Garnet or Garnets Curse

if I was speaking to calm down a dog. Ox looked confused as he watched me approach the door. I cautiously reached for the doorknob, but just as the door cracked open he kicked it closed.
    “No! Ox not like,” he said. This time the tone of his voice was not playful. He was angry. He grabbed me up in his arms and threw me down on the bed. I felt my breath leave me.
    If I tried to get away, the game would be on again. He knelt down on the floor beside the bed and watched me. Soon I felt him lift my nightgown again, exposing my bare breasts.
    I felt the side of the bed vigorously begin to shake and I heard Ox groan. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ox groping himself. I was petrified and closed my eyes. I prayed that when his deed was done he would leave. I knew I was wrong when the bed stopped shaking and Ox stood up with his trousers drooping down exposing himself. It was clear by the look on his face he had no idea what to do. He was like a child trapped in a man’s body.
    If I lay there longer, his curiosity might be overcome by nature’s instinct and I would be his victim. “Ox, it is time for you to go to your room. Mama is home and she will be very angry if she catches you in here!” I shouted.
    “Mama love Ox. She be angry,” he replied.
    “Yes, and she will not give you any cookies,” I said, carefully watching his face. He looked worriedly back at the door. While his back was turned, I sat up and pulled the nightgown down.
    “Mama!” Ox called out, stopping to listen for a reply. “Mama,” he called louder. There was no reply. “Mama not back,” he said, looking pleased.
    By that time I was standing. I had taken up a brass candlestick and held it behind my back. He began to close in on me. “Ox, let’s go in the kitchen and find the cookies,” I said, trying to remain calm.
    “No!” he said, reaching for me again.
    I dodged him, ran to the other side of the room and started to circle around to the door. He predicted my move, met me at the door and grabbed hold of me. His grip was painful. I raised the candlestick and struck him on the shoulder. He cried out in pain and began shaking me, causing my teeth to rattle.
    By then I was screaming. I wanted to stop, but my fear had taken control. I struggled to free myself, but he clutched me tighter against him. I could smell his breath and feel his massive body pressing me against the door.
    Without warning, the door jerked open and both of us stumbled to the floor in the hall. I heard Maria shout, “Ox!”
    Ox jumped to his feet, still with his trousers hanging open. “Mama bring Ox cookies?” he asked innocently.
    “Are you alright, Margo!” she said, helping me to my feet. I was too shaken to speak, but I shook my head.
    Then with an unbelievable mighty force, she slapped Ox across the face. “Get out of here, you—you—beast!” she shouted, unmercifully.
    Ox lowered his head. His face was reddened with the print of Maria’s hand and smeared with tears. “Ox bad, Ox bad,” he muttered, as he ran out the door.
    Maria gathered me up and helped me to the sofa. “He didn’t, did he?” she asked.
    “No,” I replied.
    “Let me put on a pot of tea,” she said, and left for the kitchen.
    The sun was shining through the large plate window warming the room, but I could not stop shaking. Shortly, Maria returned and handed me the tea and covered me with a blanket. “When you are ready, tell me what happened,” she whispered, patting me on the leg.
    I finished the tea and returned it to the saucer and she filled it again. After the second cup, my nerves were calmer and I told her what happened.
    “I should not be surprised,” she said, shaking her head. “My husband warned me this could happen. Although he was a man of the cloth, he was also a student of science. After we adopted Martin, my husband began to study mental illness and its effects on the human mind. It was my husband’s belief that once Martin reached adolescence he would have no control over his sexual conduct. The urges of a normal man would drive him wild, making him capable of violence. He begged me to have him committed. Martin was always a gentle soul and I refused. I considered Nell the mean one, but my husband insisted her problems were more of the physical nature. After my husband died and Nell left, Ox was all I had,” she said, struggling not to cry. “My fear of loneliness has proven to be a great sin.”
    “ No, no, Maria. You did what you thought was