I notice only now that I'm cradled in someone's arms. Quentin. His gaze is soft as he looks down at me. All of them are watching me cautiously, as if they're scared that I might do something crazy again.
"I'm okay now," I tell them. "I fought him."
Andrew clears his throat. "Fought who?"
"Andros. He tried to break me, and I fought and won. I got away and left him."
"It was just a dream, right?" Leek says slowly, as if to make sure that I haven't gone completely bananas. "You know that?"
I smile. "Believe me, it was so much more than that. But why am I on the floor?"
Quentin grimaces. "You screamed and I came to see what was wrong. You were flailing in bed and I was worried you might hurt yourself, so I tried to hold you still... Well, you pushed me back, I fell and dragged you with me."
"It looked quite hilarious, now that I know you're safe," Andrew says with a chuckle. "You toppling Quentin. He's usually pretty good in a fight."
I roll to one side and groan as pain tells me that it's not a good idea.
"You may have hurt yourself falling. Where is the pain?" Andrew's expression has changed to that of the doctor, all business, but there's concern in his eyes.
"I'm fine, just some bruises. Nothing I can't handle," I mutter. "Help me up?"
"Sure?" Andrew is locking his eyes with mine, examining me closely.
"Yes, yes, everything's fine."
Quentin gently shifts his position behind me and pushes me up, out of his lap. He steadies me until I can sit by myself, without my head spinning too much.
"Do you want to go back to bed?" he asks but I immediately shake my head. No, I don't think I want to face any more dreams just now. I'm quite happy to be awake and deal with reality.
“No, I need to think. But I also don’t want to be alone right now.”
“We’ll stay,” Andrew says immediately. “Unless you only want one of us?”
I smile at him. His warmth is just what I need. It feels greedy and selfish, but I can’t help but whisper, “All of you.”
“Let’s make you more comfortable first,” Quentin says from behind me. “Want to go back on the bed? Not to sleep, just so you can sit a little better than on the floor?”
I nod. He wraps his arms around me and picks me up, depositing me on the bed before sitting down beside me. He touched me, he carried me, but for some reason, I don’t mind. I actually liked it.
“Could I have some paper and a pen?” I ask, having an idea all of a sudden. Leek disappears from the room and comes back a moment later, carrying a large scrapbook and a handful of pens.
“That was the first I could find,” he shrugs as I inspect the assortment of pens. They’re all sorts of colours, but not a single black, normal one.
Andrew sits down on my other side, and Leek takes a seat on the other bed. I shouldn’t be happy that all three of them are here with me, but they give me strength, make me feel safe. How quickly things have changed.
I open the scrapbook and write my name in the middle of the page and surround it with a circle. Me, the centre of it all. Above me, in a far bigger circle, I place the Angel, and between him and me, I write Andros’s name. My hand shakes a little when I do that. No, remember, you’re not scared of him anymore. You know him for what he is. A liar. Your enemy.
I notice how quiet the room has become and look up. They’re all watching me. I grimace and wiggle further back until I’m leaning against the wall. Hopefully, they won’t be able to see what I’m drawing now. Quentin’s eyes are following my every move and there’s a twitch to his lips that looks like he wants to say something.
“It’s private,” I tell them before he gets the chance.
“We’re not looking,” Andrew promises, “But could I have some paper as well?”
I shrug and rip out a page for him. He turns until he faces me, then begins to draw, using a book he’s picked up from under the bed as a table. He purposely turns the paper so I can’t see what he’s doing, but I guess that’s exactly what I’m doing as well.
I continue my work and add the men’s names towards the bottom of the sheet, and below them, Mrs M and SOCA. Now I’ve got all the main players. I’m not even sure why I’m doing this, but it feels important. My head is so full of emotions, images, worries, that I need to let them out somehow.
I take a green pen – green, the colour of hope – and start scribbling random words around the circled names. What I feel about them. What I’m scared of. What might happen if I let them close.
Putting it all on paper gives my mind space to think. I quickly draw some lines connecting some of the words. Yes. It’s beginning to make sense. I open a new page and write the Angel’s prayer in the centre.
Discipline leads to redemption.
Suffering brings peace.
Obedience inspires happiness.
Pain is salvation.
The Angel is our shield and our refuge.
It’s so familiar and yet, it’s started to feel strange. Andros has used this prayer to turn us into his slaves. He’s taken something beautiful and changed it into something evil.
I take a red pen and scratch out most of the words.
Discipline leads to redemption.
Suffering brings peace.
Obedience inspires happiness.
Pain is salvation.
The Angel is our shield and our refuge.
Yes, that’s better. That’s the essence of my belief in the Angel. I don’t believe he wants us to suffer. No, I believe that he wants to deliver us from suffering. Not just in Paradise, but here on Earth. Redemption, peace, happiness, salvation.
I smile at the thought of how a few changes have turned it into something positive.
One last thing to do. I scribble down the rules of the community. The ones that I’ve been following for years. Clothing, demeanour, gender separation, schedules, food. There are so many rules that I only have space to write the most important ones. The more I note down, the tenser I feel. I’ve been constricted by them for so long that they feel like family. Not the good kind of family though. I want to free myself from them, but it’s not easy to leave your family behind. I’ll have to do it step by step, and I will need help. I see that now. I can’t do it all on my own.
I mark a few of the rules with coloured dashes, then look up. Quentin and Leek are still watching me, but Andrew is busy drawing something. He lifts his gaze from the paper. There’s a slight sheen of red spreading across his cheeks. Is he embarrassed?
“Show us,” Leek demands and gets up from his bed, as if he’s about to take the drawing by force, if necessary.
“It’s private,” the doctor protests, but Leek snaps the paper out of his hand.
“Laya is allowed privacy. You aren’t.” He steps back and looks at the drawing, his eyes widening. “Oh.”
“Give it back!” Andrew complains, but he’s smiling.
“Leek,” Quentin commands playfully. “My turn.”
With a grin, Leek turns the paper over, and because I’m sitting next to Quentin, I finally get to see it. It’s me. Not Laya, the Prophet’s Princess, but me, how I’d like to be. Confident and strong and sane. It’s only a rough sketch, but the detail is amazing. My eyes are lively and my cheeks are a healthy colour, not as gaunt as they are now. My lips are curved in a gentle smile which almost makes me want to smile back. He’s only drawn the face and neck so far, not the hair. Is he going to keep my scalp bald, or is he going to add hair, like there used to be?
“Can I?” Andrew asks sharply and pulls the drawing out of Quentin’s hand. “It’s not finished.”
He takes another pen and continues his work, while I’m left confused. And maybe a little flattered.
“Laya?” Quentin’s voice is gentle and so warm that it reaches all the way into my heart.
“Yes?”
“You looked a little spaced out for a moment. Everything alright?”
“Yes.” I take a deep breath and look ba
ck at all the notes I’ve made. “I'd like to have a chat with all of you. Not here though.”
They look at me curiously, but nobody protests. Andrew puts away his drawing and helps me back into the wheelchair. Together, we head to the living room. I'd intended to stay in the chair, but Leek lifts me up and deposits me on one of the soft sofas. He even puts a blanket around me and sits down on the sofa next to me. I feel teary when I consider how gentle he is with me. This large man who could probably squash my skull with one hand, is covering me with a blanket, as if I'm too frail to do it myself. Well, maybe I am.
They look at me expectantly. I take a deep breath. This isn't going to be easy.
"This might be a little weird," I begin, "but I have a few things I want to say. Can you promise not to interrupt? I don't know if I'll be able to finish otherwise."
"Of course," Quentin says with a reassuring smile. "We're listening."
I nod and gather my thoughts. So much to say, my brain is a little overwhelmed. "First of all, I'd like to testify against Andros. I'm sorry I didn't say so from the beginning, but it's taken me a while to figure things out."
Leek's expression lights up and I suppress a smile.
"Next, I would like your help to... become more normal again. I don't want to let go of my principles or of my beliefs, but I don't want to feel like an alien on a different planet. I need to get used to interacting with normal people. If you touch me, I don't want to feel as if you're about to hurt me. I want to sit next to one of you without feeling horrible about it because you're men and I'm a woman. I want to wear something colourful. I want to shower every day and I want you to stop me if I ask for permission for it. And I want you to try and remove the metal from my ankle, even if that means you'll have to amputate my foot. I want it gone."
I go over my mental list. I'm sure I've forgotten half of what I was aiming to say. "Basically, I want to be like I used to be, except that I'll be different as well. I learned a lot and I found something to believe in, even if some of it was wrong. I don't want to erase all my bad memories, but I want to learn to live with them, and learn from them. Does that make sense at all?"
So far, they've been quiet, listening intently, but now they all start speaking at the same time. All the confidence I felt moments ago drains from me and I pull my legs to my chest, making myself small.
"Do you want a hug?" Leek whispers, his breath touching my cheek. Do I? Everything inside of me is screaming for warmth and comfort, but am I ready for this? Will I be able to stand his touch without wanting to push him way?
"Yes. I would like a hug.”
Epilogue
Two months later.
I lift Leek's arm from my chest and slip out of bed. He's still fast asleep, and I know better than to wake him. He's very grumpy in the mornings, at least until he's either had some tea or something to eat. Preferably both.
I walk to the bathroom and take a long shower. At the beginning, I hurried to wash myself, but now, it's become an indulgence. Part of the healing process, Quentin says. I'm going against some of the old rules, but not in a destructive way. I wash my hair and breathe in the sweet coconut scent of the shampoo. I'm letting my hair grow, although I'm planning to keep it quite short. I don't want to be vain; all I want is to blend in, and I can't do that with a shorn head. Again, another compromise. I'm getting quite good at them. I've progressed to wearing more colourful clothes, although I'm still keeping them modest. I won't be showing my cleavage any time soon. And why should I? It's my body and I get to decide who sees it. For now, that's only me and three other people. In moderation.
Someone knocks at the door. "Do you need much longer?"
"Yes!" I shout back with a grin. There's a second bathroom, so it's not like Quentin is going to have to pee into a bucket. The shower in this one is much better though, so it's everybody's favourite.
We're in a new safe house, a more permanent one this time. Leek was a little sad that the kitchen was smaller, but at least he finds the hob easier to use. He's started taking cookery classes, which has the added side effect of us getting to try out some rather exotic dishes. Nothing compared to the meagre and bland food I got back at the compound. I've gained some weight, although Andrew tells me it's still not enough. I try and eat more, but I've also taken up self-defence classes with Quentin, which burn quite a lot of calories. Leek keeps me supplied with brownies though, and once he's taken me to Mrs M's cafe to try her hot chocolate. She wasn't lying when she said that it was the best in Scotland.
I step out of the shower and wrap my head in a towel. There's a mirror, but I ignore it. That's one thing I still have to learn how to do. Look at my body and recognise myself. At the moment, I see a stranger and that's frightening, more than I want to admit.
I slip into a fluffy bathrobe and matching slippers, and leave the bathroom on the hunt for Andrew. He should be up by now; he's always the first.
I find him in the office, staring at a spreadsheet on the computer. "Are you here to rescue me?"
He sighs and turns around to greet me. He looks tired, but I know he's working on a case that's keeping him up at night. Their main job is still to look after me, but occasionally, Andrew and Quentin get sent case studies to analyse or requests for advice. I've learned not to ask them about details, they're not allowed to tell me anyway.
"Can you do my back?" I ask and hand him a tube of cream. He nods and points to the other office chair in the room. I sit on it the wrong way round so that my chest is against the chair's mesh back. Taking a deep breath, I slide my bathrobe down to give him a full view of my back. I'm always tempted to cover up again and run as soon as I do this, but it's necessary. The scars on my back get itchy if I don't keep them moisturised, and I can't bear to touch them myself. Andrew is the only one allowed to do this, because I can imagine him doing this in his doctor role rather than his friend persona.
"Ready?" he asks calmly and I nod, pressing my teeth together in anticipation of the memories that instantly flood my mind as soon as his fingers touch my back. They're not too bad today, mainly the sensation of Andros's whip, but nothing else. Not his voice, which is a relief. A week ago, I started crying when I heard the Prophet speak and it took Andrew half an hour to calm me down. I don't want to be weak, but I know that I'm allowed to be. The three men keep me safe and give me the space I need to recover. I can't believe how lucky I am to have them.
"My husband once told me how humans can only be lucky when they're in Paradise," I tell Andrew randomly, but immediately correct myself. "Sorry, I mean Andros."
It was a shock to find out that the marriage wasn't actually official. I'd signed something on our wedding day, but nobody at the council was ever notified, so the marriage is null and void. It saves me from having to file for a divorce.
Andros's trial won't be for months, but I've started to give official statements, mostly to my men, sometimes to other police officers. Did I just call them my men? Well, I guess they are. My three protectors, friends, confidants. Partners. Maybe more. They've not only saved me from hell, but also from myself.
"Why do you say that?" Andrew asks with a chuckle. He's used to me saying random things, especially when he does my back. Sometimes, the words burst out of me and I need to say them before they start to hurt. Luckily, he and the others are always willing to listen, even if it's with bemusement at the randomness.
"I just thought how lucky I am to have you," I mutter, a little embarrassed.
He lifts the bathrobe and wraps it around my shoulders again. "And we're lucky to have you. Now, are you brave enough to wake Leek? I'm getting hungry."
I laugh and get off the chair, turning around to look at him. "Thank you."
I leave before he can say anything else. They keep telling me how they want me here, how I'm not a burden in the slightest, and how I'm definitely not just a job. I wish I could show them that I want to be more. They know, but I feel like it needs proof. Hugs are as far as I can go though, and even those not every da
y. To be honest, I don't know if I'll ever be able to be with them physically. I tried kissing Leek one day, but had to stop. The images and feelings assaulting me were too much. They understand though. We're a family. Our bond is strong, we don't need the physical bit. I mean, who cares about sex when you can have love?
Not sure that's the right word. We're still fumbling in the dark, trying to define a relationship that's stranger than anything I've ever done before. Three men and me. Brought together by tragedy, but bound by the will to survive.
I head back to the bedroom, where Leek is still snoring softly. I smile to myself and quickly get dressed, taking some random clothes from the wardrobe. I don't really care about what I look like. It needs to be warm and comfortable, that's all that matters to me. Autumn has arrived and the air has turned cooler.
Before I wake Leek, I kneel in front of the small Angel statue in the corner. I no longer say the mantras we were taught. I no longer believe that suffering brings peace. Strangely enough, the absence of suffering right now is bringing me a lot more peace than I ever got while living in the village. The cult. That word is still strange on my tongue. I try and use it, because everyone else does, but it feels wrong. I don't want to say that I was in a cult. Only pliable, weak people join cults, not an educated woman like me. It's humiliating to think of how I was manipulated into being someone so different from who I really am. In retrospective, it's easy to point fingers and see exactly where things went wrong, but life doesn't work that way. Some days, I see things clearly, other days, I need a bit of help with that.
May this be a good day, I ask the Angel. May I be a good person. May the sun shine upon this world. May my men stay safe. May the whole world be at peace.
My prayer has changed a lot. I don't confess sins, I don't ask for punishment. I focus on the positive things in life and hope that the Angel's light will guide me to be a better person. That's what it's all about.
"Good morning," Leek yawns.
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