Anointed

by Charity B.

  I choke, my throat threatening to collapse. I claw at his hand, unable to answer him even if I intended to. My vision becomes spotty, and my mind loses focus.

  My mother screams for me in the distance until, finally, I am released from his clutches. I collapse to the floor, wheezing in my attempt to refill my lungs.

  Before I can regulate my breathing, he’s grabbing me by my arm and yanking me down the hall. I look over my shoulder at Zeke, in only his union suit, frowning at me with concern. Jacob is next to him concealing his smirk. Internally rolling my eyes, I’m dragged further down the hall to my room.

  He tosses me inside, and I fall to the floor. “You will not leave this spot until Keaton brings you to the holding room.”

  The door slams behind him, and he stomps back down the hall where I hear my mothers asking what’s happening.

  Crawling on my bed, I rub my throat, groaning as I lie down and look at the wooden beams across the ceiling. Part of me is proud of her for standing up to him. She’s never been afraid to speak her mind, at least not to me, and it’s one of the million things about her that make her my favorite person in the Anointed Land. I’ve always wanted my mothers to be stronger and defend themselves, although I logically see why they don’t. Now, I’m wishing she would have been more like them.

  If only I was already the Prophet. Then Zaaron would tell me what is to become of her. His wrath can be gruesome and vengeful. I often wonder what it will be like to share a mind with Him.

  Just last month, Rose Taub was caught stealing fruits from the general store for the third time. Henry Taub has the habit of using food as a tool to keep his wives in line, and Rose was being starved for disrespecting him. For the sin of thievery, Zaaron ordered my father to remove the three middle fingers on her right hand.

  If He would do that to a woman who was only hungry for food, what will He do to Laurel Ann for spitting His blessing back in His face?

  I unknowingly doze off, awakening to my bedroom door slamming against the wall.

  “Get up,” my father barks.

  Scrambling to my feet, I look into his angry face. “What are you going to do to her?”

  His nostrils flare as he stares at me for a long, tedious moment. “I only do what is ordered of me by Zaaron. Now, move. Your uncle is here to take you to the holding room.”

  “Just tell me she’ll be okay…please.”

  He flinches like he’s going to hit me, but instead takes a step closer. “You listen to me. You are Zebadiah Immanuel Fitch. You have a destiny. A plan set forth for you by our God!” Grabbing my arms, he shakes me. “Do you not see, by fighting me, you are fighting Him? Things are going to change, my son. Now, if I have to repeat myself, you will not enjoy the outcome.”

  Losing my footing, I stumble back. I don’t care about my fucking destiny. I just want to know she’s going to be all right.

  I scoff and pass by him to leave my room. “Yes, sir.”

  When I arrive in the dining room, my uncle Keaton is with my mothers. He grunts at me in his way of greeting. My mother rushes to me, hugging my neck and kissing me.

  “Be obedient, baby. It can’t happen to you, I couldn’t bear it,” she whispers urgently.

  My throat tightens, my eyes widening at what her comment could be referring to. “What can’t happen to me, Ma?”

  Just as my father appears in the doorway, my uncle says, “We must go, Zebadiah.”

  It’s hard to find my breath. My father’s been bugging me for the past few months to study The True Testament and other religious texts. It’s important that the Prophet has extensive knowledge of everything involving our belief system. I’ve been putting it off, but now I am angry at my procrastination. If I knew spiritual law inside and out, maybe I would have a better idea of what horrors are awaiting her.

  Turning from my father’s glare, I do as I’m told and follow my uncle Keaton out the front door. We walk down the pathway, and I wait until we are a good distance from the house before speaking.

  “Will you tell me what is to become of her? Please, Uncle Keaton?”

  He sighs and steps ahead of me. “I was specifically ordered to not give you that information.”

  Hurrying to keep up, I walk briskly beside him. “Just tell me, is she to remain bound to my father?”

  With a frown, he grunts. I don’t think he’s going to respond when he finally says, “No.”

  My pulse thumps at my temples, and I wipe my hand over my mouth. She’s being stripped of her position as the Prophet’s wife, which to most would be a devastating loss. Not to her though. My father knows that, and Zaaron does too. There has to be more in store for her.

  “Will she receive another cleansing?”

  He shakes his head, walking faster. “Enough about the girl. No more talking.”

  I bite my tongue at the desire to call him my father’s dog. Insulting him would get me nowhere.

  As we walk through the common ground, I search for any sign of her. My uncle doesn’t speak to me again until he’s leading me into my holding room. He uses a match to light the lamp before walking to the door.

  “Your choices go far beyond you. Everything has a consequence.” He doesn’t speak that often, so his words surprise me. He tips his hat as he backs out of the room. “Get some rest, kid.”

  She wasn’t there.

  My breath comes out wheezy as I rub the back of my neck. I think the ox yoke may have cut me when it dug in. I’m hunched over in the corner of the box of repentance, next to the water tank. Even with my body in agony, my thoughts refuse to leave her.

  I scanned the crowd for her face through my entire cleansing. I screamed as my father burnt and cut my back, all the while, I just wanted to see her eyes.

  My siblings followed their apparent orders by refusing to speak a word to me when they brought me my meals in the holding room. The few moments I had with my father before the ritual were filled with nothing more than threats and insults.

  The worst possible scenario keeps haunting me. I’ve never seen an excommunication besides Benji’s mother, and that was her choice. I have to believe Zaaron wouldn’t cast her out for this. She wants nothing more than to go to the Paradise Star.

  She’s probably just in the other holding room. She has to be.

  Shifting my body to lie beneath the water tank has me gritting my teeth in pain. I would like to believe every decision made by my father, when it comes to spiritual law, is sanctioned, but today felt personal. Twelve lashings and forty-five hours in the box is excessive, even for the worst offenses. He was making an example of me.

  Using my torn shirt as a pillow, I lie beneath the spigot and open my mouth, waiting for a drop of moisture.

  I try imagining all the best outcomes of this. Maybe I’m getting scared for no reason. Still though, there’s a disquiet that refuses to dissipate.

  I close my eyes as a drop of water falls into my mouth, and I savor it. I realize, with the water tank being the only source of relief in this box, she likely spent her time lying in this exact spot. It makes my chest feel raw to think that she went through this. I’m used to my father’s abuse, yet it did nothing to prepare me. There were moments when the whip was ripping apart my flesh that I feared my ability to survive.

  Guilt hits me in the chest, and I can barely breathe. She never would have lied about the blood if I hadn’t suggested it. This chain reaction of events falls on my shoulders. Whatever is happening to her is my fault.

  Please don’t let her suffer for my actions. While she responded out of fear, my choices were born from selfishness. If anyone deserves your wrath, it’s me. She means so much to me that I was thinking of my own desires and not the good of the Anointed Land. I know I must do better if I am to be an honorable Prophet, and I vow to make holier choices. I simply ask you to spare her. I know I am destined to rule this compound, but I have not taken the responsibility of it. Please, show her your grace, and I will be the man you want me to be. The man you prophesied I w
ould be.

  Light I haven’t seen for what feels like days burns my eyes as my father arrives to release me from my confinement.

  “Go immediately home and wait for me in your room.” His voice bounces off the walls of the wooden box.

  I nod my head and bite my tongue until it hurts to keep myself from asking about her. He wouldn’t answer me anyway. My shirt hangs open, baring the sensitive flesh of my back. The glaring sun turns my vision black, and my legs haven’t been walked on in hours. They are wobbly beneath me, and I fall off the plank as I try to leave.

  My father doesn’t attempt to help me up or speak to me at all. I force myself to my feet before turning my back to him and walking to the ranch.

  In the distance, the school bell rings. The sound used to ignite joy over the end of another school day, and now it only brings anxiety.

  It’s never taken me this long to get home before, and it’s getting more difficult to not stop and lie down on the ground. The only thing driving me is the possibility of getting answers from someone in my family.

  Grass rustles behind me, and I groan as I turn to see my brother, Jacob, running up to me. “So, you’re finally out, huh?”

  “You’re clearly the one with the brains in the family.”

  He doesn’t laugh at my sarcasm, he just grinds his teeth and taunts me. “Too bad it was all for nothing.”

  My blood turns to stone in my veins. “What do you mean?”

  Shrugging, he continues walking. “I just mean you’re the future Prophet. You risked your soul for that tainted bitch, and Zaaron excommunicated her anyway.”

  My body is consumed with a burning as hot as the fire from my cleansing. My exhaustion is swallowed by vehemence, fueled with heartbreak.

  Excommunicated?! You fucking excommunicated her?!

  A roar rips from my throat before I tackle him to the ground. I don’t notice the pain from moments ago. I don’t feel anything past betrayal, grief, and rage. Somewhere in my mind, I know that my brother is not who I really want on the receiving end of my fury, but I allow my fists to rain down onto his body anyway.

  I know I’m screaming at him, yet I can’t recall the words that last left my mouth. He attempts to cover his face, tucking his knees to his chest. Something wraps around my arm, pulling me off him.

  “Zeb! Zeb! Stop!” The tremors behind my eyes cease, allowing me to focus on Zeke. “Are you crazy?”

  Jacob spits on the ground and wipes his lip. “Wait till Father hears about this.”

  Ezekiel’s jaw clenches as he points a finger at our brother. “You will keep your deceitful mouth shut or I’ll shut it for you.” His anger is rare, however, if he’s pushed far enough, his temper can be vicious. Turning back to me, his expression softens. “What are you doing?”

  Of all my siblings, I am by far the closest to Zeke. He’s teased me about all the time I spent with Laurel Ann, but he was always there to listen, and he’s the only one who knows how I truly feel about her.

  I don’t have to be strong in front of him, so I’m not. I let the tears freely fall. “Is she really gone?”

  He closes his eyes, giving me the slightest of nods. My chest heaves, and I shake my head as if my denial can undo what’s been done. Ire is the life source of my newfound vigor as I run from my brothers toward the fence. Zeke calls my name, and I block it out, using every scrap of my energy to get to the edge of the compound.

  My fingers grasp the fence. I scan the field beyond for any sign of her, and find only emptiness. Looking down shatters me even more when I see yellow and white flowers growing against the wood of the fence. A smile appears through my sobs at the memory of the day I finally worked up the courage to talk to her.

  My palms are sticky and sweaty around the bouquet I hold in my hand. She reminds me of a shooting star, the way she glows when she smiles. Her laugh tickles my stomach as I walk up to her among the wildflowers. I hope she’s pleased with the ones I picked for her. The white and yellow against her red hair would make them look like they were on fire. Why do I feel so funny? I can’t decide if I’m scared or excited.

  She raises her head, and our eyes meet. Her freckled cheeks turn rosy, and her full, pink lips lift into a smile. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she flutters her long eyelashes.

  “Hello, Zebadiah,”

  I think I’m going to throw up.

  “Uh, hi, Laurel Ann…I picked these for your crown.” I hold them out to her, and my heart flips at her sweet expression. “I thought they would look pretty in your hair.”

  She accepts them with a gentle smile. “You got these just for me?” I nod to her and stuff my hands in my pockets. “They’re perfect. Thank you.”

  She wraps me in a hug while my grin stretches my cheeks. She smells like the flowers we stand in.

  Falling to my knees, I weep as I curse my God.

  How could you take her from me?

  I know I’m going to regret my disobedience tonight. The pain from my lashings and the intense need for food have once again consumed by body. I don’t know how I’m going to handle the steps to the porch much less more of my father’s beatings. I just can’t stop staring out of this fence, as if there’s a chance of her appearing.

  “Hey…are you okay?”

  I jump at the unexpected voice and turn to see Benji Johnson. He moves to sit against the fence next to me.

  “I can’t believe he really sent her out there.” Shaking my head, I can hear the tears in my own voice. “What if they hurt her?”

  His expression softens with a small smile. “She’s strong. I have no doubt she can take care of herself.”

  My anger may be misplaced, it just feels like I’m the only one who understands we will never see her again. Do they not realize that she’s gone not only in this life, but the one after?

  “She’s your fucking kin, Benji! How can you not be more upset about this?!”

  He ignores my outburst, resting his head against the fence. “She’s only my second cousin, no more kin than most people. And I am upset; she was my friend too. If I could have done anything to stop it, I would have.”

  The inevitable guilt for snapping at him seeps over me, and I wipe my hands across my face. “I’m sorry. I know you care about her. I’m angry at Zaaron and my father, not you.”

  His head tilts as he wraps his arms around his knees. “How is this the Prophet’s fault? He’s only obeying Zaaron.”

  I’d been unknowingly clenching my jaw so I force myself to relax. “He didn’t have to! Zaaron makes it clear that the penance for sin is a cleansing, yet the members of my family don’t get a quarter of the cleansings they should. He could have chosen to make his own decision. He could have kept her here.”

  Looking lost in thought, he stares toward the common ground. “Would you have? When you become Prophet, will you obey everything Zaaron tells you?”

  It’s hard for me to admit to even myself that I don’t possess the desire to be Prophet. I don’t want to spend my life being Zaaron’s henchman.

  Standing, I brush the dirt from my trousers. “I don’t know. I just know I’ll be a better Prophet than he is. I’ll rule with kindness, not cruelty.”

  He raises his eyebrows and quirks his mouth to the side as if struggling to believe me. “I hope you do. You’ll probably be the one leading us all to the Paradise Star.”

  My father reminds me of this fact quite frequently. I’ll be sixty-four years-old when the Abolition comes to pass and very likely, the final Prophet.

  “I better go, my father’s expecting me.”

  I struggle to make my way back to the ranch. I’m so hungry and tired that my bed and the possibility of food are the only things that keep my feet stepping in front of each other. I reach my porch steps, and I dread climbing them. I feel on the brink of collapsing.

  As I reach for the door, it swings open, and Sister Karen helps me inside. “Zebadiah, where have you been? I’ve been expecting you for over an hour.” My brothers and sisters si
t at the table, but I don’t look up to see which ones. She leads me to the washroom as quickly as I am able. “Your water will now be cold, and you must eat in the tub if you want food. Hiram will be back soon.”

  Every time my mothers speak of him there’s an underlying tone of fear. Like they’re walking on a frozen lake, and one wrong step will make them fall in.

  “I just…I just found out about Laurel Ann.”

  She holds my face in her hands and kisses my forehead before pulling my shredded shirt from my arms. Undoing my trousers, I unbutton and remove my torn union suit as she takes off my shoes. Once I’m nude, she helps me into the barely lukewarm bath.

  “I’ll be right back with some stew.”

  She hurries back into the hall, and I do my best to clean myself. Even with the water cool, it heals and washes away the dirt. When Sister Karen returns, she shoves a bowl in my hands and orders me to eat.

  With the first bite I feel relief in my stomach. Physically, I begin to revive as she washes my hair.

  After I’m clean, she retrieves the salve from the cabinet, and I wrap the towel around my waist, moving much quicker now. Her gentle fingers rub the medicine on my wounds. I groan from the sting, but I know that it will feel much better tomorrow. The jar clangs as she closes the lid.

  “Go to your room, and wait for your father.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She rushes by me to bring my empty stew bowl into the kitchen, patting my arm before I walk down the hall to my bedroom. I enter to be immediately greeted by Ezekiel, as if he’s been waiting for me.

  “Hey.”

  His voice is filled with pity, and it flames the already simmering fire. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me. I want him to be angry for me. For her. I go to the closet for a new pair of trousers and a shirt. Opening my dresser, I pull out a fresh union suit.

  “Did anyone even try to stop him?! Did anyone fight for her?”

  I drop the towel to step into my underclothes and pants. He scoffs, looking out the window before meeting my gaze. “What were we supposed to do, Zeb? None of us could have stopped it.”