The first time it happened, I was eight and it was two weeks after the elaborate eighth birthday party I had. He came into my room while I was doing my assignment and asked me to lie down. It hurt, like the way it hurts when my mother hits the iron spoon on my head for misbehaving. It was hurting after he was done, even when he asked me to clean up, even when my mother came home and I told her I fell down because brother Paul had told me not to tell her, that I would go to hell if I did. And I didn’t want to go to hell. The thought of fire burning my skin was too horrifying. ........Read more... https://./2016/10/02/brother-paul/#more-1134