by Charity B.
“There are many cuts and tears as well as a number of splinters that needed removed, though the bleeding has slowed.” She looks between us with sorrow in her eyes as her shoulders slump. “This was Brother Jameson, wasn’t it?”
I nod before I consider I’m betraying Benji, but to my relief she just sighs. “That was my assumption.”
“Is he okay?” I can’t tell if Zeke sounds sad or angry. If he’s feeling anything like I am, it’s both.
Reaching into her apron pocket, she removes a stack of thin cloths. “I gave him some laudanum, and it would appear he’s getting around easier. Since this is to remain between us, I am trusting you two to keep an eye on him for any sign of infection–vomiting, fever, fatigue, or if the pain doesn’t recede.” She places the cloths in my hand. “These should last him until the bleeding stops.”
The door behind her opens as Benji walks out in clean clothes and wet hair. Shoving the cloths in my back pocket, I rush to assist him.
He holds up a hand to stop me. “I’m fine. Let’s just go.” He turns to Sister Madeline. “Thank you…for everything.”
She gives him a small smile, placing her hand on his back. “Now, come along. My husband will be returning soon.”
Leading us out the back exit, she gives us one last smile before shutting the door behind us. Benji is standing straighter, and though he’s still going slowly, he’s moving much faster than he was.
“It’s dark enough now that we shouldn’t be seen. Follow me.”
Ezekiel looks at me, and I shrug as I trudge behind Benji. Just as we’re about to reach the large fence surrounding the compound, he drops to the ground. Brushing away dirt and sticks, he reveals a large, wooden cellar door. He takes a key from his shoe to unlock the lock.
“Give me a hand with this.”
I kneel next to him. “Nobody else knows about this?”
“No.”
I pull back until the door hits the ground with a thud. Benji turns around, slowly climbing down into what looks like a black hole.
Within moments, I hear the snick of a match as light shines up from the ground. I look down to see him holding an oil lamp. A ladder leads into the cellar, so I do as he did and climb down. I can’t believe this place. I stare around in awe. The craftsmanship is not only impressive, it’s amazing that he was able to do it alone while keeping it a secret. Thick pieces of wood line the walls in panels to keep the hole from falling in on itself. There’s even a mattress at the opposite end of the space.
“Close the door behind you,” Benji tells Ezekiel as he climbs down.
Jumping off the last step, Zeke asks, “How long have you had this place?”
Benji takes tentative steps to the back of the room, careful to sit on his hip as he lies on the far side of the mattress, leaving enough room for me and Ezekiel. “A couple of years.”
As I sit next to Benji, Zeke scoots next to me and says, “It’s remarkable.”
The silence between us is making the already small room suffocating; I can no longer keep the questions inside.
“What happened, Benji?” The visions of earlier in the day assault me. “Why the hell would he do that to you?” He blows the air through his nose and shakes his head. I add, “You can trust us. I swear, whatever you tell us won’t leave this place.” I look to my brother. “Right, Zeke?”
He nods at Benji. “I swear.”
Leaning against the wooden wall, he drops his head, releasing a long sigh. “There’s a…guy.” His voice strains over the last word. “I won’t tell you who, so let’s just call him my ‘friend’. At first that’s exactly what it was, a friendship.” Shifting around, he winces, clearly still in a lot of pain. “Then about a year and a half ago, I realized I desired him…in a way a man shouldn’t desire another man.”
He refuses to look at us, keeping his stare on his feet. My mind spins, and my stomach twists. Brother Jameson was right.
“I learned the feeling was mutual, and eventually, I laid with him.” A small smile peeks through his pained expression.
I want to look at Zeke’s reaction, but I don’t want Benji to stop talking to us, though I now have a good idea of what happened.
“We’ve kept it a secret ever since.” He clenches his jaw as his hands clutch the mattress between his fingers. “We were careful. We’re rarely seen together in public, and we never meet at the same time or place. Today my father was supposed to be at the common ground, making his delivery, so we planned to meet in my barn.” The tears roll down his cheeks as his words become strained. “He returned much sooner than he should have and found us in the barn while I was…on my knees…sucking him.” He sounds repulsed at himself. I force my mouth closed and attempt to keep my eyes from widening at the mental image I’m trying not to picture. “I’ve never seen him that angry. He told us to get dressed and to wait for him …” More tears fall as he wipes them feverishly and whispers, “I wish I would have made my friend leave. He was terrified, and it was all my fault.” Ripping a string off the mattress, he sighs. “When my father returned, it was with my little sister, Serah. He told me he was going to ‘purge the perversion’. I didn’t understand until he took off her clothes and told me to do the same. He said I needed to be with a woman, and since Serah is the eldest having yet to receive the blood, there was no chance of impregnation.” Now, I do look at Zeke, and he’s paled even in the yellow light of the lamp. Benji’s sobs force my attention back to him. “I couldn’t do it…physically. I wasn’t able to get myself to…” he gestures to his lap, “you know. He tried making her do a few things to me, and nothing helped.” He rips at his hair, and I place my hand on his back as he rocks. “She did everything he told her to because she’s a good girl and just wanted to be obedient. But I saw her eyes…she’s fucking terrified of me now.” His shoulders heave, and I wait for him to scream at any moment as I watch his anger rise to the surface. “My friend sat there, watching all of it until finally my father made them both leave, taking matters into his own hands.” He tilts his head, though not enough to look at me. “You arrived shortly after that.” Finally, he lifts his gaze to us, his eyes glistening with moisture. “And here we are.”
Zeke and I are both shocked into silence. I don’t think either of us knows what to say at this point. My brain feels like it’s going through a meat grinder. Brother Jameson can’t just get away with this, and now, I’m worried about Serah. She’s probably scared and confused. I fear for her safety with a man that could do this to his children. And what about when she gets bound? She won’t be pure for her husband. If that fact comes out, she will be punished as an adulteress while the true evil remains to fester.
What I do know is Benji has to stop what he’s doing. He can’t get caught again.
“You’re not going to see him again, are you? Your ‘friend’? Please promise me you’re done doing that, Benji.”
He scoffs, and I think I’ve angered him when his face suddenly falls passive. “Yeah, well, you don’t have to worry about that. I saw the way he looked at me. We’re done.” He’s completely heartbroken over…whoever he is. I hate that he’s in pain, but what he desires is a sin.
Nodding to the ladder, he says, “You guys don’t have to stay here with me. I’m sure the Prophet will be wondering where you are.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Sister Madeline said we need to watch out for infection.” I move further back on the bed and look to Zeke. “Go home. We need to get the buggy back anyway. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
He hesitates before dropping his shoulders to relent. Scooting to the edge of the mattress, he looks at Benji.
“I’m really sorry. You need to know you didn’t deserve it.”
Benji simply nods. Giving me one last glance, Zeke climbs the ladder, closing the cellar door behind him.
I blow out a large breath from my lips. “I really think you should get some sleep.”
He shifts himself into a lying position, leaving enough room for me at the end of the bed. “Do you
think I’m a disgusting sodomite now?”
“No, of course I don’t. I think you sinned and paid well beyond your penance for it.”
His father, however, has many sins yet to answer for.
I TAP MY FINGER ON my thigh, continuously stealing glances at Serah Johnson while my father gives his sermon. She rarely looks up from the ground since what happened a couple weeks ago.
I’ve made sure to make my presence known at least once a day at the Johnson house until I figure out how to handle Brother Jameson. I’m sure he’s less likely to do anything when he knows I might be around.
Benji seems to be handling what happened really well besides the fact that he refuses to talk about it. He just wants to forget it ever happened. I can’t forget it though. I won’t ever get the image of that pitchfork out of my mind. I’ve tried to talk to Serah a few times to see how she’s doing. She has no idea that I know, and she’s still less responsive to my questions every time I approach her.
Finally, my father makes his closing statements, and once he says, “May the holy fire of Zaaron cleanse you,” I’m out of my seat, bee-lining for Serah.
I catch up with her in the common ground standing by herself while everyone else in her family is enjoying their individual conversations.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I walk up next to her. “Hi, Serah. Your dress is pretty. Is it new?”
She nods and whispers, “Hi.” Her eyes still locked on the dirt.
“How are your lessons coming?” It’s a stupid question, but I just want her to talk to me. I need to know she’s going to be okay. I think if Laurel Ann were here, she’d know what to say.
“Fine.”
I sigh, looking up to see Benji making his way toward us. He looks down at Serah as if she’s crushing him from the inside out.
“Hey, cricket.” He wraps her in a side hug, and she stiffens, causing him to drop his arm and look away before addressing me. “Hi, Zeb.”
“Hey, Benji.”
There hasn’t been a gathering since it happened, and I’m counting down the days until the next one, so I can ask Zaaron why he would allow this to happen to Serah and Benji. Why he would let such an evil man like Jameson Johnson remain inside the gates of the Anointed Land, yet he would cast out Laurel Ann?
I’ve only had the chance to talk to Zaaron once, and I wasn’t at all prepared. The last gathering was my first as an adult, and it was the most incredible experience I have ever encountered. While I wasn’t able to hear His voice, I did feel His touch. I had no idea we had that ability.
I glance to my father who is gesturing for me to come to him. I look down at Serah and bend over to be at eye level with her.
“Sometimes it’s hard to talk to our families about things. If you’re sad and want to talk to someone, I happen to know Sister Madeline Adams is a great listener. She’s the best at keeping secrets.”
She doesn’t respond or look up from her feet. I sigh, patting Benji on the back before I walk to my father. He’s speaking with Brother Benjamin Henderson, and I wonder if he thinks about Laurel Ann with the frequency I do. I partially blame him for her being sent away, even though I know that’s completely unfair. It would have happened regardless.
My father holds his hand out to me as if he hadn’t beaten me with it this morning. “Ah, the future Prophet. Come here, my son.”
I do my best to conceal my grimace and hold my hand out to Laurel Ann’s father. “Blessed day, Brother Benjamin.”
He shakes my hand. “Yes, blessed day, my boy.”
“Brother Benjamin’s youngest has been very sick this past week, and Doc Kilmer is at a loss. I will be laying hands on her after we leave here, and I would like you to accompany me.”
It almost makes me laugh how he says it like I have a choice. “Yes, Father.”
He yanks on his ear before wiping his lip and clapping his hands together. “Wonderful. We will make our way over whenever you’re ready.”
Brother Benjamin bows his head. “I praise Zaaron for your holy graciousness.”
I hate going to the Henderson farm. Waking up every morning knowing I have to go another day without seeing her is bad enough. Being inside her family home will rip the scab off of the never healing wound.
The sun is climbing its way up the sky as I kick a rock across the Johnson’s yard. I don’t even make it to the porch when Benji busts through the front door.
“Serah!” he calls. Pounding down the wooden steps, he searches frantically in every direction. “Serah! Where are you?!”
The shrill panic in his voice sends a coldness through me, and I run to meet him. “Benji! Wait! What’s going on?”
“My mothers can’t find Serah anywhere.” I have to jog to keep up with him. “Her bed hasn’t been slept in, and she’s going to be late for school.”
“Serah!”
He runs to the greenhouse when I tell him, “I’ll check the barn.”
Yelling her name again is his only response. I sprint across the yard and yank open the heavy, wooden door.
Little boots suspended in the air are the first things my eyes land on before traveling up to the young girl hanging from the rafters. A rope is around her neck, her vacant eyes staring into the abyss.
My vision obscures, and my head spins as I brace myself against a hay bale. I heave and gag until I hear Benji calling for her behind me. I meet him right in front of the barn, and when he sees my face, he shakes his head and lunges to go inside.
Grabbing his arms, I pull him back, doing anything I can to keep him from seeing her. “No, no, no! Don’t go in there, Benji!”
His strength and determination outweigh mine, and he breaks free to bust through the doors.
“SERAH!” He runs up to the loft before he grasps for the rope. “Fuck, Serah, what did you do?!” He pulls her up and removes the rope from her neck, falling to the floor with her in his lap. He attempts to revive her, but from the color of her skin, she hasn’t been alive for hours. “I’m sorry, cricket. I’m so sorry.” He squeezes her to his chest, rocking and wailing into her hair.
“NO!” A feminine voice screams behind me.
My own tears are running down my cheeks when I turn to see Serah’s birth mother behind me. Rushing past me, she holds up her skirts to climb up to the loft. She howls in pain, falling to her knees as she arrives next to her dead child.
Desperate to get out of here, I back out of the barn and run.
I just keep going until I’m in the common ground in front of the death dealer’s shop. Banging on the door, I can’t keep my heart from beating out of my chest.
Dealer Gunter Adams swings open the door with a frown. “What is it, Brother Zebadiah?”
“There’s been…someone died…at the Johnson place.”
He grunts, turning to a work table and grabbing a bag before he brushes past me to the coffin shed. “Adult or child?”
I choke on my own words. “A child. It’s Serah Johnson.”
Serah didn’t get a soul releasing ceremony. Suicide is a one-way ticket to the pit, regardless if it’s man, woman, or child. They buried her outside of the gates, and nobody speaks of her. Everyone acts as if she never existed at all.
Benji has barely spoken a word to me since her death, and he refuses to talk to Zeke either. I know he blames himself, but why he isn’t making his father pay for this is what I don’t understand. I can barely look at the man without wanting to hit him until my wrists break—scream until my lungs burst.
I’ve been sitting on this hay bale for hours. My stomach rumbles in hunger, and my mouth is dry from thirst. I do my best to ignore my discomfort because I’m not moving until I do what I came here to do. I don’t know when Brother Jameson is coming back, and it doesn’t matter. I’ll be here waiting when he does.
I stare at the barn doors as I spin the pitchfork in my hand and look at the rafters. I can still see her little body hanging there.
The door creaks open, and I tense, wondering what I will sa
y if Benji catches me in here. Brother Jameson walks in, and when he sees me, his eyes narrow.
“Zebadiah Fitch? May I ask why you’re in my barn?”
Clenching the pitchfork in my hand, I stand to hold it out to him. “I’m here to make you pay for your sins.”
He laughs. The evil prick laughs and walks closer to me. “My sins? You’re exhibiting violence toward your elder. So, ask yourself, young man. Who between us is the one sinning?”
“Serah killed herself because of you. Benji was in pain for days because of what you did to him. These are your children. Zaaron gifted them to you to love, care for, and protect. Not to rape and abuse!”
“Zaaron also gave me the right to run my home as I see fit. My son is a sodomite. It was my duty to put an end to his perverse actions. And Serah made her own choices.”
Gripping the pitchfork, my palms are slick against the handle. I seethe, “She was barely over the age of understanding! Why involve her? She had nothing to do with it!”
“Serah was a tool given to me by Zaaron.”
How can he be so callous about the death of his own child? I barely knew her, and the very thought of her makes it difficult to breathe. “Your lack of remorse sickens me.”
“I will not weigh down my soul with the sins of my children.”
I didn’t come here with a plan. I thought he would show some sorrow, some pain. All I’m seeing is a man serving his own purpose, not Zaaron’s. He takes his next step, my fury over the fallout he caused, burning in a whirlwind up my body. Once it reaches my eyes, all I see are flames, and I lunge forward. I yell as if it will release the rage, but my movement is halted the moment the pitchfork pierces his stomach. Blood pools in his mouth, dripping over his lips and down his chin. His wide eyes move to his stomach before becoming vacant.
Instantly, what I have just done snaps me into reality like I was hit by my father’s locust tree whip.
I drop the pitchfork, and his body falls forward, the prongs stabbing deeper when he hits the ground.
Oh, Zaaron, please forgive me.
