
"I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!"
"I don't really care how you feel about me."
"You will when I show you how much I hate you!" Betsey shouts as she snatches the saucepan with the boiling water from the stove and lifts it over me.
"What are you doing, Betsey?" I say, trying to sound much calmer than I am.
"Accidents happen! You accidentally knocked some hot water on yourself. Let's see how much Master Barstowe loves you after you're damaged?"
"Put the pan down, Betsey," I say softly. If I make any sudden moves, I'm sure she'll throw the water on me. Her eyes are so wild that I'm certain she doesn't just want to stop at burning me. Keep calm, I keep telling myself.
"You'll be so ugly that no one can will ever love you!--or with any luck you'll be dead!"
"Betsey," I coax, "if you burn me, you'll get into lots of trouble."
"No one is going to know."
"There's no way I'd be burning myself from the angle you want to throw the water on me from."
"I'll think of something." Her dead-set eyes bore into mine.
"Betsey, don't do this. You'll end up messing your own self up."
"I have to do this, Monica. The Great Master told me to take care of the unfaithful and bad followers like you." A small smile plays on her lips. The hand with the saucepan is twitching. If I don't do something, I'm a goner. She doesn't just want to scorch me; she wants to burn me to death!
Swiftly, I start moving away from her. She flings the saucepan at me as the kitchen door opens. I don't look to see who it is because as the water and burning pan land on the entire right side of my arm, I shriek with blistering agony.
Ahhhhhh!!!!!!!!
"WHAT DID YOU DO, BETSEY?!" the Mister roars.
"I . . . I . . ."
In the meantime, I force myself to the sink where I turn on the cold water. Some relief rolls over me with the cool liquid, but the scorching pain is still melting off my skin.
Ahhhhhhh!
I struggle not to pass out, but waves and waves of fresh pain are trying to take me under.
"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!" the Mister demands to know as he strides over to Betsey who sinks to the floor and then cowers next to the kitchen cabinets. "YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS! YOU WILL PAY DEARLY!"
The last thing I remember before passing out is the Mister grabbing Betsey off the floor and flinging her to the wall.
Paradise Abductions Page 38
