Page 17 of Under His Rule

The elder sister leans over my desk, her face creeping closer and closer until I can smell the fishy breath that makes me want to lean back. But I don’t. I stay put, solid as a rock in this chair.

“You’ve met the elders already, haven’t you? The ones that guarded your small, concrete suffering hut?”

The mere mention of the concrete makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“They are keen to keep troublemakers such as you in check. They’d gladly throw you back into that suffering hut. So will you choose to behave, or are you going to be difficult?” she asks with a threatening undertone.

I nod a few times. I can’t even say a word. That’s how scared I am of the prospect of being back in that cage.

“Good,” she says, adding a dirty smile. “Now, where was I?”

She returns to the slides, pointing out all the things she thinks are important, like where all the huts are on a map, the important community buildings such as the dining hut, the clothing creation hut, and the showers. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any sort of shower in my own hut. So I raise my hand.

“Yes?” the elders sister says.

“Are we … allowed to shower in our own huts?”

“No, dear, there’s no shower in your hut,” she says, laughing a bit as if the question is funny. “The shower hut is where you will clean yourself.”

Odd.

“This here is where everyone will eat,” she says, pointing at the dining hut. “You will not eat without permission. Those are the rules.” She eyes me down specifically as she reaches for her bag and fishes out an apple with a bite taken out. “This is a sin. Sins are to be punished. Do you want to sin?”

“No,” I say condescendingly.

“I hope we’re clear then.”

“Very,” I reply with a brazen voice, and she throws me another.

“Over here is the prayers hut”—she points at the screen again—“which is where you will offer your prayers twice each day. Now should you come across any elder or even helpers who needs your assistance, you will offer it, as you are an initiate and you stand in service to those around you.”

“Until I become a wife,” I taunt, cocking my head.

She narrows her eyes at me. “Yes. The ritual of the wife will eventually be bestowed on you. Once you have familiarized yourselves with our customs and the Holy Land.”

“And then we make babies …” I mutter.

She eyes me down again but doesn’t say another word, which makes me feel like I’m pushing it again, so I shut up for now and stare at the other girl instead, whose dread manages to spill over to me just with one single look. We’re alone in our misery, alone … but together. And for some reason, right now, I want nothing more than to hold her hand and squeeze it tight.

But I can’t. She’s across the room, on purpose, because that elder sister did not want us to sit together, probably to prevent us from supporting each other. Because support means taking back power. It means survival instead of breaking down.

It means a revolt. And they will do anything to nip that in the bud.

I’ll remember every single inch of this place, every tiny rule they have, and every person I meet here … so that when I escape, I know exactly who to blame for my gruesome trial.

I raise my hand. The elder sister points at me, and I ask, “Are we the first captured here?”

She shakes her head. “No, dear, so don’t try anything.”

Guess they’ve got this going like one oiled machine.

“Why did you take us?” I ask. “Aren’t your people enough?”

She gives me that disingenuous smile again. “In order to function as a commune, our family needs fresh blood. Fresh wombs.”

I shiver. She makes it sound as though we’re being thrown to the wolves … or used as incubators.

“To prevent the children from getting sick, of course.”

To prevent them from being inbred bastards. Got it.

“Why us? Why not any other woman?” I continue.

“Because you are special,” she answers, which is not really an answer to anything. “And because a patriarch has shown a special interest in you.”

My eyes widen. It’s him. She’s talking about him.

“Who? What’s his name? Can I see him?” I ask, leaning over my bench.

She cocks her head. “No, girl, and don’t you get any ideas in that tiny head of yours.” She taps the top of my head with half of the broken stick. “You are special but not that special. The patriarch will let elders and their wives know when the time comes what he wishes to do with you. Until then, you will follow the Family’s rules and schedules.”

She turns around to face the screen again.

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