Paradise Abductions

by Mia Rodriguez

  Chapter 12

  Several Elders rush to Highest Holy Bledsoe to help him up. The congregation watches with stunned expressions. Nothing like this has ever happened. Usually the girls die without saying or doing anything.

  Highest Holy Bledsoe stumbles over to the pulpit with an obvious limp. The fall did him some damage. I'm glad! If it's such an honor to commit suicide for the Great Master then why don't our jailers do it? Why don't they volunteer to get murdered? Rancor rips through me with sharp teeth.

  "Followers of the great truth," he tells us, gasping for air because of the pain he seems to be feeling, "of the one True Faith, don't take what Beatrix said into account. She's been delirious since her hospital stay."

  I glare at him.

  "The evil creature must've taken over her!" he insists. "We must pray for her. Maybe the Great Master will take pity on her and snatch her away from his hooves!"

  We're made to kneel down to pray for Beatrix's soul. I pray that she is in a place full of happiness and peace. Tears rush down my face, and I discreetly rub them away with the palm of my hand.

  Highest Holy Bledsoe starts yelling in his strongest voice, "May the Great Master protects us. Evil creature, keep away from us! Keep away!"

  It seems to me that the evil creature is him. As children, the Elders make sure we're terrified of the evil creature that according to them can snatch us away if we aren't submissive and compliant. If that was the case, the evil creature would've seized me a long time ago since my thoughts are constantly rebellious.

  When the wretched ceremony is finally over, we're ordered to return to our chores as if nothing just happened. The Elders do it every time after this type of a murder. I suspect they want to normalize it, to get us accustomed to the idea that that's our destiny in this place.

  I'm told to go to the Smythee household to help Jana with the sanctification of it. That means to get rid of any trace of Beatrix. This is what the Elders make us do. They force us to forget each other by getting rid of anything personal that belonged to us and never allowing the deceased person's name to ever be spoken again.

  Beatrix's name is never to be uttered again. In fact, once names are given, they only belong to that person. They can't be given again.

  So Beatrix and her name are retired forever.

  Jana and I quietly walk to the Smythee house. Words are stuck in our throats. After all, it had been the both of us and Master Smythee who had nursed Beatrix back to life when she was at death's door. Then the Elders had shoved her across the frame in one evil swoop.

  I'm hoping Master Smythee is at home. Maybe they gave him a tranquilizer and he's unconscious. I'm grateful that he hadn't had to see someone he loved so much put to death.

  A soft keening noise comes to my ears. It's Jana. She's starting to shake uncontrollably and tears jump out of her eyes. I quickly look around us. Luckily, we're hidden from the street since we're at a tree and no one but me is witnessing her breakdown. Still, we don't have a lot of time before someone passes by since this is a very busy path. I want to hug her but instead I take her by the shoulders and gently shake her.

  "I know what we saw was horrible and it hurts our hearts, but you've got to get yourself together," I plead with her.

  If the Elders saw her like this, she would be in the isolation room for days. Breakdowns are prohibited. We can only show emotion when they allow it. In other words, it's okay to cry with happiness in our weddings, but it's not okay to show emotion when we're upset. In fact, we're never supposed to be upset unless they permit it.

  "Please, Jana," I whisper urgently, "I don't want them to hurt you."

  This seems to do the trick because a resolute stance takes over her features, and she brushes her tears away. I give her the best smile I can. It's a hollow one, but it's all I can manage.

  "What are you doing standing here?" snaps High Holy Grinder as he roams the streets to make sure we go straight to our chores. It's usually Highest Holy Bledsoe who does this, but I imagine that he's in the doctor's office. "What are you doing lazing around instead of getting back to work?!"

  Jana stares at him with absolute fear on her grief stricken face.

  "We felt the chill of the evil creature and stopped to pray," I explain, making my voice sound as convincing as possible.

  "You're not supposed to stop in the middle of the road to pray!"

  "We were worried about Highest Holy Bledsoe, about what the evil creature did to him today. We felt compelled to stop and pray."

  "You were praying for our great leader?" he asks, his tone much less brusque.

  "Yes, of course."

  "Well, I can't punish you for caring about our magnificent guide here on earth. Next time, though, wait until your night prayers to pray for him."

  "Yes, your holiness."

  "Now, shove off!"

  He doesn't have to tell us twice. Jana and I rush forward without looking back. Once we are a safe distance away from High Holy Grinder, Jana turns to me.

  "Thank you," she says in a barely audible voice.

  "You're welcome," I whisper back.

  My hopes of seeing Master Smythee are dashed as soon as we step into the household. Betsey's sourly and scowling face is waiting for us.

  "What took you so long to get here?" she growls.

  "We were talking to High Holy Grinder," I state.

  "About what?" she asks suspiciously.

  "About praying for Highest Holy Bledsoe. He took a terrible fall and--"

  "Stop your chattering," she snaps, "You two have a lot of work to do. You'd better get started! And you'd better understand that you'll be taking your orders from me from now on! The Elders told me to take over!"

  "Where's Master Smythee?" I ask, knowing that my questioning will infuriate her but I have to ask.

  Her eyes ignite with fire. "That's none of your business!"

  "Is he okay?" Jana asks with a small, scared voice.

  "No, your destiny-husband is not okay!" retorts Betsey. As if she's said too much, she quickly inhales some air. "He's not here so you two better stop asking questions and start doing what I tell you to do," she hisses.

  I decide not to push my luck. "Where do we start?" I ask her.

  The grin she gives me is one of drunken power. "Start with the bedroom of the-one-who-is no-longer-here."

  So soon after her death Beatrix's name is already being thrown away.

  "Make sure everything of hers is cleared out," she demands with a certain relish and cheerfulness in her tone. "I'll be inspecting," she warns.

  Jana and I move towards her bedroom with slow, sluggish steps. Once we arrive the awful dread we feel is replaced with overwhelming emotion at seeing Beatrix's form still on her sheets and her clothes strewn about. Suddenly, I can't stay on my feet and I plop to the bed in a wave of blistering feelings. Hot, giant tears start rushing down my face.

  Jana sits next to me, her eyes pools of moist water. "Monica, please stop," she begs me, her voice cracking. It's her turn to help me get myself together. "You're the strongest one of us. If you fall apart then what chance do the rest of us have?"

  "I'm not that strong."

  "Oh yes you are. We look up to you, Monica."

  "You shouldn't"

  "But we do. Please stop crying because I'll follow your lead and once everything comes out, I won't be able to stop," she says, sniffling.

  I nod, take a deep breath, and wipe the tears away with a tissue from a box next to the bed. The tissue box had been for Beatrix, and I stop myself from going further into that thought.

  As quickly and as efficiently as possible Jana and I subdue the turmoil inside of us and put all of Beatrix's belongings in boxes. We even get rid of her towels, sheets, and bedspread. The husband is supposed to burn the things in a private Letting go ceremony.

  Where can Master Smythee be?

  I try not to worry about him.

&n
bsp; Betsey comes in several times to snarl at us and tell us what she thinks we're doing wrong. She's really drunk with power. We do what she tells us just to avoid problems. Finally, when we're done she orders me out of the house and for Jana to clean the rest of the rooms.

  "I can stay and help," I say.

  "I don't want you here," Betsey snaps, her eyes blazing at me. I now know that what I suspected is true. She hates me. Join the club, I feel like telling her. "Leave," she demands.

  I give Jana a compassionate look, say good-bye, and head to the door. Once I'm out I feel a certain relief but as I'm walking towards the slave quarters, the turmoil that I had squelched springs up. It takes an iron will to prevent myself from crying but somehow I manage it. What I can't control are the scenes from the awful day popping up in my brain fast and furious.

  "She's dead, isn't she? Won't someone tell me please," a voice begs.

  Startled, I turn towards that voice and find it belongs to someone in the isolation room. I had taken the long way to the slave quarters and am passing by it. I think I recognize the voice.

  "Master Smythee?" I ask, surprise in my tone.