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Here in the compound, she’s learned so many good skills and qualities that a woman should have. The sorts of things women in the outside world have lost over time: cooking, sewing, caring for children. Most of all, our women understand their place in the hierarchy of a family. They understand their role as willing, pliant helpmeets to their men.
And I admit, I am aware that her lack of presence in the outside world is another asset to them. I’m sure Dustin is well-aware that Angel has no birth certificate, no Social Security card. Her mother had her somewhere outside a hospital and couldn’t be bothered to get those documents for her.
As far as the outside world is concerned, Angel doesn’t even exist. She’s a free spirit, totally outside the realm of men.
I can’t help but think of Rose, the last woman who left in Dustin’s care. She wasn’t like Angel — pure, sweet, undocumented. But no one was looking for her. In fact, no one had heard from her in over a year when I received her papers back in a brown envelope, left under my door.
No explanation, nothing. No one knew to look for her, so no one had. I wonder what her last days were like. I hope she was sky high. That’s the best I can hope for.
But certainly, it’s not always like that. Our county has always done a black market trade in young ones. They’re good for keeping house, and good for keeping company. Runaways always seem to know that they can come here and end up one of two places: Dustin’s or Kingdom Come.
So with that tradition, I have to think that Angel is just as likely to fall in the care of someone who will treat her kindly. Someone who’s willing to help the compound with our earthly requirements. Perhaps it will be a good trade. Perhaps it is our only option.
Perhaps.
Chapter 8
Angel
I run away from the confession shack as quickly as I can, paying no attention to the sharp thorns and brambles that slash at the bottoms of my feet. He told me to go, and I have to get away.
Do I feel better? Do I feel purged of sin? I'm not sure. Confession is supposed to improve us. It’s supposed to lift the burden of our sins, but I don't know if I did it right. I still feel twisted up and confused about everything that's happened.
And I still don't know what to believe. It was not a demon? Then what was it?
Almost everyone has left the area of the sermon barn, returning to their jobs or homes. Automatically I look for my mother, but I'm sure she's already working in the reclamation shack or the quilting barn. There's always a lot of work for the aunties to do.
“Hey, what do you think you're doing?”
I flinch back from the sound. Seth sidles around the corner of the barn, smiling at me as though he knew I was coming.
“It's none of your business, Seth,” I hiss at him as I pivot on my heel and try to walk back the other way. He catches me around the arm and pulls at me.
“You can't talk like to me like that, you know!”
He snarls like a cornered animal, his foul breath close to my ear. “I'm a man. Men don't tolerate that kind of disrespect!”
I jerk my arm away, stumbling backward a few feet along the long side of the barn. He keeps walking toward me slowly, his chin down, a gleam in his eyes.
My heels bark against stones in the dirt, but I’m determined not to wince. “You just watch yourself, Seth,” I warn him.
His swagger is weird and off-balance, like he just learned how to do it. I can't believe he's got this attitude with me. He's grown so fast that his trousers are way up over his ankles, revealing filthy, knobby flesh, all pale and lashed with scabs from walking through the weeds.
“Watch myself do what?” he singsongs like a little kid.
He's teasing me, thinking I'm going to get afraid of him. But I'm not afraid of him. He is still just a scrawny little jerk on the inside. On the outside, he’s barely anything you could call a man. He’s spindly and weak. Spineless. Cowardly.
“You just need to act right. You can’t treat an innocent like this, Seth. You’re lucky I don’t tell Mary how you’re talking to me. I have to be going now,” I huff.
I try to turn away again and feel his bony fingers snatch up my sleeve. Automatically I yank my arm back, but he is using those long legs to shift to the other side of me. Before I know what's happening, he has caged me in, his arms and legs boxing me against the side of the barn.
“Seth, knock it off,” I choke out, but my voice sounds strange. Some feeling rises in me, an acidic sensation that tells me something has gone very wrong. The situation has gone sideways off the path, skidding into a ditch. He really is bigger than me, I realize. And stronger than I would have guessed. I can’t get away.
“You need to learn a lesson,” he growls, reaching down with one hand and yanking at my skirt. He shoves his arm against my leg, squeezing me hard just over my knee and pulling my legs apart.
“You stop that right now!” I try to say, but I'm not sure the words got all out. Outrage, terror, and anger slosh through me. I’m overwhelmed by this mysterious feeling of being frozen, unable to move. Like in my worst nightmares, all of my body parts have suddenly turned to concrete, and I can't figure out how to run away.
“That's right, Angel,” he grunts, his breath oily and sick against my bare neck. I feel his hand drifting upward as he jams his hips against me. I should have known how strong he'd be. I feel as weak as a weed, crushed under his weight.
