by Ker Dukey
My soul vibrates the skeleton inside my skin, wanting to tear through the flesh and flee. I want him to refuse, but his feet carry him toward my father like a good little sheep. I hadn't even noticed he was wearing a robe.
I hate him.
"May our Lord shine his light on you," my father says before nodding to the fisherman's son. He disrobes and takes his place behind Megan. Sickness burns my throat as he touches himself to enable him to penetrate her. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as he grips her hips, then a gasps escapes at his intrusion, her small body jolting forward. He grunts as he pistons his hips, all eyes watching this abomination. I close my eyes and try to block out the groans and slapping of skin.
When he’s finished, another kneels in place behind her, and then another, all leaving their fluids inside her. There’s a pause. I open my eyes to see what’s happening. Daniel, the youngest boy, is crying. “I can’t,” he chokes out, rubbing at himself. My father gestures for him to shift out of the way and begins disrobing.
Oh my God, please no.
He smacks Megan’s leg, forcing her raise her buttocks further, then takes her cruelly, causing her to cry out. Her knuckles turn white from gripping onto the cushion beneath the book as he ruts on her like an animal. The old man salivates, waiting his turn.
My jaw aches from clenching so hard, and tears race down my cheeks when I see them pouring from Megan’s eyes as the old man takes his spot behind her. He’s only inside her for three thrusts, then falls over her back, grunting his release.
I wish I could fly her away from here, grow a pair of wings and whisk her to a better place. Where is that?
Eli is last to take the position, his eyes cutting to me.
I glare right back, my eyes slits, my hatred coming off me in waves.
I’ll never forgive you for this.
His apology pours from his eyes, but he’s not sorry. If he were, he wouldn’t be up there. I die a little when he enters her abused, sore body. She lets out a pained whine, her eyes closing, teeth gritted.
Small, fragile bones poke out of her hip as he holds her there, his thrusts slow and torturous. Echoes of her pained grunts fill the toxic atmosphere, searing into our brains. My nails burrow into my skin with every passing second of his skin slapping against hers. Pain fires up my leg, giving me a reprieve. We’re trapped in an endless loop while he tries to finish his duties, fully aware I’m here watching. I wish it was easier for him just so Megan doesn’t have to endure his administrations any longer than necessary.
Finally, he grunts and pulls out, a coat of sweat leaving a sheen covering his skin. My father beams a smile over at him. I want to kill them all.
The curtain finally closes, announcing the ritual is complete. I rush out of the place before anyone else. I want to tear from my skin and dissipate on the breeze. I can't live like this, with these traditions. It's sickness wrapped in belief. How can any Lord, any God, want his children to suffer such a thing?
"Are you okay?" Mary asks, chasing behind me, a downward tilt to her lips.
I want to scream in her face, but I catch myself before I do. She's a believer, devoted and true. “I’m fine. Just queasy from the sickness earlier.” I nod and wave goodbye.
I have a couple hours before my father will return to the house. I need those hours.
Eight
Mona
The cold water from the shower punishes my skin. I sob and scream into the stream, conscious of the fact I won’t be heard.
Opening the bathroom door, I poke my head out to ensure the coast is clear, then make a run for my room and slam the door closed. My heart hammers in my chest as I sit on the bed, pulling the matchbox from my pocket. A few sweets fall to the floor with a soft clink.
A rap on the window startles me. I quickly stuff the matchbox under my pillow and go to the window, edging it open.
“Mona.” Eli sighs, standing there still in his white robe. I want to expel vomit all over him again. “Are you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brow.
“No, I’m not feeling very well.” More lies. “Nice outfit.” I gesture to his robe, grimacing.
“I’m sorry. You understand it’s not something I can refuse.”
“Yes, it is.” I shake my head in disbelief.
“About the proposal.” He fidgets, pulling out the box with the ring inside. Was that in his pocket while he was defiling poor Megan?
“Eli,” I warn with a shake of my head.
“You didn’t exactly get to answer me earlier…well, not with the answer I was hoping for.” He laughs, but it’s awkward, nervous, fake.
“I’ve told you I’m not ready to…”
“To what? Be with me properly? Is there someone else you see yourself with?”
Yes! Anyone else after what you did. You make me want to scrub my skin until your touch bleeds from it.
“No, it’s not about anyone else, it’s about me.”
His eyes scan past me into the room. “Has Claudia been here?”
I follow his gaze to the sweets. “I saw her earlier. Why?”
He’s aware that she brings me things—us things. Like birth control in the form of condoms Eli keeps hidden for our nights together.
“How is she? There are talks of a union between her and Andrew Miller.”
“Really?” Andrew already has two wives. “I’m not really feeling great, Eli.” I rub a hand over my stomach for emphasis.
“Eaten too much candy.” He smiles, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
“Maybe.”
“Your father will want to hear your answer to my proposal. He’s pushing for this.”
I hate you for this. A dark cloud descends over my head, the rain imminent. I have nothing I could appease my father with and he will force this on me. Eli knew that when he got down on his knee. It produces an ache in my soul. He was supposed to be my friend before anything else, and this feels like the worst kind of betrayal.
“I realize you’re upset with me, but Mary’s father has been speaking with mine about a possible union, and I can’t…I won’t have anyone but you as my wife. This was always the plan, we just have to do it sooner than you want to.”
“Sooner than I want to?” I question.
“I’ve been ready to have you as my wife since you turned sixteen and gave me your virginity.”
It was painful and over within minutes—the biggest disappointment of that day—and I was fifteen. I want to tell him, but nothing I say penetrates his comprehension.
“Let me sleep on it. Can we talk more tomorrow please?” I beg, intentionally all too aware there won’t be a tomorrow for me here. Tonight, I’m leaving with Claudia. It will hurt my mother, but I need to find out what happened to Clara. I owe her that—and I owe it to myself to see what made her want to leave, what was so alluring she needed to return to. I need to never have to look at Eli’s face conscious of what he’s capable of.
“Okay. Tomorrow. Mona…I love you. I promise I won’t take another wife. You’re it for me, forever. Remember that.”
“What about when there are more cleansings? Megan could be walking around pregnant with your child,” I argue.
“God’s child. You understand cleansings are about God’s forgiveness. No man taking part are required to be with her afterward.”
You make me sick.
“I need to sleep.”
“Okay. I love you.”
Closing the window, I pull the drapes across and gather myself, trying to clear my thoughts. I leave the candy under my pillow for when my mother comes to look for me. She’ll recognize why I had to go and hopefully forgive me for breaking the promise I made to her.
I hear the front door open and close. My parents’ voices carry through the house. Holding my breath, fear clogs my throat when heavy footfalls pound toward my room. The door opens, and my father waltzes inside with a toolbox.
“Father?” I ask as he goes to my window and begins hammering nails into it.
No!
Dread burrows into the marrow of existence, splintering my soul.
How could he know? Eli?
Without even acknowledging me, he goes to my door and affixes a small bolt before shutting the door. I rush toward it, but the clicking of the lock tells me what I already concluded: I’m a prisoner.
Switching off the light, I crawl onto the bed, grab my pillow, and scream into it. I want to call out to the afterlife and beg Clara to come for me. I’d rather be dead than a prisoner for the rest of my life.
My eyes feel heavy. The day has taken its toll.
But if I sleep, I’m admitting defeat, and it’s all over. The necklace gripped tight in my fist feels like a ticking timebomb.
It was a warning rather than a sign.
The shadows creep into my room, chasing away the light, camouflaging me in their shelter. Soon, it’ll be midnight. I’ve waited five long years for this, and now it’s being stolen away from me.
My sister’s death and Megan’s cleansing play on repeat in my mind, eating away at me.
We deserve answers and to seek liberty. Megan wanted freedom. If I can gain that, it will be more than just for myself. It will be for Clara and Megan and all the girls like us.
Packing my bag as quietly as possible, I shove it beneath my bed. As soon as that bolt unlocks, I’m going to find a way to get out of here.
I want to claw at my own skin as I watch the clock. A soft click drags my attention to my bedroom door slowly opening. My mother stands there staring at me, pain in her eyes. With a shaky finger held against her lips she murmurs, “Shhh,” and then she’s gone.
I want to cry, but manage to refrain.
She’s letting me go.
She’s freeing me.
I snatch up the bag from beneath the bed. My heart beats like a war drum. Every second feels like a fight for survival. If I’m caught, it’s game over. My father will never allow me out of his sight, and Eli will never forgive me. Pulling the strap of my bag over my shoulder, I creep through the house. The front door is open for me.
Thank you, Mother.
I race from the house, heading straight toward the dock, and check my watch.
11:55.
She’s there. I see her. “Claudia,” I whisper, gaining her attention. Relief settles into her features as a smile tugs at her lips. “You came.” She exhales.
We embrace for a second, grateful to each other for being here. Rows of big fishing boats line the dock, along with three supply boats and a couple smaller wooden boats hidden in between. Nerves chew away at my insides. A rush of anxiety stirs through me as she pushes me up the dock and takes my bag from me while keeping watch of our surroundings.
“Get in.” She gestures to a smaller boat used for perimeter checks. My mouth pops open. It’s so much smaller up close. Is that even safe? “And put this on.” She picks up a life vest and hands it to me.
“We’re not taking your dad’s?” I worry my lip, my heart racing as I slip into the vest.
“Do you want him to come looking for it?” She raises a brow in question.
No.
Hell no.
Crap, of course not. Taking the smaller one makes sense. It’s only used for traveling around the island’s borders.
I pull the necklace from my pocket and fasten it around my neck, needing to ease my impending meltdown.
“How long will it be to get across the water in this?” I step into the boat with her help, stalling when it rocks, almost knocking me over. I take a couple breaths, then carefully sit, grateful to see a couple blankets folded inside.
“There’s a motor we can use once we’re far enough away. We don’t want to raise suspicion with the noise.” I lift a rope attached to the motor she speaks of. “Don’t pull that yet!” She raises her hand in warning, and I hold up my own, releasing the rope. “Okay. Is this what makes it start?”
“Yes.” She exhales, her eyes closing briefly.
When they spring back open, they fall to my chest, to the necklaces hanging there. Her brow pulls down as she studies the small pendants. “Where did you get those?” she asks, a look of surprise in her eyes.
“Do you know where she got these?” Urgency and hope spill out in my tone. Tracing Clara’s last movements building up to her murder is key to finding who did this to her.
“Claudia?” a voice calls out from the darkness. “Is that you?”
Oh my God, we’ve been caught. A stone lodges in my throat as fear seizes my muscles. Crap. My father will never allow me to leave. He’ll cleanse me for this while the entire village watches. Acid burns my throat, and tears well in my eyes as Claudia holds a finger to her lips, encouraging me to keep silent.
“Claudia, is that you? What are you doing?”
Fear ignites in her eyes as footfalls pound against the dock. Her eyes track over her shoulder to her bags, still sitting too far away from us. Defeat mars her features, her body sagging. She tosses my bag at my feet.
“Claudia?” I whisper-yell. Shaking her head, she unties the boat from the dock, her panicked eyes boring into me. “Get down under the blanket. Do not come out for any reason. Promise me.” She jumps back to the dock, and chucks a small object at me.
“Take that. Find the Ward brothers. They’ll have some answers. That’s where your sister’s body was found, on their property. Travel directly east, you can’t miss it. Go straight east, Mona. It will bring you there,” she instructs, pushing the boat out into the water.
“Wait—you’re not coming?”
“Go,” she urges as I slide to the bottom of the boat and pull the blanket over myself to hide. I can see her silhouette through a sliver of a gap just as a hand reaches around her mouth from behind. No, no, no. Tears fall rapidly down my cheeks as her body is pulled backward. It’s too late. She’s been caught. Pain squeezes my chest. This was supposed to be her getaway. I wait to see if the warden will return. Did he see the boat moving away before he took her? Holding my breath, I start counting. When I get to a thousand and the dock fades from view, I sit up, examining the object she tossed me. A compass. My soul grieves for what she lost helping me, but I understand I owe it to her to make it. Taking the paddles, I begin to row into the darkness, letting it swallow me. There’s no turning back.
I’m doing it.
I’m free.
When I’m far enough away, I tug on the rope to start the small engine. Nothing happens. No, no, no. I pull again almost toppling over, a spatter of noise pierces the air and then dies. Argh! Despair and determination has me yanking harder on the rope. Finally, the engine comes to life with two more strong pulls. I silently thank Claudia and sag in relief. Taking my seat, I calm my breathing and then head east, as instructed.
The night is frigid. Rain begins to hammer down. I stare into nothingness, the black from the night blinding me. Time is endless. It’s been hours I’ve been drifting, at least three. Lights glimmer from afar, getting closer with each labored breath I gulp. A scraping sound triggers the boat to rock. The water thrashes, pouring over the sides. I’m jolted and tossed around as the boat hits rocks.
I try to hold on, but I’m flung from the boat’s safety, plunged into the ice-cold water, which steals my breath. The vest keeps my head above the surface as I attempt to breathe and gain control. My leg hits something beneath the water, a slicing pain penetrating my nerve-endings. My hands reach out, grasping boulders, fear and desperation driving me to find strength to pull myself to safety. I can’t swim. Thank God for the rocks.
Pulling myself up with tired arms, I tug off the vest and fall onto my back when I hit grass.
My dress is ruined and torn. When I catch my breath, I get to my feet, attempting to inspect the cut, seeing nothing more than dark wetness bleeding down my leg. Crap, that hurts. I edge forward a couple steps, and blinding light flicks on, lighting everything around me. “This is private property,” a man calls out. “Don’t move.”
My heart races, the urge to run making my legs tingle.
>
A mountain of a man appears a few seconds later, dressed in black, his skin as dark as the night sky. “Ma’am, please come with me.”
Holding an umbrella over my head, he leads me toward a vast building with turrets and gargoyles. It looks almost like a castle from the story books. I check the surroundings, then glace up at the man guiding me. Will he catch me if I run?
“Don’t even think about it. The gates are locked. There’s nowhere for you to go, unless you want to get wet again…” His voice is deep and rumbling.
“What do you want with me?” I ask, shivering from the cold seeping into my skin.
“Nothing. Mr. Ward, however, may have other plans.”
Mr. Ward...
Nine
Mona
The man keeps frowning down at me, and I can’t help but smile up at him.
I’m scared, but I’m free from my father. If this man kills me, at least it was because of my actions, and I’ll be with Clara.
He opens a large wooden door and gestures for me to go inside.
Cold burrows into my marrow. My self-preservation to seek out warmth has my feet inching toward a roaring fire in a grand room lavished with furniture and rugs. This place is huge, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. We live a minimal life with only the true essentials. Everything else is considered an indulgence, and that’s sinful. Apparently.
A graze scorching with pain to my knee makes me wince, the torn material of my dress rubbing against the broken skin. “Hello?” I call out, inching closer and closer to the roaring orange glow of the fire. Shadows dance down the walls as footfalls sound just outside the room I was deposited inside by the man who said he was security.
“Look what the tide washed in,” a deep rumble booms across the room.
My hand wraps around my waist to ease the nerves.
“This is private property. Do you want to tell me what it is you’re doing docking here?” The voice steps into the light, stealing my breath.
He looks like a man from the stories Clara used to tell me at night when I couldn’t sleep. Dark probing eyes seek me out, making a quiver of excitement and fear ripple through my body. Powerful arms fold across a broad chest covered in clothes I’m not used to: formal wear, a suit.