Anointed

by Charity B.

  “Laurel Ann! Don’t do this! Laurel Ann!”

  The Fitch ranch is on the opposite side of the compound from my farm. I wish I would have picked up my shoes, but this decision wasn’t a thought out one. The rocks make running difficult, so I cut through the grass patches as they come. A sharp pain stabs my side, and I slow to catch my breath once I reach the common ground. I pass Henry Taub and Doc Kilmer who both give me questioning looks.

  The sun is tired in the horizon, and I know my father must be awake by now. The sight of my farmhouse is a comfort to my tattered soul. I pick up my dress, revealing torn stockings, and sprint up the dirt path. Hurrying across the yard, I climb onto the porch with desperate steps. I shove open the door, and crossing the threshold is a relief on my cut-up feet.

  My father is sitting at the table eating eggs and toast when he jumps from my entrance. His face flashes through shock before it settles on fury. He shoots to standing and barrels toward me, raising his hand but changing his mind mid-strike.

  “What are you doing here?!”

  I fall to his feet and grasp at his boots. “Please let me come home, Pa. I can’t be bound to the Prophet…please don’t make me go back.”

  My eye hurts worse when I cry, though it’s not my concern at present. I need him to understand.

  His fist clenches around the fabric at my shoulder, yanking me to my feet. “You are no daughter of mine!” He pushes me out the door, and I fall backward down the steps, sending more agony through my already aching body. “Get up.”

  I push myself to my knees, and he doesn’t wait any longer. He grabs me by the arm, dragging me to the side of the house where the horses are already hooked up to the buggy. I don’t wait for him to tell me to get inside. This was a mistake. I don’t have any idea what gave me the inclination that he would bring me back into the family.

  Imagining what the Prophet is going to do mixed with the bouncing of the buggy turns my insides, pushing them into my throat. I jump up to lean over the side, watching the sick hit the dirt behind us. Father turns and glares at me, saying nothing.

  He doesn’t even get the buggy stopped in front of the tabernacle when Hiram walks out.

  “Prophet, I cannot apologize enough—”

  The Prophet holds up his hand to stop him. “It is not your fault, Brother Benjamin.” He looks at me with repulsion. “She has made her choice.”

  Apostle Keaton walks out of the tabernacle. “What do you need from me, Prophet?”

  Hiram barks at me, “Get out of the buggy.” I scramble to obey. I don’t think anyone has ever had two cleansing rituals within a week before. “Take her to the holding room and meet me in my office.”

  Apostle Keaton nods. I step to follow him when the Prophet grabs my wrist, yanking off my binding bracelet. My father scoffs at me. I am nothing to him anymore. The Apostle marches me into the tabernacle and shuts me in the first holding room. This isn’t how it was done last time, which causes an uneasiness to creep into my pores.

  Excommunication has always been a fear for me, especially as a child, but I have never seen it happen to anyone. I think part of me didn’t believe they would ever really do it. Sitting here, I don’t doubt it anymore. I’m not receiving another cleansing. Zaaron forgave me, and I threw it back in His face.

  Oh, Zaaron, please don’t rebuke me. I’m sorry. Sorrier than I’ve ever been about anything.

  Plenty of time has passed, yet to me, it could have been moments. In this room I am safe, and I am in no hurry to change that. My ripped stockings stick to my bloody feet, so I peel them off, whimpering at the pain. The lock on the door clinks and the knob turns. My eyes slam shut, refusing to let the next few moments pass.

  “Remove your binding gown.”

  The Prophet speaks to me as if each word is beneath him. If I take off my dress I’ll be in nothing besides my bodice petticoat and bloomers. Of course, he knows that.

  I reach behind me, unfastening as many latches as I can before I push aside my humiliation and obey. Regardless of the warmth of the room, when the air hits the exposed skin of my arms, chills spread through my body.

  He rips the dress from my fingers, taking the rope tucked under his arm and tying it around my wrists, tight enough to jab into my skin. Yanking the door back open, he pulls me through the empty meeting hall. I’m tempted to fight him and not let him do this. I just know any attempt would be futile.

  The tabernacle doors open, and the exact same faces that were congratulating and complimenting me last night, are now snarling and glaring. They all hate me. It is written clear as glass all over their expressions. He leads me through the crowd spewing their repulsion at my actions.

  Something hits my stomach, and the smell twists in my nose. I look down to see a red, rotten tomato smeared across my white petticoat. The first becomes an invitation for more. My already weak body is pelted with old food. They are all yelling at me about the tortures awaiting me in Hell and in the outside world. The humiliation brings more tears than the pain. I hate that they can see my flesh and know my sins.

  They all follow us as he leads me to the main gate of the compound. He turns my body to face the crowd, and the first person my eyes find is my father. He’s steps in front of the angry followers to spit at my feet.

  Removing the blade from last night, the Prophet holds my bound hands and slices the knife across my right palm, making me gasp from the sting. He pushes his finger down into the cut, covering it in crimson as I cry out. He draws the X of excommunication on my forehead, marking me with blood. I hear Mia’s screams from the crowd. I look across the furious faces to see my mother holding her back as she reaches for me.

  Benji Johnson works his way to the front of the mob. His chest is heaving, and terror consumes his features. He’s obviously wishing he could speak to me. I haven’t gotten to see him since before his cleansing.

  My heart shatters to the dirt around my feet, and the consequences of my actions weigh heavy on my shoulders. Zebadiah’s not even here, he’s confined to the ranch. The knowledge that I will never see him again threatens the strength of my legs and hollows out my chest. Why did I do this?

  I’m so sorry…

  “Laurel Ann Henderson. You are hereby excommunicated from the Anointed Land.” Those words echo in my brain, consuming everything that comes after them. “Your soul has been overtaken by the Devil, and your sinful decisions have given him access into this compound. You will no longer be under the grace and protection of Zaaron. You are destined to walk this earth for the remainder of your days in the absence of His holy presence. You will not meet us at the Paradise Star, and you will never again feel peace. Your soul will forever be tormented.”

  The gates are opened, and as I step over the edge of the compound, my body is consumed in shivers. The desire to drop to my knees and plead is overbearing, but it’s already done. It would do nothing more than add to my mortification.

  The field in front of me stretches on for miles. I turn back to the only place I have ever known, watching the people who used to be my world walk away from me. I stare at them until they disappear, and I’m truly alone.

  Blackbirds fly across a bright, blue sky unaware of my world shattering. I don’t know where to go, and there is no way to avoid the Philistines. This is their world. My feet move me forward, and I let them. It doesn’t matter where they take me.

  It won’t be home.

  The edge of the field is cut off by a tree line, so I follow it until I reach a road. Open land and fields spread around me in every direction. My heart stabs in my chest, and I don’t know if it’s from panic or heartbreak. I’m nothing now. I turned from my God, losing everything as a result. Even if the heathens accept me, I won’t accept them. I won’t allow them to darken my soul any more than it already is. I would rather be by myself for the rest of my life.

  Other than the occasional house in the distance, there’s nothing around. I no sooner think how lucky I am that I haven’t seen a Philistine when I he
ar a noisy rumble. It gets louder with every second that passes. I whip my head around for someplace to hide, but there is nothing besides emptiness. It’s right behind me, and though my mind begs me not to, I turn around. It starts as a black dot that gets larger at a terrifying speed. A cloud of dirt trails behind it, and no matter how fast I run, it will be on me before I even get a few yards. I still have to try.

  My tied wrists inhibit me more than I anticipated. Rocks jab into my feet, and my leg gives way, causing me to fall. The sound begins to slow until a metal machine that resembles a horse on two rubber wheels, pops and spurts to a stop right next to where I lie. A black boot attached to what is certainly a Philistine, lands in the dirt next to my bound hands. My heartbeat is so quick and loud I can’t make out what he says. Lifting up my hands, I block the sun blinding my vision. The man is in all black, apart from the silver metal he’s wearing. His dark hair is pulled back, and his beard is the longest I’ve ever seen.

  Crouching down in front of me, he smiles. “You okay, little lady? Where ya headin’?”

  He reaches out to me, and I snap my hand back. There is no way he’s getting his filthy hands on me. “Don’t touch me. You’re a bad man.”

  His laugh shakes his whole body, and I slowly try to scoot away. “That I am. Lucky for you though, not to little girls who look like they’ve had it rough enough already. Why don’t you get on the bike, and I’ll untie your hands and take you to a police station, okay?”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

  He reaches for me again, so I use all my strength to kick his knee with my heel.

  “Ah! Shit, girl, I’m trying to help you!”

  I crawl backward as his fingers grasp at my petticoat. I don’t look to see if he’s chasing me when I flip onto my knees and push to my feet. My speed picks up once I step upon the field, but I know I can’t outrun him.

  If you are still listening, please don’t let him hurt me.

  The roar of the man’s machine brings me to a stop. I look over my shoulder to watch him zoom away.

  I’m okay. I’m safe.

  Thank you, Zaaron.

  As my heart rate slows, the fear dissipates, and momentary relief takes over. Is this how it’s going to be now? Every minute of every day running and hiding from the evil covering this place? Will terror replace the love and happiness I once felt? The shame, regret, and fear tie together in a knot to climb up my throat. The tears pour out like rain as I fall to the ground and weep.

  I allow myself a few moments to mourn the loss of everything I have ever known because I need every bit of strength that remains to survive here.

  Body and soul.

  I tug and pull on my bindings. For once I’m grateful that I’m sweating when my hand slips free of the rope. Breathing out a relieved sigh, I release my other wrist. Finally, I stand, brush off the debris, and continue my journey to nowhere. I make it back to the road where I’m left to the peace of being alone.

  My feet hurt, my legs ache, I’m hungry, I’m drenched in sweat, and I think I might dehydrate soon if I don’t get some water. The knowledge that I have no bed to lay my head on tonight brings the nausea back.

  Beep-boop. Beep-boop.

  My skin jumps from my bones at the intrusive sound. There are voices that sound small, like they’re trapped. I turn to see blue and red lights flashing around in a circle on top of a white metal box on wheels. A man in black pants, shirt, and hat is walking toward me with one hand on his hip and the other outstretched. There are more beeps and voices, but I don’t see anyone else around.

  I move my feet, running before I even turn around.

  “Stop!”

  His footsteps are close, urging me to run faster. It’s pointless though because his hands wrap around my shoulders.

  “Don’t touch me!” I try to break from his grasp, my strength nonexistent in comparison. I kick and scream, and although his palms are slippery with sweat, he’s still able to hang on.

  “Ma’am! You’re bleeding! Stop! I am here to assist you. I’m just going to take you to the station.”

  “Assist me by leaving me alone!” I stomp on his feet and elbow him in the stomach. He grunts and struggles, yet I still remain in his clutches.

  “This is your last warning. Stop moving. I don’t want to cuff you, but I will.” His arm wraps around me, passing by my face, so I clamp my teeth down onto his wrist, biting with all my strength.

  “Fugh! Damn it!”

  He rips his arm from my mouth as he bends my own behind my back. Something hard digs into my wrists, and I can’t separate them.

  “What did you do to me?!”

  I haven’t been out of the compound a day, and I’ve already been captured. I try not to think of the terrifying things that await me once I arrive at ‘the station’.

  “What did I do to you?! You broke skin, you little delinquent. You’ll be lucky if I don’t press charges.”

  He pushes me in the back of the metal box which has Kiowa County Sheriff written on the side, and slams the door next to me. This must be some type of buggy because when he sits in the seat in front of me and it shakes to life, we begin to move forward. I don’t know how because there aren’t any horses to pull us. Within moments, the fields are passing by me in a blur. I don’t like the way this is making my body feel. I bet this is some kind of Philistine trick.

  “Where are you from?” I’m sure he would love to know that. I don’t answer him. He may be able to force me to go to ‘the station’, but he can’t make me talk to him. While there’s a gate separating us, I can still see his shoulders lift with his sigh. “Do you come from that weird cult place a ways back?” I keep my lips closed and glare at him in the tiny mirror above his head. “It’s just your clothes. They’re…different. ‘Vintage’ as my stepdaughter would say.” I don’t know half of the things he speaks of. He huffs, “If you don’t tell me where you’re from, how am I supposed to get you home?” For some reason, in his twisted heathen brain, he thinks my silence is an invitation to keep asking questions. “What’s your name?”

  The fields have dispersed, replaced with homes and buildings. The metal buggies are everywhere now.

  We stop at a red flashing light, and he turns in his seat so I can see his face. “Will you at least tell me where you were going?”

  His questions scrape over the already raw reminder of my predicament. I hate this man. I hate him for abducting me. I hate him simply for what he is: an evil, dirty sinner.

  “Your soul is a heap of bile. It makes me sick. I’m not telling you anything.”

  His head snaps back before turning around to resume driving. “Fine. Then I have no choice other than to call social services.”

  We aren’t allowed to know hardly anything about the outside world. It is forbidden, and that was just fine with me until now. I don’t know what he’s talking about, and it could mean anything.

  “Are they going to hurt me?”

  “What? No.” He shakes his head, and the strange buggy slows down until it completely stops. The rumbling quiets, leaving us sitting in silence. “They’ll take you to the children’s home in Tipton until a foster family becomes available. Unless you want to start talking?”

  Children’s home? That doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe Philistine children are not yet as corrupt as their adult counterparts. Why am I acting like I have a choice? This is where I will live and die. Alone. I am no longer protected by Zaaron. However, I still know the truth. I will keep my soul pure. I will not allow these heathens to tarnish it. I will live as holy of a life as possible outside the gates of the compound, and maybe when I die, I will still make it to the Paradise Star. I know the prophecy states that those cast out of the Anointed Land are destined to forever starve for the presence of Zaaron, but I have to try. I have to.

  Please, let me show you how I yearn to be Anointed once again.

  I’M STUNNED IMMOBILE. THE WAY she’s speaking terrifies me, yet her taste is all I can think of. Her lip
s are touching mine for the first time. I have thought of kissing her so many times, I just knew it wasn’t fair to push that sin on her. I didn’t want her angry with me. Now, I wish I would have risked it.

  Her lips pull away, and she whispers, “Goodbye, Zeb.”

  My heart freefalls to my stomach as she spins around to leave. She can’t do this. He’ll make her pay, and it will be ruthless. I rush to follow her. She just needs to calm down.

  “Look, I know you’re scared, and I’m sure he put you through a lot of pain, but if you obey him, he can be bearable. Please listen. If you leave, things will be worse.” I rush out my words while she ignores my attempts to make her see reason. She can’t understand the extent of the damage she’s about to cause. Pushing open the door, she runs from the house, the fear of how he’ll react turning my stomach sour. “Laurel Ann! Don’t do this! Laurel Ann!” She’s already reached the edge of the yard. For a split second, I consider breaking my time of questioning to chase after her, but she’s clearly made up her mind. Angering him more would only make this harder for the both of us. I can’t believe she’s doing this. I slam my hand against the door frame.

  “Fuck!”

  The collar of my shirt constricts around my neck as I’m flung around and shoved against the wall. My father stands in front of me, seething. Shirtless and barefoot, he wears only his trousers. The back of his hand lands hard against my cheek.

  “Do not speak that way in this holy house!” He glances over my shoulder, out the open door. “Where is she?”

  I swallow any words I may have had. I want to knock him to the ground, hit him over and over, turning his face into nothing but bloody features. I hate him for taking Laurel Ann as his wife, I hate him for laying with her, and I hate him for hurting her. I reach out to shove him.

  “She went anywhere she could to get away from you!” I scream at him, clenching my fists so I don’t hit him again.

  Wrapping his hand around my neck, he squeezes tight and slams my head against the doorframe. “WHERE IS SHE?!” he roars in my face.