The Book of David

by Kate L. Mary

  He’s out.

  I stumble back and collapse on the bed, the book still in my hand just in case.

  Then I just stare at his motionless body, unsure if I’m relieved or upset when his chest still rises. It’s hard to know what these feelings inside me mean. This man deserves to be punished for what he’s done, but I can’t imagine taking a life. Can’t imagine having to live with the knowledge that I killed someone, even in self-defense.

  I watch his chest rise and fall and finally decide I’m relieved. He’s been my tormentor for the past three years, but I’m not Father David, and I don’t think I could live with myself if I killed a man. Even one as horrible as David.

  After a moment, I let out a sigh and toss the book on the floor. He hasn’t moved, and there’s a pretty big gash on his head from where I hit him. I don’t know a lot about medicine, but I’ve gleaned enough knowledge from working in the hospital to know he could have a concussion. Hopefully, it’s bad enough to keep him out for a while so I can figure out what my next move is.

  Jared. Of course, finding him has to be the next thing I do, only I have no idea where they’re holding him, and it’s not like I can go charging into the main building right now. When David dragged me out, the second floor was still bustling with activity. I’ll have to wait until things settle down for the night and everyone has returned to their homes, and then I can find Jared. Then we can leave.

  Waiting sounds like a particularly horrible form of torture at the moment, but I’m out of options.

  I clench my hand and wince when a sharp pain shoots through it. When I pry my fingers apart and flip it over, I find two deep gashes cutting across my palm. It must have happened when the mirror above the dresser broke, only I was too pumped full of adrenaline to feel it. Stitches would be nice, but since medical treatment is out of the question, I’ll have to be satisfied with washing the cuts and wrapping them up.

  I’m just climbing to my feet when I hear the sound of a door opening in the other room. Footsteps pound through the house, and I’m suddenly assaulted by panic.

  It’s Father David, coming to see if his son has managed to control me. It has to be. I spin around, holding the tattered remains of my dress close to my chest. There’s glass everywhere, and blood from both David and me. His motionless body is still right where he fell, and there’s no way I’ll be able to hide him even if I thought it would help. But I know it wouldn’t because there’s nowhere for me to run. I’m trapped.

  The footsteps sound in the hall, getting closer by the second, and my pulse quickens the way it did when David was towering over me. With hiding or running out of the question, all I can do is try to defend myself from whatever Father David might do to me, but the only weapons in the room are the two I already used, the broken lamp and The Book of David. Since the book isn’t much of a weapon unless my enemy is already injured, I grab what’s left of the lamp up off the floor and spin to face the door.

  It flies open, and Jared runs in, out of breath and covered in dirt and sweat. The knife in his hand is small, but the glow from the overhead light glints off the sharp blade. It also accentuates the deep circles under Jared’s eyes.

  He stops dead in his tracks after only one step, his eyes moving over me, and then going to David. “Willow? Are you okay?”

  The broken lamp falls from my hand and clatters to the floor as a sob breaks out of my chest. I stumble forward, throwing myself into his arms. So many times over the last three weeks I’ve wanted to do this same thing, to wrap my arms around him and allow him to wrap his arms around me, but most of the time I’ve been too afraid to give in to my feelings. Just like I was too afraid to leave my mother.

  Never again.

  This situation, Jared getting locked away and me being married off to David, is the result of my fear, and I refuse to let it control me anymore. What happened to me when I was fifteen was horrible, but somehow I have to find a way to cope with it, to harness the experience and use it to make me stronger.

  “Jared!” I sob, pressing my face against his chest. “I was afraid you were dead.”

  His doesn’t even hesitate to pull me tighter against him, or to kiss the top of my head and the side of my face.

  “I was in a cellar,” he says, his lips moving against my temple. “My father rescued me.”

  Tears stream down my cheeks, and I pull away so I can look him over, still in shock, still afraid he’s going to disappear. His face is gaunt, the dark rings under his eyes accenting how little he’s slept. He stinks of dirt and other things I refuse to acknowledge because they bring my own punishment to mind, and his clothes are filthy. He’s shaking, too, as if his trip from the main building took every ounce of strength he had. Like me, Father David was probably withholding food from Jared, and it makes everything inside me ache to think of what he’s been through over the last few days.

  But he doesn’t seem to be the least bit worried about himself, especially when he looks me over. He takes in my ripped dress and the scene around us. Splatters of blood decorate the bedspread, and a small circle of red is spread out under David’s head. Shards of glass cover the dresser and floor, and the broken lamp lies discarded at my feet. David, still breathing, isn’t naked, but it’s very clear he was in the process of trying to remove his clothes. His shirt is undone, his pants loose enough around his waist that I know they, too, have been unbuttoned.

  I came so close.

  Had I not mustered the strength to strike when I did, David would have had his way with me again. Jared might have made it on time, although probably not before things had reached a horrible point for me, but looking at his ragged appearance, I have serious doubts he would have been able to hold David off. He would have tried, and I may have snapped out of it enough to help, but it’s entirely possible we would have failed.

  When Jared lets go of me, his jaw is clenched so hard it looks painful. He’s still staring at David, almost as if he’s avoiding my gaze. I study his face, trying to read the expression, but I can’t figure out what’s going through his mind.

  “Jared,” I say, “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. Right now, we need to get you some food. Water, too. Get you cleaned up.”

  I try to pull him from the room, but he shakes me off. He swallows, and then with some effort says, “Did he…” Only he can’t get the words out.

  “I stopped him,” I say reassuringly. “I’m okay.”

  Jared nods as he swallows again. “He’s alive.”

  It isn’t a question, but I answer anyway. “Yes.”

  The fire flashing in his gray eyes has me grabbing his arm again, pulling him from the room. Right now he looks capable of murder, capable of picking up one of the shards of glass scattered around the room and slicing David’s throat wide open.

  “Have you eaten since Father David locked you up?”

  He shakes his head but still doesn’t look away from David.

  I pull on his arm harder. “Let’s get you some food and water, then we’ll talk. You’re weak, and if we’re going to get out of here, I need you to be strong.”

  It takes some effort to get him to leave the room, but once we’re in the hall, he drapes his arm around my shoulders. My dress, torn nearly to shreds, barely covers me, but with everything else going on, it doesn’t seem important, so I just cross my arm over my chest and do my best to keep it together. I’ll change after I’ve gotten some food and water into Jared. That’s more important.

  I make him sit on the couch, only pausing long enough to make sure the front door is locked before I head into the kitchen. It’s been stocked, thankfully, and I find a loaf of freshly baked bread on the counter, as well as some butter and strawberry jam. I take them, along with a glass of water, to Jared, preparing the food on the coffee table in front of him. He looks so worn and dejected that at first I’m not sure what to say to him, but when I hand him the bread, he takes it with a grateful smile.

  When he places his free hand on my leg, I know he’ll be
okay. He’s in shock, maybe, too tired and hungry to know what to say or do. He used what last little bit of strength he had to get here, and now that the adrenaline has worn off, he’s spent. He just needs some rest.

  I cross my arms over my chest in a futile attempt to keep my dress together while Jared eats two pieces of bread, buttered and covered in a thick layer of strawberry jam. Then he drains the glass of water and lets out a sigh that seems to come from deep inside him.

  “I thought I’d never see you again.” His tone is resigned. “I hated myself.”

  “None of this is your fault.” I uncross my arms so I can take his hand in mine, hating that it trembles, and suddenly I’m terrified he might have been tortured for his part in all of this. “What did Father David do?”

  “Pretty much what you told me. Locked me in a cellar, brought me water a few times, but no food. He talked to me about repentance and told me to forget you.” Jared’s eyes move up so they’re holding mine. “That’s a promise I never would have been able to make, though.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I tell him. “We’re going to leave. You and me.”

  “Not for a while.” His hand is still in mine when he sinks back, letting his head flop to the side like he’s too exhausted to hold it up. “It’s not even nine o’clock, and there are people everywhere. It took me forever to get out of the main building and over here. We’ll have to wait until closer to midnight, maybe even later.”

  Three hours. We can wait that long. Jared can use the time to eat and rest up; I can get some things together. Maybe even shower. I look down at my torn dress, hating the useless fabric more than ever. I’m streaked with blood, but I’m not sure which is mine and which is David’s.

  He’s another issue I’ll have to deal with before we leave. He’s out now, but he could wake up, and we should take precautions. Tie him up, maybe.

  “I don’t want to waste any time,” I say, getting to my feet. “I need to shower and change my clothes, and we need to make sure David is incapacitated just in case he does come to.”

  Jared drags himself to his feet with what looks like great effort. “I’ll help.”

  We go back to the bedroom together, but it takes some time to figure out what to do with David. We search the closets and dressers, but there’s no rope in the house, and I can tell all the activity is wearing on Jared. Finally, I decide to get a sheet from the closet and rip it into strips. Once that’s done, Jared and I work together to drag David across the bedroom and prop him up in a chair, and then we use the strips to tie his arms and legs so he can’t get up if he wakes. I gag him, making sure it isn’t too tight. I don’t want him to be able to yell or alert anyone to what’s going on, but I also don’t want him to somehow suffocate. We’ve made it this far, and now all I want to do is walk away from this place with a clear conscience.

  Once David is secure, Jared collapses on the bed, unaffected by the blood streaked across the blanket. Every move seems to take a lot of effort, but I know more than anything he needs water, so I force him to drink two glasses before allowing him to close his eyes.

  Before I’ve even left the room, he’s snoring softly.

  In the shower, the sting of the hot water against my head causes me to let out a hiss of pain. I probe my scalp with my fingers, wincing when I touch a sensitive spot. Until now, I’d forgotten about David ripping my hair out by the roots. Thankfully, the bald spot feels small.

  My hand aches, too, but I take the time to wash the cuts out really well, knowing I can’t risk infection. My hand is still bleeding when I climb out of the shower, so I cover it with a small towel before wrapping a larger one around my body, and then head back to the bedroom to look for clothes.

  David is still out, and Jared is still snoring away when I open the top drawer of the dresser. I’m silently praying that my mother brought my things over like David said she did, and let out a sigh of relief when I find my familiar white blouses and dark skirts. For once, I’m thankful for my mother’s diligent submissiveness.

  Getting dressed with the towel wrapped around my bleeding hand is a challenge. Not only does every move hurt, but by the time I’ve managed to button my blouse, it’s covered in red streaks. I can’t go on like this, letting my hand bleed all over the place, but I’m going to need Jared’s help, and I don’t want to wake him, so I use some of the strips left over from the sheet I ripped up and do my best to bandage the wounds on my own. It’s temporary, but it will do the job so I can get some things together.

  I pass the time by going through the cabinets, putting aside things I think may be helpful, but there isn’t much. Father David didn’t exactly stock the house with supplies he thought might be useful for someone on the run.

  When I’ve exhausted every nook and cranny in the house, I butter a piece of bread for myself and stand in the kitchen as I eat. My eyes are on the front door like I’m waiting for it to burst open, the knife Jared had with him sitting on the counter just inches from me, but I doubt anyone will stop by. No one would want to bother the happy couple on their wedding night.

  Lost in the silence of the house, I nearly jump out of my skin when footsteps creek across the floor. Seconds later, Jared appears in the hall, dragging himself, but by the time I see him, I’m already holding the knife.

  He lifts his eyebrows, and for the first time since he arrived at the house, flashes me the crooked smile I love so much. “You don’t even need me, do you?”

  I set the knife on the counter. “Of course I do, just in a different way.”

  That makes him laugh. “I’m glad to hear it.” He crosses the room to me, and the closer he gets, the more his smile fades. When he stops in front of me, he reaches out and takes my hand. The one that’s bandaged. “You’re bleeding.”

  “I cut it. I don’t remember when, but it must have been on the broken mirror.”

  “Let me see,” he says, gingerly unwrapping the bandage.

  The throb grows as he unwinds the now saturated fabric, and when it’s gone and tossed aside, I see that the gashes are deeper than I originally thought. One starts just under my thumb and cuts across the fleshy part of my palm, while the second is just under my finger joints. They’re both over an inch long, too. Stitches would be nice, but without that luxury, we’re just going to have to bandage it back up and pray the cuts heal quickly.

  “It looks bad.” Jared’s eyebrows pull down.

  “There are some more strips over there,” I say, nodding to the fabric strewn across the counter.

  We clean the cut again, and I do my best not to wince. Then I allow Jared to wind the snowy fabric around my hand. Blood soaks through the first few layers within seconds, but by the time he’s done, there isn’t a spot of red to be seen. At least for now. I can’t even flex my hand with the bandage on, meaning it’s going to be pretty useless to me. Hopefully, we can get out of here without much trouble.

  Jared looks up, trapping my gaze with his. He’s still holding my bandaged hand, his fingers resting on my wrist just above the strips of sheet. Just having him at my side helps anchor me, and the feel of his skin against mine is an added bonus.

  This is why I fought David as hard as I did. So I could have a life with Jared and not live in fear. We’ll make sure we get out of here and everything we’ve been through isn’t in vain.

  “So what’s the plan?” I ask, unable to look away from his gray-brown eyes.

  “First, we need to get supplies.” Jared’s fingers rub my wrist, right where my pulse thumps. “It’s risky to go back into the main building, but I don’t know if we’ll last without supplies.”

  “Money,” I gasp, standing up straighter, ignoring the throb in my palm. Until now, I’d forgotten all about the box I found on Father David’s desk. “I know where Father David keeps his money.”

  Jared’s eyebrows jump up. “How much?”

  “I don’t know, I didn’t count it. But there was a box of it, and the bill on top had fifty on it.”

&n
bsp; He smiles and pulls me in for a hug. “Perfect! That will help us once we reach a town. We can buy some clothes and get a hotel room if we need to. I was worried about what we were going to do without money.”

  The story Mother Ruth told me comes to mind, and I pull away. “Jared, do you have family on the outside? Grandparents, aunts, uncles…anything?”

  His smile fades as he shakes his head. “I doubt it. I had a grandma. I remember her vaguely, but I’m not sure where she lived. It wasn’t close to us. I think I may have even had an aunt somewhere, but I’m not sure. My parents weren’t close to their family. There was some kind of fight before I was born, and they didn’t talk much.”

  “I have family in Austin. Before she died, Mother Ruth told me my mother’s parents and sister came to the commune in Texas after I was born. My grandparents might be dead by now, but I probably have an aunt somewhere.”

  Instead of looking excited, Jared frowns. “But how will we find them? Texas is huge, and even knowing what city they lived in doesn’t guarantee anything. Especially since they were your mother’s family. They’d have a different last name.”

  He’s right.

  I let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know how we’ll find them, but we have to try.”

  “I was only ten when we joined the Children, Willow. My knowledge of the outside world was limited to video games and cookies. I have no idea how to find someone out there.”

  When I look up, the worry in his eyes makes me move closer. “All the more reason to find them. We’re adults, but without help, we can’t make it out there. How would we find jobs or do anything else?” I have to swallow when my throat tightens with worry. “We’ll figure it out. We have to.”

  Jared nods before pulling me in for another hug, something I’m not only getting used to, but have learned to savor. I squeeze my eyes shut and allow my body to relax as I focus on how it feels to have arms wrapped around me that aren’t threatening or controlling.