Cassie needs this bedroom for her spiritual purification retreats. Your medical recovery bed is set up in the hallway.
The next morning, the home healthcare nurse was a no-show. I tried her number, but it went straight to voicemail. Then the phone rang. It was the regional medical supply vendor.
“Mrs. Hensley,” the woman on the line said, her voice clipped, “we’ve received an order to suspend all deliveries to your address.”
My stomach dropped. “What? Why?”
“Non-payment, ma’am. Specifically, your outstanding balance for oxygen tanks and home nursing services. We’re showing a zero balance on your account since yesterday.”
My blood ran cold. Miriam. It had to be Miriam. She hadn’t just frozen my recovery funds; she was actively trying to cut off my lifeline.
I walked into the kitchen where Miriam was sipping herbal tea, a serene expression on her face. Cassie was next to her, scrolling through her phone, a small, smug smile playing on her lips.
“My nurse didn’t come,” I said, my voice tight. “And my oxygen deliveries have been canceled.”
Miriam set her teacup down, her gaze calm, almost pitying.
“Ah, yes,” she said, as if discussing the weather. “A necessary measure, Evelyn. Your persistent refusal to submit to the spiritual guidance of the Covenant is creating spiritual pollution in this house.”
Cassie snorted quietly, still looking at her phone.
“Spiritual pollution?” I managed, my chest growing tight. “You’re cutting off my medical supplies? You want me to have another heart attack?”
Miriam folded her hands. “Physical health, Evelyn, is secondary to the purification of the soul. The elders are deeply concerned for your eternal well-being.”
She pushed a document across the table. It was a formal waiver, written in legalese.
“Sign this,” she said, her voice unnervingly gentle. “Acknowledge the authority of the Order over your property and your person. Relinquish all legal appeals. Then, and only then, will the Lord’s mercy flow, and your earthly needs be met.”
My hands clenched at my sides. My vision blurred slightly, my breath growing shallow. This was a direct assault, a calculated move to break me physically. She wasn’t just trying to steal my house; she was trying to kill me.
“I will not,” I gasped, leaning heavily on my cane. “I will not sign away my life to your cult.”
Miriam sighed, a sound of disappointment. “As you wish, Evelyn. The Lord works in mysterious ways. Perhaps this physical trial will bring you closer to His truth.”
She picked up her teacup, dismissing me.
I turned and walked away, my legs unsteady. The cruel irony was not lost on me. They thought they had me cornered, dependent. But they hadn’t accounted for a lifetime of preparation.
Back in my studio, I pulled out a locked metal cabinet. Inside were two small, portable oxygen concentrators, a full month’s supply of my medication, and an old, heavy-duty first-aid kit. I’d stocked them years ago, a habit from my early engineering days, always preparing for the worst-case scenario.
My breath still came in shallow gasps, but the fear had sharpened into pure, cold determination. Miriam had just underestimated her opponent. Again.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours