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“Not the ceremony,” Holly says with big, bright eyes. “The prayers.”
“Prayers?” I narrow my eyes.
“Yeah, it’s when we all give prayers to God to help the women of this community get pregnant.”
I cringe at the thought. Of course, they want more babies. More people to indoctrinate and work for them. It’s like one big, well-oiled machine.
When they’re done draping me in that same old white outfit, we all go outside. Tons of other women join us on the path, like a sea of white cloaks, and we all flow in the same direction to a big building in the center of the commune’s grounds.
Men are among us too, but they don’t have to dress a certain way, and none of them are silent like us. It’s as if it’s an unwritten rule for the women to shut up and listen while the men are allowed to do pretty much anything except screw someone else’s wife.
Unless you’re a patriarch of course … then all the rules go out the window.
No wonder they all seem to enjoy their position so much.
When we arrive in the giant building, rows and rows of people all line up in front of the stage where the same patriarchs sit, and everyone goes to their knees. It’s as if they’re all worshipping them, and I’m left questioning my sanity when I do exactly the same thing.
I sit down in the back, looking down the hall, trying not to stick out. I don’t want more punishment, but I can still observe. There are women standing behind some of the patriarchs, but not behind the president in the middle, which I find unusual as there was before. In front of them, there’s also a circle where there are no people kneeling, and I wonder why.
Suddenly, the president stands from his seat. The people look up in awe at this man. Both Emmy and Holly seem completely transfixed, and even April’s staring with anticipation. It’s almost as if everyone’s hanging on his lips, dying for his words. “Dear people of the Holy Land. Today, we pray to God so our family may flourish and our hearts will remain full of love.”
“Amen,” everyone says.
“God has blessed us with so many fruits. Our fields are bountiful, and our women are fertile.”
Bile rises, and I swallow it back down.
“Our men are strong and kindhearted. Our children are curious and eager to learn,” he continues. “We have much to be thankful for, so today we say our thanks to God.”
“Amen.”
The people bow their heads each time they say the words, their hands on their laps, opened like blooming flowers. It’s almost as if they want me to believe they’re innocent. But I know better than that.
“Praise the Lord for giving us so many blessings so that we may serve him now and in the afterlife.”
“Amen.”
The more they chant, the more goose bumps scatter on my skin.
The president clasps his hands together and closes his eyes. “It’s time to bring in our blessed women.”
The people look up with bright, starry eyes as doors on the side of the room open. In walk a couple of women, some of whom I recognize from the rituals while others are completely unfamiliar to me … but some of them look pregnant.
The smiles on their faces are huge as they stand in front of the crowd, facing the patriarchs and the president. Two elder wives come toward them, give them two kisses on the cheeks and bow … then they rip off their dresses.
My eyes widen, and my jaw drops.
One by one, the women’s white clothing are torn off and thrown aside as if it’s nothing, but they’re naked … in front of everyone.
My heart is racing, and I want to leap out and protect these women from these men’s eyes, but I know that would cause me more problems than I’d be able to get out of, and I don’t ever want to go back to that concrete hut. These women don’t even seem bothered by the fact that hundreds of people are staring at their naked bodies.
That could be anyone. It could’ve been me right there.
I shiver in place.
“Cold?” Emmy whispers.
I shake my head. “What’s happening to those women?”
“They’re getting their blessings from the patriarchs,” she whispers back.
“For what?”
“For hopefully getting or being pregnant.” She raises her brows and points at the one woman with the bigger belly. “She’s confirmed. But late. We would’ve done a prayer sooner if they’d known earlier.”
“Okay.” It all sounds crazy to me. “So you don’t know if the others are carrying children?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter.” She smiles and gazes at the same scene as I do with a look of awe. “Receiving a patriarch’s blessing is the biggest honor there is, and once you’ve been blessed, you’re no longer available to be picked at the ceremony.”
