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“Haven’t you heard?” Her brow lifts. “Of course not. You’ve been cooped up in your castle all this time.” She sounds bitter. “People talk. They know I’m difficult. No man wants to make a woman like me his wife when she’s mouthy and won’t listen to rules.”
She shows me her hands, which are covered in bruises and red marks. Those are the same marks that I once had, the same pain I endured. That same agony is reflected in her eyes, and it ruins me.
Tears cascade down my cheeks. “April, I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t be. You weren’t there; you couldn’t have known. No one cares,” she says with a melancholic tone in her voice. “Tomorrow, I’ll be shipped off to another community.”
My pupils dilate. Another community? There are more? “What? Shipped off? No, no, they can’t do that.” I shake my head.
“They can, and they will,” she says, and she turns to face away from me. “Don’t bother caring. It’s too late for that.”
Before I can say another word, she opens the door and disappears through, shutting it behind her. I’m left frozen in place. Even though my feet are firmly planted into the grassy soil, I’m shaking so vigorously I can feel it in my bones.
The one person who understood what it meant to be taken, to be here in this community when you don’t belong here, to be used and claimed … hates me.
And now I won’t ever see her again.
Shipped off to another community.
I didn’t know that was possible or that there even were multiple communities. That this religion stretched out its branches further than this sole Family.
I should’ve known, I could have, if only I’d dared to ask. I was there in the library. I had the time, so I could’ve looked. All those books filled with information and never once did I try to find out more.
I’m selfish. I was addicted to the privileges that come with being a matriarch, the high that follows the lavish lifestyle, and I never once looked back to see how the ladies I shared a hut with were doing.
I should’ve gone to them sooner, should’ve tried to talk to them, should’ve … done so many things.
And now it’s too late.
With tears streaming down my face, I run off, right back into Noah’s arms.
“What happened?” he asks, running his fingers through my hair.
“They’re shipping her off to another community,” I say through gritted teeth, and I bury my head into his shirt. “I can’t protect her there. I can’t talk to her anymore. She’ll be gone tomorrow.”
“Oh … I’m sorry about your friend,” he says. “I didn’t know.”
“Why did no one ever tell me there were more than one of these communities?”
“Because it wasn’t important,” he replies. “You already belong here, with me.”
“You could’ve told me,” I say, leaning back and placing a finger on his chest. “Why didn’t you?”
“I just … it never came up,” he says, shrugging. “I’m sorry. If I knew what was about to happen to your friend, I would have told you, I promise.”
“So, you didn’t have any part in this?” I ask.
“No,” he says, looking at me with stern eyes. “I swear to you, I did not do this.”
“But who did?”
“The president has the capability to decide these things on his own merit. The other patriarchs usually need a consensus.”
I scowl. “So, my father did this?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I can ask, but it’d be risky.”
“Why would he do that? It makes no sense,” I reply, mulling it over.
“Maybe the people complained to him about her, and he was done with it,” he says.
I grimace. “But you’re a patriarch; you can stop this, right?”
He shakes his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Natalie. I don’t have that power.”
More tears well up in my eyes. “They can’t do this. They can’t take her away.”
“There’s nothing I can do at this point. Even if I did do something, I’m all alone because none of the other patriarchs would ever go against the president. Not for a girl.”
“She’s not just a girl!” I shout. “She was there, the first day, in that cell right alongside me.” I punch his chest in anger. “I should’ve protected her!”
My knees cave underneath me, and I sink to the ground, but Noah comes down along with me, holding me all the way through my pain.
“Punch me. Kick me. Hurt me,” he says. “It’s okay.”
“Why?” I say, punching him in the chest again. “Why are you letting me do this?”
“Because you need to, and I will accept that. Be angry … let it out. I can handle it.”
“Fuck!” I yell into his shirt, letting it all out.
He’s never said those words before, and it opens a wound inside me I didn’t know existed. Cuts into it deeply and forces me to rip out my own soul.
