For a moment, I stare at the door through which he disappeared. Next to it is a small post … on which a scarf lies. My scarf. The one I wore on the day we met.
Did he place it there just to entice me? To coax me into wanting more?
The scarf pulls me toward it like a magnet. My fingers gently caress the fabric and the symbol; the same symbol on his hand.
They must be connected. This can’t be a coincidence.
He put this here on purpose for me to find. For me to realize … to remember …
I close my eyes and dig into my memories, memories of a long-buried past … my childhood.
A woman with beautiful, dark, and thick flowing auburn hair wraps a scarf around my neck. She pats it down and tucks it into my coat, zipping me up. I’m like a walking stuffed marshmallow man. I shiver. It’s so cold, and where we’re going, I’m going to need all the warmth I can get.
Outside.
Boots crackle across the snow. There’s a path going toward the dark forest beyond.
Behind me, the woman waves at me. I wave back.
I’m about to leave … and she isn’t coming with me.
I look ahead. In front of me is a boy, and on his hand is that same tattoo.
Then he grabs me and whisks me off into the dark.
Away from home.
My eyes burst open. I can’t breathe.
The firmly clutched scarf drops from my hand onto the floor.
What did I just see? Was that a figment of my imagination? Or a … memory?
It’s been so long since I last had these fragmented images flash through my head. I used to always push them away and force them to leave because I don’t want to know. I don’t want to remember how I got from there to here … How I ended up an orphan.
But maybe that’s the answer to everything that’s happening to me now.
Picking up the scarf again, I bring it to my nose because the smell always calms me down. But the scent that enters my nose doesn’t remind me of my home. It smells like him.
Someone knocks on the door, breaking my chain of thought. “Natalie? Can we enter?”
I quickly tuck the scarf underneath my pillow in my bunk bed and clear my throat. “Yes.”
The door opens and in steps Emmy, April, and Holly. They tentatively look around to see if he’s still there as if that’s something to be excited about. Even April has given in to the charade, and I look her straight in the eyes, hoping she’ll remember that she isn’t one of them. We don’t belong here.
“Has the patriarch left?” Emmy whispers.
I nod, and she closes the door shut. “You have to tell us all about him. Was he kind to you? Was he sweet? Caring? Gentle?”
Emmy and Holly are all up in my face now, and I don’t like it one bit.
I hold up my hands. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
Emmy squeals. “Oh my … I’m so excited. I wish I could say jealous, but that would be a sin, so I won’t ever feel that way. But I’m so happy for you.” She gives me a kiss on both cheeks before I can say no.
“It’s a great honor to have the attention of a patriarch,” she adds.
“Hmm, if you say so.” I roll my eyes.
“What did he want from you?” Holly asks. “Oh, wait,” she immediately adds. “Don’t say anything. It’s not my place to ask. I apologize.”
I’m glad she corrected her because it really is none of her business.
“I am very curious, though,” she says, tapping her chin. “He brought you back from a punishment so there must be something special. No one’s ever interrupted a punishment before it was finished.”
A punishment … sounds as if they’re quite used to seeing people get hurt here.
“Maybe it was love,” I jest, but the girls seem to take me seriously.
“Of course. Love is what drives our community.” Emmy nods.
“Exactly. Love brings us together,” Holly says. “God wants us to love and forgive.”
A load of bollocks if you ask me.
Love … but punish one another if someone commits some kind of sin.
Still, I can’t believe Emmy is so happy and cheerful when the whole reason I got into that mess in the first place was because I slapped her.
I suck in a breath and direct my attention toward her. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for what I did.”
Even if she was getting under my skin, she only knows what she knows, and I can’t blame her for being ignorant. It’s how she was raised.
“It’s okay,” she says, smiling. “I forgive you.”
“That easily?” I narrow my eyes.
“Of course. Forgiveness is love, and the Lord forgives everyone who love in His name.”
Oh man, there they go again with that Godly stuff. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.
Suddenly, a bell begins to ring in the distance, and Emmy’s face lights up like a Christmas tree.
“Oooh! It’s almost time for the ceremony. I completely forgot.” She immediately grabs my arm and whisks me off to the closet. “We need to put you in some appropriate clothes.”
“For what?” I ask.
“The ceremony,” Holly says. “Don’t you know?”
“No, the elder’s wife never told us about that,” April says. “Just some kind of ritual.”
“Oh … well, the ritual takes place at the ceremony. The ceremony is basically the place, the actual happening … and the ritual is how the women become wives.”
I frown. “What kind of ceremony or ritual is it?”
Emmy smiles. “You’ll see. Now c’mon, put this on. Your clothes look messy from your punishment. You can’t go outside like that.”
She throws a whole new white dress on the bed and hastily takes mine off without even asking me if I’m okay with it. They quickly undress and redress me into an outfit that looks exactly the same as if they’ve done this a million times before. A shawl is laced around my head, and my hair is tucked in as though I’m a nun. I feel like a puppet going to a show.
When everyone’s dressed, Emmy leads the way to the door and out into the community again. I follow, wondering where she’ll take us. There are a lot of people on the move right now, doors opening left and right, people streaming out in hoards. All of us are going in the same direction … the huge building that the elder sister marked as “the showers.”
I look around at all the people walking in droves in the same direction, chatting about how they are and what mundane tasks they’ve done today. Both men and women all walk in line toward that same building, and I’m starting to wonder if that’s where the ceremony will take place.
When we’re finally at the gigantic doors, I take a look inside. There are rows and rows of showers both left and right, none with any separation whatsoever. My eyes widen as everyone in front of us randomly takes their clothes off and places them in the big bins near the door.
Everyone’s walking around naked with not a care in the world, and people step under the showers together, sharing the soap bars like one big, happy family.
“Your turn,” Emmy says. Pushing me forward, she forces me to enter.
I shake my head. “This is the showers?”
“Yeah, it’s time for a nice shower,” she says. “Take off your clothes.” She peels away the layers of her own dress, throwing it into the bin before grabbing a soap bar off the many racks. “Go on.”
My throat clamps up. “I can’t do this,” I say, trying to step back, but the crowd behind me won’t let me.
There’s an elder by the door staring me down until I back away.
“Take off your clothes,” she barks. It’s not a question.
I shiver as I walk to a corner of the building and stay there.
Holly comes toward me and peels off the layers one by one until I’m left with nothing but my hands covering my body.
“C’mon,” she says, and she grabs my hand and leads me into the showers where men and women all stand together washing their naked bits, seemingly unaware of one another.
But I’m not … I’m acutely aware of my own body and the scar that’s on my belly, always reminding me of what human contact has done to me. Why did I have to get dressed only to get undressed? Is that part of the ceremony? Does everyone here shower like this, in front of everyone? And why?
I glance over my shoulder. April’s holding hands with Emmy, who’s guiding her into the showers just like Holly is pushing me, trying to get us to conform. But I’m not ready for any of this.
“Is there nowhere private?” I ask softly.
“No, silly,” Emmy says as she walks behind us. “This is where all the adults clean themselves of their sins. And the dirt, of course.” She giggles.
This is the norm for her, but it isn’t for me, and even when the water cascades down on me, I still find the need to hide myself in a corner, hoping no one will watch.
A man walks by, and I feel even more uneasy than before, so I quickly rub the soap all over, rinse it off, and walk out.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m done,” I say, leaving soaking wet footprints on the floor.
“Towel,” the elder sister at the door says, and I whisk it out of her hand before she can say another word, wrapping it around my body as tightly as I possibly can in order to hide the more intimate parts of me.
I never wanted to share this with anyone, let alone every random stranger in this community.
But I guess this is their thing. Sharing is caring. Love means no limits.
“Put on the slippers,” the elder sister says, and she hands me a pair.
I do what she asks, and she points at a different door than the one through which we entered this building. I narrow my eyes at her, hoping I might be able to slip past so I can go back to the hut and pretend I don’t exist, but of course, she’d never let that happen. I contemplate bursting past her or inflicting pain, but one glance over her shoulder confirms my fears; guards.
They’ve been following me wherever I go, and I don’t think they’re going to stop anytime soon. Not until I’ve assimilated completely and am no longer a flight risk, I assume.
With disdain, I spin around and walk into the direction the elder sister points at. There’s a thick, heavy door I can barely open that leads to a set of stairs with no escape route. I checked. I swallow away the lump in my throat and head upstairs. There’s no one behind me, so there’s no pressure, but I know they’ll be watching, waiting for my hesitation. I tilt my head and find multiple cameras hanging in the corners. Of course.
Who’s watching? I’m not sure, but if I can guess, it’s probably one of the higher-ups.
The door in front of me is closed, but there are loud noises behind it. I lean in and press my ear against it. Actual music is coming from the other side. Like, loud organs playing bombastic, almost etheric music. That must be where the ceremony is.
After taking a big breath, I open the doors and step outside onto a terrace, high above the ground. Flickering lights hanging from the balcony distract from the view, and I squint to get a better look. There are tables and chairs everywhere, but no feast to be found. But there is beer and lots of it, and people dance to the music as if they do this every week. For a second, I almost imagine myself being at this weird bar, getting my vibe on and meeting new people.
But then I remember I’m in a cult, and every inch of my fantasy is chipped away.
These people are insane.
They cheer each other on as they dance and bump into each other. Men are groping women, and no one says a word or jumps in. Men are grabbing women, putting a scarf around their heads, and forcing them to their knees.
What is happening?
There’s a stage all the way in the back where seven men are seated, watching over the entire spectacle as if it’s something they enjoy, like a show being put on by performers.
One of them is him. Noah.
He sits right there on that stage as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
As though he sensed I was watching him, he suddenly looks me directly in the eyes. I can’t tear my eyes away, no matter how hard I try. His penetrating gaze makes it impossible, and it’s almost as if he wants me to see.
See this. Know that this is what they do.
The same thing that will happen to me once the initiation is finished.
A shiver runs along my spine.
When I finally manage to tear my eyes away, I can’t help but look at the women on their knees, who offer their wrists to men. They willingly offer themselves to be bound … and fucked.
In front of everyone.
Their towels ripped off.
Bodies naked and on display.
Fucked from behind like some kind of animal.
