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“Take them to the angel, these ones to the pens, and her,” he jabbed a finger furiously in my direction, “put that psychotic bitch back in her cage!”
His orders were followed with no rebuttal. Rough hands grabbed at me before I could fully rise, two guerrillas on each side. Not given a chance to get my bearings, I was dragged from the room with my legs kicking out to find a foothold.
There was no doubt about it now, I would surely be punished again. They’d make me hurt so much more than I already did—physically—but they’d never dare kill me. I was too important to the Cardinal’s cause.
His Exarchs preached that I was divine purity, the answer to all the covenants’ prayers. They needed me. Their key to happiness rested at my unwilling feet. Fucking cowards.
Dasia and Emily were paraded through the asylum in front of me.
We went past all the open doors where more than a few terrified and broken-hearted girls remained.
Some had known what tonight would bring while others were left in a state of confusion, any illusions they had about A.R.C from when they first arrived had just gotten shattered by the ugly truth of their new reality. I’d been in their shoes once.
Behind me, Claire and Marcy were forced down the same barren, depleted hall. Large double doors were thrown open, and out into the night we went. The instant we crossed over the threshold it was as if the air skimmed directly over my pain receptors.
I became acutely aware of the throbbing in my nose. And the blood. There was so much blood. I tasted it on my tongue and felt it racing in parallels down my back.
My arms ached, stiff from being tied in the shape of a T just hours ago. My feet too, now skidding over asphalt.
No one paid our envoy much attention, but that wasn’t anythin
g out of the norm. The majority of the guerrillas didn’t give a damn about our wellbeing. They were only here to protect the Exarchs and keep us obediently in line.
Occasionally they put their cocks in places they didn’t belong, tainting what was meant to remain ‘pure.’ Their careless actions had led to many girls being buried alive for committing such a vile act.
Off in the far distance, the lights of Cathedral A.R.C glowed like a beacon for anyone who might happen upon it if lost or wandering in the middle of the night. It was a symbol of false hope if there ever was one.
Those seeking shelter would come for safety and find themselves sacrificed or coerced for the covenant’s greater good.
My cage, which was nothing more than an old gazebo affixed with bars and a gate to keep me locked inside, began to take shape. Once we reached it, I was tossed in without a backward glance. My knees and palms smacked against straw covered wood with a loud thwack.
The rounded pens behind the gazebo rattled as Marcy and Claire were shoved inside in the same fashion. Their discipline would be decided by the Cardinal when he learned of their offenses. After it was doled out, they would be allowed to return to our room.
My punishment would always lead back to this. This damned unholy cage.
I spent so much time locked away that there was now a bucket for me to defecate in and a burlap blanket to cover up with when the Badlands’ temperature dropped.
I used my wrist to rid my face of blood and then tentatively touched my nose. I was relieved to find it wasn’t broken, just hurt like hell. Pushing to my feet, I turned and walked slowly to the gate. I knew the automatic lock was already in place; my intention was solely to see the procession being led to the weeping angel a few yards away.
Her weathered wings were stretched skyward and both hands covered her face. A charred cross was at her back, serving as a torch for every consecrated cleansing and ceremony that took place. Much like the one just seconds away from happensing.
It’d been burned so many times I couldn’t believe it was still standing.
“Kneel!” Hendrix’s brash voice carried across the yard. At his command, four women, two of them being Emily and Dasia, and two men knelt on the ground, shoulder to shoulder and heads bowed just as they’d been taught to do in our lessons.
Then, as if he’d received a silent cue, from behind the angel came a disciple.
I knew within his hands would be a bible written in the Cardinal’s self-fulfilling dialect. When he began to speak, his voice was loud enough for me to hear every absurd accusation bestowed upon each of those chosen for cleansing.
He said they were tainted with ill fortune. Proclaimed they were forsaken by God.
These same words were used to describe me behind closed doors. It was pure bullshit.
All. Of. It.
None of the people kneeling respectfully at his feet had done anything that would warrant them being accused of these unjust infractions. Dasia’s only fault wasn’t a fault at all. She had turned twenty-one the day after her selection.
That made her a full year older than most of the others still at the asylum. Emily’s was simply not being desirable enough in the four-month period in which men had come to look the available girls over.
