by Ker Dukey
“I love you,” he moans against my ear.
I will my heart to find comfort in his words, to realize he speaks the truth, but Clara’s always inside my head, screaming, “Run, live, find adventure!” Not having facts about what happened to Clara…I’ll never rest. Where is her heart? Why steal it? Anger boils through my blood, then sorrow and pain, combining into a fiery rage.
I give it all to Eli, disguise it as something else—desire, love.
I have many roads to travel to find justice for her, through shadows and darkness, but I will find the person who stole her from us—I will demand retribution from the heart thief.
Six
Mona
The hum of conversations flows around me, distorted by the sniffles of my mother still mourning the loss of her eldest child. She’s trying to cover up her grief, but I see her rubbing at her eyes. She’s not allowed to mourn the sinner, but even after five years, this day still cripples her. She will pay for her tears later when the guests have left.
My birthdays will never be the same. The day brings me no joy. All I think about is five years ago when I stood there in my black dress staring at the coffin with my sister inside. I felt empty then, and still feel it now.
Whispers about her death traveled like a breeze on the summer’s day through our village, everyone chasing the reprieve from their mundane lives. Clara’s story infected this place. Fear crept in and planted itself in the hearts of the youth, much to the joy of my father.
Don’t stray from the path of your leader because monsters lurk beyond our island, beyond his protection, and steal your heart.
A monster.
A heart thief.
Truth is, monsters are just evil people, and in order for there to be evil, there must also be good.
Blowing out the candles on my birthday cake brings a round of applause. But there’s a heavy tone despite the handmade decorations hanging from a nearby table.
It’s because I’m seeing a birthday my sister didn’t live past.
Five years to the day since the day she was found. I share my birthday with her death day. And in two hours, we’ll be ‘cleansing’ yet another unruly child for wanting to fly free.
“Did you make a wish?” my father asks. All eyes watch him like he’s a God.
“Sure did.” I smile tightly. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
My eighteenth isn’t the usual celebration. There’s no real party. Instead, we have half the island here to eat and talk about me marrying the village golden boy, settle down, have children. Yuck.
Eli would be a nice boy…but they don’t realize he likes to break the rules too if they benefit him. He longs to be in the inner circle, one of my father’s trusted men, speaks of belief and following rules, yet he frolics with the leader’s daughter—stole her innocence when she was fifteen years old.
“Katherine, cut the cake,” my father orders, and like a good servant, my mother jumps to obey him. Would she sit there and watch as I was forced to be cleansed? She’d never have to. I’d rather face a lifetime in my father’s dungeon.
She shut down after Clara’s death. My father put all his effort and focus into this religion. He created fear amongst our people about the world beyond our shorelines. Fear is a powerful motivator. How can they not see him for who he is? A prison warden. A punisher. This whole island is his jail.
Only those who go for supplies are permitted to leave while the rest of us are held captive. He makes kids fear the water—the only barrier between us and the monsters of the world. It only incites a craving inside me to leave this place more. I don’t fear the water or the monsters onshore.
“I hear Eli is going to ask for your hand in marriage finally.” Mary sidles up next to me, sadness in her eyes, but a smile on her lips. God forbid she admits her feelings for him or takes a risk to have something for herself.
“He will be a wonderful husband. You’re so lucky.”
A life with Eli flashes before my eyes. Mundane. Lonely. Unfulfilled. My lungs squeeze, expelling the air choking me. I try to drag in a breath, but can’t. A crack in my chest aches.
“Mona, are you okay?” Mary gasps, patting my back.
“I can’t breathe,” I wheeze. “I need air.” I pull from her and push out the front door, almost falling to the ground.
I’m suffocating..
This can’t be my life forever.
I pull my necklace from my pocket and clutch it tightly as the tears fall.
I miss her so damn much.
She was supposed to take me away from here.
She was supposed to come back for me.
Tears burn my eyes as memories haunt me.
“Mona?” a voice I recognize calls out. I shove my necklace back into my pocket.
My head lifts to see Claudia coming toward the house. A wave of joy lights within me. I run toward her, falling into her waiting embrace.
“Hey,” she sings, squeezing me against her. “Happy Birthday.”
Claudia is the only female who gets to leave the island. Her father is in charge of bringing outside goods, food, and medicine to the island. She works for him and is a dear friend to me. She took over Clara’s tales of the outside world after Clara’s death. Claudia isn’t married yet, which, at twenty-three, is frowned upon. My father will no doubt arrange her a suitor if she doesn’t hurry up and pick one herself. The thing is, Claudia’s preference is of the female variety. She plans to escape this place when the time is right. She’s told me so. She would be banished anyway if they knew her affection for the same sex.
“You want to go for a walk?” she asks, patting her pocket with a wink.
“Yes.” I beam, swiping my tears, observant of the fact she has treats.
Once out of sight, we walk along the shore. I slip out of my shoes to feel the sand between my toes.
“I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate our friendship.” She looks out across the ocean. “When Clara…died, I feared I’d never have another friend.” She swipes a tear falling from her eye. “I didn’t think I’d ever have a friend like her again, but you have been such a good friend to me. So understanding when all you have ever known is what your father preaches.”
“I read.” I shrug, grinning. They are books she sneaks to me from the outside world.
“I’m leaving,” she states, matter of fact.
My heart skips a beat and my stomach twists. I knew it was coming, but today of all days?
She slows to a stop and grips my hands in hers. “I’ll take you with me if you want that.”
Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.
Do I want that? Yes.
Mother’s words collide with my own desires to flee this place, to seek out the good Clara was searching for. To feel closer to her, live for her, for us both.
“Promise me you’ll never leave me.” Those words have stuck with me all this time, holding me captive.
“I understand this is a lot and I shouldn’t be dumping it on you, but my father is pushing for me to marry, to produce children.” She shudders. “I’ve met someone.”
My eyes widen, my stomach flip-flopping like I’ve eaten a fish plucked straight from the water. “How…who?” I breathe.
Her cheeks blossom into a pink glow, a dreamy look in her pretty eyes. “She’s one of our suppliers. I want to be with her.”
“You’re really leaving us.” I sigh.
“If I don’t, I’ll be living a lie. That’s not fair to me or whoever they force me to marry. I can’t pretend anymore.”
She’s a breath of fresh air. She brings hope to my heart that I, too, can find a place beyond here.
“I’m proud of you.” I take her in my arms, so happy for her, but so sad because I’ll miss her. She’s the only person who understands my compulsion to see for myself what’s out there.
“My girl is going to help me get a place to stay, a job. I see you hate being tied to this place, just like Clara, so if you want to come with me, meet me tonight at the
dock at midnight. If you’re not there by five past, I’ll leave and you’ll never get the chance again.”
“What if I’m there and you’re not?” I ask, raising a brow.
“Then you get on the boat and leave this place. Don’t wait for me.” There’s no humor in her tone. A silent promise passes between us to live the life we deserve.
My heart thunders in my chest, a swirling in my stomach, leaving me unsettled.
“Here.” She pulls candy from her pocket, filling up my palms. “Happy Birthday, Mona.”
“Oh my gosh!” I squeal.
“Midnight, remember.”
“Midnight.” I nod.
I’m halfway through the candy by the time I get home, hiding the rest inside my jacket and swiping at my lips to remove any trace of the sweet sugary forbidden treats.
My eyes collide with a neatly wrapped package on the porch steps leading up to the house.
A gift? It’s small with a ribbon tied neatly in a bow.
The red ribbon falls away in my hand when I retrieve it. There’s no card or tag to say who it’s from. I look around to see if anyone’s lurking, but I’m alone. Biting my lip, I surmise it must be for me.
A flutter of anticipation stirs inside me. I tear at the paper, scattering the torn pieces to the ground until I’m left with a matchbox. I stare at the box, confused why someone would gift these…or wrap them.
It rattles when I shake it. I frown, pushing it open.
No…
My legs buckle beneath me. I collapse to the steps, my lungs squeezing the air from my body.
It can’t be…
I pluck the chain from inside, dangling it from my fingers. The heart that matches the one inside my pocket.
The letter M carved into the silver for Mona so I was always close to her heart.
The dainty red jewel.
It’s Clara’s necklace.
The one she was wearing the night she left.
How did this get here? Who would do this?
Pain grips my heart as tears blur my vision. I need to understand what happened to her. I need to find the heart thief.
Seven
Mona
Going back inside the house, all eyes turn their focus on me. My legs feel unsteady. My head is fuzzy. Eli pushes through the small gathering of people, his brows tugging together. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay? Where did you go?" I don't take the offer of his outstretched hand despite wobbling slightly on my feet.
"I'm fine."
"Good. Because…" He turns to face everyone, raising his hands to gain their attention. "I appreciate we're all here to celebrate Mona's eighteenth birthday, such a special age. And she is such a special woman. I want to take this moment in front of all she holds dear to tell her…" Turning, he drops to his knee.
No, no, no. This is not happening.
"I love you."
No…stop.
He reaches in his pocket, pulling out a box.
Blackness edges in from the corners of my eyes. I'm going to pass out. My stomach stirs. "Mona Walters, will you make me the happiest man on this island and in this world and do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Heat rushes up my gullet. My mouth opens as my stomach heaves. I can't control it or stop it as all the candy vomits out all over him.
A shockwave of gasps fills the room.
My eyes blink back glassy tears. "I'm so sorry," I choke out, holding my hand to my mouth, dashing past him and into the bathroom to escape.
I spit the acid residue into the toilet and swill my mouth with water before splashing my face.
A few moments later, my father taps at the door. "Mona, are you okay? Are you ill?"
"Yes," I groan, dropping my head in the sink. Lies, lies, lies. This island is a sickness.
"I'll tell everyone to leave. You should wash up and rest before the cleansing."
"I think I'll have to miss it. I'm sick." Lies, lies, lies.
I splash my face with water again and brush my teeth to clear the sickness breath. God, how mortifying the whole thing was. Eli knew I’m not ready for marriage. Eighteen may be standard for girls of our island to wed, sometimes even younger, but to me, it was a sign of the end. Giving up my youth, my freedom. What's expected after marriage is children, and I don't even know if I want kids.
I can't do this. I open the door and gasp, stepping back when my father crowds around me, forcing me to retreat inside. Gripping my face, he pushes his fingers into my mouth, forcing it open and smelling my breath. He holds up a candy wrapper. "You dropped this in your hurry to flee!”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"It's not mine."
"Liar!" he roars. Plugging the sink, he fills it with water.
"I warned you the outside world is poison. Even their candy disguised as sweet turns to acid in your stomach."
He dunks my head and water rushes into my open mouth, racing down my throat into my lungs as I inhale by mistake. My head is pulled free. Water cascades down my face and body. My hair mats to my head.
"Where did you get them?"
"They're not mine," I wheeze out, then inhale a big breath before he dunks me under again. My lungs burn, screaming for air. He lifts me back out.
"WHERE?"
"They were on the steps in a matchbox." Lies.
Releasing me, he pushes the hair from my eyes. "Why do you test me so?"
I want to scream, "Because you're a fake voice of God!" But I don't. Instead, I give him the answer he craves. "I'm sorry."
"Get yourself together. We have the cleansing to attend."
"Please, can I not rest, father?"
"Your greed is a sin, and that made you sick. Get yourself together."
I bow my head, the sickness returning to stir my stomach.
"And, Mona…" I look up, "you will be accepting Eli's proposal."
“If I refuse?”
“You won’t.”
Does he not realize he's killing me?
"I don't want to be part of this." I swallow down the unease swilling the contents of my stomach.
"She's un-pure, Mona. God knows how many times she snuck off the island and mixed with the unclean." Mary tsks.
She really is a perfect match for Eli.
"I'm looking forward to your wedding celebrations," she inserts, like this is just another day.
In the stories brought from the outside world, there are no such rituals. My father calls them rituals, but they're punishments. The room is full of every man, woman, and child aged thirteen and above. Not by choice. All cleansings are mandatory. Thankfully, this is only my fourth.
Silence falls over the room as my father takes center stage of our church. He reads from the book of scripture that holds the history of “our peoples” beliefs—a holy book only leaders of light can add to.
Clara once told me the outside world calls us a cult and that our leaders manipulate the book of scripture. It's not the true words of God. I could have told her that.
"From darkness and sin, she will be cleansed. Offering her body to the men of light, if blessed with a child of light, she will be cleansed, reborn into the faith." My father drones on as I try to block him out.
He gestures for Megan to come forward. Her white robe trails behind her like a veil. "Do you want to be forgiven for your sinful ways?" he asks her. She looks different from how I remember her. Her skin is pale, and her face is gaunt from weight loss. Her hair has been cut to an inch all over her scalp.
My eyes cut to Megan's mother, her hands clutched together in her lap. A look of anxious tension tugs at her brow and thin lines web from the corners of her eyes, like she’s aged ten years over the past twelve months.
"I do," Megan states to the relief of her mother. She unfastens her robe and steps up to where a book of light is placed on a pillow.
I close my eyes, trying to rid myself of the images of her ribs poking through her skinny frame, her breasts barely there.
She kneels, placing her
face on the cover, her hands either side of the book, her buttocks prone. It’s heart breaking that we all have to witness her this way.
"The chosen please come forward," my father commands.
Ten men are chosen by my father to put their seed inside her, hoping to fill her womb to earn her forgiveness. If it doesn't take, she’ll spend another year imprisoned and will have to go through this again and again until she's “cleansed”—impregnated by someone she doesn’t love, marry, or choose for herself. My legs buzz with the need to run. If I do, it will be me up there next. The intense silence is almost deafening. Movement draws all eyes to the front of the church. Two of the chosen stand in their robes, brothers. One isn’t even sixteen yet. Hushed whispers echo through the place as Daniel rises from his seat, along with his father, who’s married with three wives.
Megan’s eyes scan the crowd, no doubt trying to distinguish who’s wearing a robe and who isn’t.
All heads turn to Jason next, Mary’s older brother, recently married with a child on the way. His wife’s face loses all color, her hand instinctively rubbing at her growing bump as her other hand clutches the seat, turning her knuckles white.
Megan’s eyes squeeze closed, a tear leaking free, when Gilbert stands, needing aid from his son when his robe gets caught beneath his foot. I pray he trips on it and dislocates his hip on the way to the podium. He’s in his sixties, and a horrible, loyal enforcer for my father, and his father before that—an original believer and one of the founders of our laws and book of light.
My stomach volts.
Megan is nineteen.
Stop this. Don't do this. Megan, tell them no!
Two more men stand and join the others at the stage.
A small gasp from Mary has a few people turn in her direction. Her eyes widen and cheeks flame. I follow her gaze to see Eli standing.
No.
His eyes cut to me, then to the stage.
