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“But break time isn’t until—”
“I have to pee,” I interrupt, and I walk off before she can say anything else.
It’s a lie, but I needed to get out of there before she tried any more tactics to persuade me that it’s awesome to live here.
“Wait,” she says. “I need to go too.”
I roll my eyes. And here I was thinking I’d get rid of her easily. How foolish of me.
“Can you tell me why you think it’s bad here?” she asks. “I mean, I grew up here. I don’t know any better.”
I rub my lips together, trying to form the words without offending her.
“I mean, all we do is bring people together in love. Families are created to last. No one is ashamed of one’s body. Everyone pitches in with the work. Our community doesn’t stain the earth. What else is there to ask for?”
She has a point, but there’s also much less evil ways to go about it as a community. To her, it may be awesome, but her view is biased. She wears rose-colored glasses. To her, all these people fucking and making families are just doing God’s will. It all sounds so altruistic to live together in peace, growing your own fruits and vegetables, keeping your own livestock, and making your own clothes. Until you throw in the word authoritarian regime, and then they’d all look at me funny as if I’m making up stuff that doesn’t exist.
“In my world, we don’t force people to live by these arbitrary rules.”
“So there are no rules where you come from?” she asks.
“Well, there are rules … but women and men are equal. Sort of.”
“Sort of?” She frowns. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s hard to explain.” I wave it off. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
“No, please, tell me more.” She keeps following me. “I wanna know more.”
Why is she so intrigued?
I stop in my tracks. “Why? Why would you wanna know about a world you’ll never visit?”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t say a word, and the look on her face has changed. She’s no longer that cheerful, happy girl who prances around the grounds. I’ve burst her bubble.
“I … I …” she mutters.
“Never mind. I never should’ve said that.” I sigh out loud. “Just … let me be alone for a while, please,” I ask. “I just need to think on the toilet.”
“Okay,” she answers with a pout. I turn around and walk off, determined to ignore this growing need to educate the women here about how their world could be if only they’d rise up and revolt.
But the moment I glance over my shoulder, and Emmy is gone, a weight is lifted off my shoulders, and I can finally breathe again. For now. I don’t want to think about any of the things we talked about. I just wanna sit by myself and drink some water and pretend I’m not here. I know I’m telling myself a lie, but lies are nice sometimes. They keep you from tearing yourself apart.
After I’ve gone back to our hut, I pour myself some water and sit down to gulp it down in one go. It doesn’t quench my thirst. Instead, it only makes it worse. But it’s not a thirst for water; it’s a thirst for information.
I’m not going to get anywhere by doing nothing and abiding by the rules of this community. I need to do what no one thinks I’ll do. Something to grab their attention … to make him tell me why I’m here.
So I place my cup down, get up, and march straight out the door … all the way to the temple. I remember seeing it being marked on that map one of the elder wives forced us to memorize. It’s a huge, twentieth-century building—part wood, part concrete—with beautiful embellishments and actual gargoyles on the top. It reminds me more of a castle than an actual house, and I can’t believe the patriarchs and the president are the only ones who live there. They could fit so many people into this property, but I guess they want to keep the separation intact to make them look powerful and to literally look over the people like some kind of gods.
I shiver as I slowly walk straight to the building, gazing around to see if anyone’s watching. The guards have turned around to talk amongst themselves, and they haven’t noticed me leaving the other group nor do they notice me going straight for the temple.
Without thinking, I go up the big stairs toward the door and try to open it. Of course, it’s locked.
“Hey!”
I look over my shoulder. It’s a guard.
Shit.
I jerk the door a few more times, but it’s no use, and the guard’s approaching fast.
“Noah! I know you’re in there!” I yell as loud as I can.
