by Charity B.
My friendship with Kaila has taught me a lot of things, one of them being that caring deeply about someone means it’s possible to waver between wanting to hug them and strangle them with your bare hands.
My room is the polar opposite of Kaila’s. Where hers is covered in completely pointless junk, like a hunk of wood that spells out ‘Love’, mine is only the necessities. Her bed is covered in a mountain of pillows, which she doesn’t even sleep on, while mine has a single pillow, linens, and a quilt. My walls are as bare as hers are cluttered, and my closet is modest and organized where hers is in a state of disarray with half of her grossly extensive wardrobe crumpled at the bottom. I don’t think she has seen a quarter of her clothes in over a year.
I kick my bedroom door closed behind me with my boot, toss the chips on my bed, place the glass of water on the nightstand, and yank open the drawer.
The first time I attempted a personal cleansing was a few months after I came to this dark, new world. Zaaron wasn’t done punishing me. To show Him how much I still desired His grace, I placed my hand on my foster mother’s stove. I had to go to the hospital though, so after that I began to use hot needles, metal hangers, and even tried one of Kaila’s cigarettes once—anything to melt away the sin. Over time, I learned how to care for the burns and make sure they don’t get infected.
Now I use a small, metal bookmark. It’s roughly an inch and a half long, a quarter inch thick, and curves at the top to save your place when reading. I lay it next to the water to pull out my small, hand-held torch. Picking up a handkerchief, I place it inside the glass of water until it is entirely submerged, ready to cool my skin once I’m finished.
When Kaila learned I was doing this, she got extremely angry. It took a while for her to comprehend why I needed it. Eventually, she began to soften and understand, suggesting I do them in some sort of design so I’m not covered in random scars. She was right. Putting them in an orderly fashion not only is more aesthetically pleasing, but allows for more markings in a smaller area.
I pull off my left boot and stocking to inspect the space on my ankle. The long, straight scars lay at a forty-five-degree angle, one right after the other, creating a ring of lines all the way around. I have a completed ring on my right ankle and right wrist, two on my left wrist, and I’m finishing the second circle on my left ankle. The second ring is tilted the opposite way from the one beneath it, creating an arrowed, zigzag effect. I don’t want to do it next to my most recent mark with it still being tender, so I position myself to reach the space on the opposite end.
I press the button on the torch and hold the long end of the bookmark beneath the flame.
Cleanse me of this evil.
Cleanse me of this sin.
Let your fire burn from within.
I repeat the words in my mind. Over and over, faster and faster, as if the more I say it, the more likely He will answer my plea. The metal burns bright when I press it to my flesh. The smell of burning transgressions fills my room while the popping sound of the melting epidermis comforts me, regardless of the tears streaming down my face. The familiar pain sears through my leg, and I whisper my prayer through my groan.
Tap, tap, tap.
I look up at the sound. My door creaks open and Kaila pops her head in. “Hey, do you need anything?”
Removing the metal from my ankle, I shake my head. “No. I’m finished. How was your day?”
I don’t know how to tell her about Zeb. She’s never been keen on the compound. I want to get her talking about herself, which isn’t exactly difficult, until I can figure out what in the world I’m going to do.
I press the wet handkerchief against the fresh burn, and relief washes over me. As I place the bookmark on the nightstand to cool, she sits on the bed.
“It was good. Brently took me out shooting cans, and we saw a movie. How about you? Was Cameron pissed you were late?”
I avoid her russet eyes, pulling my stocking and boot back on. “It was fine, and yes, he said it’s my last warning. Did you happen to get any food today?”
“I ordered a pizza.” I stop myself from complaining about the junk food and place the torch and bookmark back in the drawer. She plops backward on the bed, ripping open the bag of apple chips. “That’s it? You usually love to bitch about Cameron.”
I knew I wouldn’t be able to be around her long without spilling. She does that to me. It’s as if she can suck my feelings right out. I lie down next to her, and we both look at my asbestos ridden ceiling while she munches on the chips. “Someone came into the butcher shop today...”
“You know I don’t do guessing games.”
The flutter in my stomach at the mere thought of his name ignites a smile across my lips.
“Zebadiah.”
She flies up to an elbow, and at any moment her eyes are going to pop out and roll onto the bed. “Like the Zebadiah?! As in your religious Romeo?”
I snort. “Stop.”
“So, what happened?! What did the sanctified stud say?”
I groan before I get up to head downstairs, but she’s right beside me with a mouth full of chips, her hair bouncing all the way down the steps.
“I’m not telling you anything until you can be serious.”
She follows me into the kitchen and jumps up on the counter while I search for something appetizing to eat. I glare at her when she tosses the empty chip bag in the sink and open the refrigerator.
“I am being serious. You’ve never liked a single guy besides this holy hunk.” She claps her hands together, fluttering her eyelashes. “He’s your spiritual sweetheart.”
My eyes can’t roll any harder. “Okay, you’re done.”
There’s nothing to eat in this house, leaving me with the pizza. I pull it out from under the leftover Chinese food and ignore her amusing herself.
“For real, what happened?”
I take a big bite of the cold pizza as if speaking with a full mouth will make the words easier. “He wants me to come back.”
All traces of humor are gone. She knows how much I’ve desired this, though neither of us ever thought it was an actual possibility. Kind of like her winning one of the talent shows she watches on TV.
“I thought you could never go back. Isn’t that what excommunication means?”
“It does.” I swallow my bite and wipe my mouth on a napkin. “I don’t know what he’s thinking. He’s changed a lot… He asked me if it’s still what I wanted. He’ll be here next week to talk about it.”
She points to the floor. “Here? He’s coming to our house?”
I shrug. “That’s what he said.”
She jumps off the counter, takes the cigarette pack out of her purse, and sits at the table, before lighting a cigarette. “What did you say? When he asked you?”
I don’t want to hurt her, and I know my answer will. It’s not as if I’ve made up my mind, I just know that I’m being offered something I’ve wanted for half of my life.
“Kaila…”
She has only been angry at me once. We have our bicker fights that we end up forgetting what we’re fighting about halfway through, though she’s only been honest to goodness angry at me once. It was over a dirty jerk who treated her terribly, and she, for whatever reason, was head over heels for him. I didn’t go about it the right way, but she wouldn’t listen to me when I told her he was a disloyal liar. I took it upon myself to prove it to her. I set it up so she would catch him kissing me. That’s the only Philistine boy I ever kissed, and the only time she has ever looked at me like she is now.
“Yeah.”
She walks into the living room, and I follow her. What do I say to make her understand? “You know this is what I’ve always wanted. If you got the opportunity to go to California and be famous, I would want you to go.”
She scoffs and falls onto the couch. “If I went to Cali, I’d take your ass with me.” Her head whips back to me as she glares. “Not to mention I wouldn’t be forbidden to leave or to see you. I g
et that you miss your family, but you’re just ready to leave me behind forever, without a second thought, to go back to a cult that controls you.”
I suck in a breath from the heated pang in my chest. When I started school in Hobart, I was completely shocked to learn the people in the town were aware of the Anointed Land. None of them had ever seen it, of course. Kaila and I kept my being from there a secret, but I heard the derogatory way they spoke of my home—like we’re all crazy and stupid.
“You know how I feel about that word.”
“It’s what it is, Laur! I’ve tried to keep my opinions to myself because I know you care about that place, but it’s all bullshit! I mean come on, nobody has even heard of this Zaaron douchebag. Don’t you think if he was ‘God’ people would know about it?”
“That’s blasphemy! Do not speak that way in front of me! And you don’t know about Him because you are a Philistine!”
She has never blatantly spoken against my beliefs or my God. While she may have been angry with me before, this is the first time I’ve had the desire for her to leave. I don’t like the mix of hurt and fury I feel for her right now. She can joke about my clothes and the things she doesn’t understand, however, outright degrading His name I cannot tolerate. What hurts the most is she knows that. That’s why she said it.
“That’s all I’ve ever been to you, isn’t it? A ‘Philistine’. You’ve always thought you were better than me, but you’re not. You’re just brainwashed.” She gets back off the couch, storming toward the stairs. “So, you know what? Go back to the family that forced you into a marriage at thirteen to a man three times your age. That when you tried to tell them you didn’t want to be fucking raped, sent you into a world they taught you to fear. Just go, because for the life of me, I don’t understand why you would ever want that over freedom and someone who loves you more than a sister.”
She pounds harder with each wooden step until the force of her door slamming knocks the tears from my eyes. She’s wrong. I don’t think of her that way, not really. I love her too, and leaving her would be heartbreaking for me. Yes, I want to see my family. I miss Zeb and want to be surrounded by those with like values. Mostly though, I want to make it to the Paradise Star and protect my soul from Hell. She can’t understand because she doesn’t have beliefs. At least not ones she takes seriously. I grab her pillow that’s shaped like a tube of pink lipstick and weep into it. I don’t know what to do. I always thought if I was ever given this opportunity, it wouldn’t be a choice.
Are you testing me? You know how much she means to me.
I don’t think I’ll be able to make a clear decision until after I talk to Zebadiah, and I can’t think with this going on between me and Kaila. I need her to know what she means to me. That she’s the only reason I haven’t gone crazy in this world.
She really loves chocolate chip cookies, and miraculously, we have all the ingredients I need. Well, besides the extra egg and the chocolate chips. I luckily find quite a few snickers in our old Halloween and Christmas candy. Out of all the Philistine holiday traditions, those two are my favorite. I mash up the candy into a bowl before mixing them into the batter.
While they are baking, I pull out the bottles of vodka, Baileys, and Kahlua. We may barely have any food in the house, yet somehow there’s always a full supply of alcohol. I pour it all into the blender with some milk and ice. I’ll confess that the blender is a fantastic device. It can shred, chop, or liquefy just about anything in a matter of moments.
I pour the drink into a pink, plastic cup we got from the Wal-Mart once I remove the cookies from the oven. They are gooey, almost falling apart when I place them on a plastic plate to carry both items up the stairs.
Her music is loud through the door as I tap it with my foot. “Kaila? Can we talk?” I wait until she doesn’t respond to add, “I have cookies and a mudslide.”
One breath later, the door swings open and she yanks the treats from my hand. I follow her without invitation and wait until she has a mouth full of cookies.
I still have no words chosen, though I pray Zaaron will show them to me.
As she slurps on the mudslide, her inability to speak gives me courage. “You are the only reason I haven’t made up my mind. You are much more than a friend to me, Kaila. You have been my storm shelter in this place. I have never fit in here, and while it is surely not what I imagined, there is still so much sin. It’s become easier to deal with over the years, and that terrifies me. I don’t want to burn in Hell. I want to spend eternity with my family in the Paradise Star. I can’t do that outside of the Anointed Land.”
Her shoulders slack, and her eyebrows relax. “I don’t want to be disrespectful to your beliefs. You know I’ve always tried to support you, but listen to what you’re saying. Everyone in the entire world, besides the few hundred people who live within those three-square miles of Oklahoma are going to burn in Hell forever?” She shrugs. “I’m just sayin’. It’s going to get crowded.”
It hurts terribly to know that her soul will suffer such agony when the world ends, and I wish more than anything I could save it.
“Zaaron gave your ancestors a chance to follow Him. He asked them to give up their wickedness and live under His grace in the Anointed Land. They were warned that they were dooming the souls of their children and their children’s children, yet they mocked Him. They sealed their fate and yours by doing so.”
“So even if I wanted to join this…family of yours, I can’t, and my eternal existence is still fucked?”
My skin goes rigid as my heart skips a beat. I never entertained the idea of bringing her with me. Zeb is the Prophet now. If she is willing to follow spiritual law…
“You would do that? You would leave all of this to live a life of purity with me?”
She shoves another cookie in her mouth. “Fuck no.”
I huff. There goes that. “I don’t know what to do. I feel lost without my God, without my family, without Zebadiah. But I would feel lost without you, too. I’ve lived each half of my life in opposing worlds. I’m scared for my soul, and honestly, I’m a little scared to go back. I need you through this.” I let out a big breath. “I am asking you to support whatever choice I make.”
She pushes off the bed. “I really do want you to be happy. That’s all I want for both of us. I had just hoped it would be together.” She walks over to me, embracing me against her short frame. “I will back you up, no matter what.” Pushing off me, she spins around and flops back on the bed. “But only because you make a killer mudslide.”
TODAY IS THE DAY.
Zebadiah will be at my house within the next three hours. The entire week, Kaila has been not so subtly reminding me of all the wonderful things that make up the Philistine world, while unintentionally just enforcing all of the darkness. I barely slept an hour last night. I’ve been feverishly cleaning all week, and last night I went over everything for a touch up. I’m not sure if I’m nervous or excited or a hybrid of both, but the man at the counter has had to repeat his order twice already.
“I apologize, sir. I have three pounds of flank steak, two pounds ground lamb, five pounds boneless pork butt, and eight pounds prime rib roast?”
He sighs. “Four pounds of ground lamb.”
“Right. Give me about ten minutes.”
“I’m obviously in no hurry,” he grumbles at my back.
Make it twenty minutes.
I slip the last wrapped pieces of the man’s order into a Sturgis Country Meats bag as Cameron walks out from the meat locker.
“I don’t know where your head has been today. If you can keep it on long enough to clean the slicer before you go, I would appreciate it.”
I nod and internally mimic him. Maybe if he wouldn’t be so passive aggressive, he would have a girlfriend by now.
Once the slicer is clean, I mop the floor behind the counter and clock out. The weather is lovely, not too hot or cold. I run as fast as my lungs will allow, rushing home to make sure everything is i
n order by the time he arrives. Kaila got off work two hours ago, and I pray she hasn’t destroyed the house.
The living room is still clean, and whatever dishes Kaila used in the kitchen have thankfully been put away.
Zeb’s favorite pie is apple, and I’m going to make him one. The thought of baking something just for him gives me a thrill. I melt the butter before I preheat the oven, adding in the flour and sugar mixture. I use the Granny Smith apples, hoping he likes the tanginess they provide, and I admire my perfect lattice work once I drizzle the filling into the holes.
My skin sings at the removal of my jacket, and I run up the stairs to shower. I don’t want to smell like raw meat when he arrives.
“Fuck, yes! Oh my God, fuck me, Brently! Yes!”
Kaila’s moans float through her closed door, and while they are nothing new, this can’t be happening when Zeb gets here. In fact, Brently needs to be gone altogether.
I hurry through my shower, taking a little extra time on my hair. Wrapping myself in a towel, I rush to my room and pick out my clothes. I’ve narrowed it down to three dresses I think he’ll like, but I can’t decide. I need to make sure the nastiness going on down the hall is wrapping up anyway, so after throwing on my sweater and night dress, I march to her room, and pound on the wood to ensure I am heard above her moans.
Swinging open her door, she greets me in the nude. “Ugh, Kaila!” I look away, making the mistake of choosing the bed to land my eyes. Brently is sprawled out on her blanket, his erection pointed straight to the ceiling. His stare meets mine before he smirks and wraps his hand around his cock, sliding it up and down. I spin around, putting my back to the both of them. “Zeb is going to be here soon, and I need your help with my clothes. Also, you’re going to make him uncomfortable enough, I don’t think Brently would help the situation.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to make his royal righteousness uncomfortable in my own damn house.”
I roll my eyes so hard I feel it in my temples. “Will you please put some clothes on? I’d like to talk to you.”
