I gritted my teeth.
I’d spent my whole life thinking that my father was my spiritual head, and that when he hit me, it was because I’d displeased God. I’d lain awake at night as a little boy, praying and begging for God to help me to be better.
But I never got better enough for him not to hit me.
And that was because it wasn’t God making my father put his hands on me or my mothers or my siblings. My father was making that decision all on his own.
But this community—these elders—they’d taught me that it was my fault that I was being abused. They’d blamed the victim, and they’d sanctioned it with religion.
The light was still red.
I beat my hands on the steering wheel.
I should never have let Abby stay there. I should have insisted that she leave. I should have gone into the community and dragged her out of there. Her life was in danger, and this stupid fucking light—
The light was still red.
But I didn’t care.
I hit the gas pedal anyway.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Abby
Gideon and the other elders came down the steps, each carrying a large kerosene lantern. They were all dressed in their suits, as if they were getting ready to go to meeting. They carried tarps, and they didn’t even acknowledge me.
Instead, they began spreading the tarps out around my body, layering them two or three layers deep.
“The blood will never come out of the concrete,” they said.
“Better be sure that we catch all of it,” they said.
I screamed.
Someone stuffed a handkerchief in my mouth.
Where was Jesse?
They fussed with the tarps for what seemed like a long time, and I kept hoping that it was going to be long enough. If Jesse was in Melville, then it would take him about fifteen minutes to drive to the community, and then maybe another five or seven to get to Gideon’s house. How long ago had I spoken to him on the phone? Was there enough time?
But then they stopped messing with the tarps, and they all formed a circle around me.
“Let’s bow our heads,” said Gideon.
Solemnly, they all did.
I screamed around the handkerchief. I struggled, straining against the handcuffs.
No one paid me any mind.
“Oh, Heavenly Father,” said Gideon, “bless this in our endeavors to please thee as thy humble and obedient children. We seek only to do thy will, no matter how hard it may seem to us. Our mind is not thy mind, Lord, and we sometimes struggle to see thy plan. But we understand that thou art bigger than us, and that thou seest all. So, when thou directeth us to sacrifice the physical body of thy servant Abigail Carrol, so that her soul can be received into thy bosom, we obey. For most, the shedding of thy own son’s blood is enough for the remission of sins, but it Abigail’s case, her blood must be shed as well. Praise thy holy name.”
“Praise thy holy name,” echoed the elders.
Gideon stepped forward and pulled the handkerchief out of my mouth. “Abigail Carrol, are you in there, or is it only the demon that speaks through your mouth?”
I screamed.
“The demon, then,” said Gideon.
“You are not a man of God, Gideon,” I spat at him. “It is your mouth that a demon speaks through.”
“Get behind me, Satan,” said Gideon.
I turned to the other elders. “Do you really think that God would want you to kill me?”
One or two of the elders averted their gaze, refusing to look me in the eyes.
“Thou shalt not kill!” I said, my voice hoarse.
“See how it twists the words of scripture to test us,” said Gideon. “We must not give in, brothers. We must hold fast to our faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.”
The faces of the elders hardened.
“No,” I said. “No, please.”
Gideon took a knife out of a sheath on his belt. He held it in my face. “You will be purified.”
* * *
Jesse
“What are you doing?” said Bonnie Kelby. She was only fifteen, and the last time I’d seen her, she and a bunch of other girls had been giggling together outside meeting.
I pushed past her into Gideon’s house. “Why are you here?” I started down the hallway.
“I live here.” She walked after me. “I’m married to Gideon. And you were kicked out. You’re not supposed to be here.”
I laughed wildly. How could she be so sanctimonious when her husband was trying to commit ritual murder downstairs? “Where’s the basement?”
“You can’t be in here.” She caught up to me and grabbed onto my sleeve, trying to pull me back towards the door.
I shook her off. I fixed my gaze on her, boring my eyes into hers. When I spoke, my voice was deadly serious. “Basement, Bonnie.”
She shrank from me. “Through the kitchen, through the kitchen. Don’t hurt me.”
I turned away from Bonnie and stalked down the hall. I could see the kitchen at the end.
Once inside, I scanned the room, which was dark and silent. I could barely make out the orange tile, the gas stove, the framed bible verses hanging over the table.
There. A door.
I went for it.
And Susannah darted out from the corner, where she’d been hiding in the shadows. “Jesse,” she whispered frantically. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do it myself, but I got the key.”
What the hell was she talking about?
She grabbed my hand and pried it open, placing a small silver key in my palm. “For the handcuffs. So you can get her free. I’m sorry I couldn’t do it myself. I’m sorry.”
I looked down at the key, confused. “Susannah…”
But she was already fleeing, running through the house away from me, not even bothering to look back.
I shoved the key inside my pocket.
Then I threw open the door.
A set of stairs descended down into the basement.
I started down them, going as fast as I could.
Gideon’s voice rang out from below. “The girl has called out to her demon lover! Stop him.”
Two of the elders rushed to the bottom of the steps.
“Now, look here, son,” said one.
I leapt down the rest of the stairs, raising my fist. When I landed, I buried it in his face. Bones cracked as my hand suck into him.
He let out a strangled shriek and backed away from me, hands going to his face.
The other elder stared at his companion in horror. He started to back up too.
But I didn’t let that stop me. I snatched him by the collar and drove an uppercut into his chin.
I let go of him.
He stumbled.
I punched him again.
He fell down.
Turning, I faced the rest of the basement. This felt good. This felt right. The rage was inside me, fully unfurled. I felt alive and electric. I grinned out at the others there, daring them to challenge me.
Three of the other elders scattered, backing further into the basement.
But Bob Carroll stood directly in front of Abby, who was chained to a poll.
And Gideon stood behind her, holding a blade that winked and glinted in the scant light of the kerosene lanterns.
“He is a servant of the devil,” said Gideon, pointing his knife at me. “He seeks to destroy the work of God.”
Bob was staring at me. “You. You’re the one who corrupted my Abby. You’re the one who destroyed her virtue.”
That set me off. “Me? How many times have you raped her, Bob? You hurt her. She never wanted you, and you manipulated her by using her faith. You’re the worst kind of—”
Bob cut me off with a howl and launched himself at me. “Tempted her, you spawn of Satan.”
I grinned. Good. I’d fantasized about beating Bob up. Let him come for me.
Bob moved fast for an old man. I didn’t see the first punch coming.
I took a step back, momentarily stunned.
Bob punched me again, solidly connecting with my jaw.
But if he thought that was going to stop me, he was crazy. I’d been taking punches since I was a little boy. Father had trained me too well.
I punched back, raining blows on Bob. His midsection. His chest. His face. I drove my knuckles into his nose and heard a satisfying crunch.
“You never should have touched her!” I screamed at him, and I kept hitting him.
At first, Bob tried to fight back. But I kept coming, and now he was bleeding. His lip was split. His nose was gushing. He wasn’t steady on his feet. So now he just held up his hands to ward me off.
Every punch I landed on him made him look more and more like a defenseless old man.
And the more helpless he looked, the more the rage in me seemed to surge. I wanted to destroy him.
Bob stumbled.
I kicked him, knocking him off his feet. “You never should have touched her.”
Bob hit the floor hard. He backed away from me.
I kicked him again. And again.
There seemed to be nothing more satisfying than the sole of my shoe making contact against his flesh. I didn’t want to stop. Ever.
“Jesse,” whispered Abby.
I looked up at her.
“You are evil,” said Gideon. “See now how the demon controlling you makes you violent.”
I snorted, glaring at Gideon. “Funny that. When my father was beating me like this, he was doing the will of God.”
“I will cast you out, evil spirit. You have no power over the faithful.”
I took a step towards Gideon.
“In the name of God the father, of Jesus Christ, his only begotten son, and of the holy spirit, I command that you obey,” said Gideon.
I took another step.
Gideon held up his knife. “I command you, evil spirit. In the name of the most holy God, I command you—”
I snatched his wrist and twisted.
He dropped the knife.
“Maybe God’s not answering,” I said. “Maybe he realized you’re nothing but a power-hungry jackass using his name for evil. Or maybe he was never there at all.”
Gideon’s face twisted. “Don’t hurt me. Please, don’t hurt me. Don’t hit me like you hit the other—”
I hit him. I punched him in the stomach.
His eyes widened, and he doubled over on himself.
I raised my fist again.
“Jesse,” said Abby. “Don’t. It’s enough.”
“I need to do this,” I said, not looking at her. “Besides, I don’t think I can stop.”
“You can stop,” she said. “You can.”
I turned to look at her.
She pleaded me with her eyes.
I turned back to Gideon. “You’re pathetic.”
He cringed.
And then I took the key to the handcuffs out of my pocket and set Abby free.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Abby
We staggered up the steps with Gideon on our heels.
“You are dead to the spirit,” he screamed after us. “You will burn in Hell for all eternity, wailing and gnashing your teeth. You are evil and sinful, you children of perdition.”
Jesse gripped my hand tightly and dragged me through Gideon’s house.
Gideon’s wives all stood in the kitchen, staring at us with wide eyes.
Susannah was crying. She wouldn’t meet my gaze.
We didn’t stop to look at them. We rushed down the hallway and burst out the front door into the night.
Jesse’s truck was parked sideways in the driveway. The driver’s side door was still open.
Gideon stood in the doorway, yelling after us. “You will never see the face of God. You will perish alone and be shut away from his glory! You are headed to eternal torment!”
Jesse turned and gave him a nasty smile. Then he raised his middle finger.
I gulped.
Jesse pushed me into the truck, and I climbed over the driver’s seat to the passenger’s.
He got in after me and slammed the door shut. He took his phone out of his pocket and began scrolling through it.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“Hand me the cord to plug it in,” he said.
Confused, I did.
He plugged the phone into the car’s stereo and turned up the volume.
Suddenly, the speakers began blaring a loud electric guitar riff.
“What is this?” I yelled.
He laughed, putting the car in gear. “AC/DC.” He rolled down the windows on the truck. “‘Highway to Hell.’”
We blasted out of the community, the lead singer of the band screaming over the guitars and drums. I looked out the window as members of the community poured out of their houses to look at us going past, shocked looks on their faces.
And suddenly, staring at all the stunned faces of the community, I realized how small they looked. Up here in this truck, the power of the music surging around us, I felt big.
I grasped the gold band that Bob had slipped on my finger when he and I got married. I tore it off, and I hurled it out the window.
It bounced against the pavement, behind us.
And I let out a noise—something between a shriek and a whoop.
I was free.
Jesse punched the ceiling of the truck. “Don’t stop me,” he yelled along with the music.
I craned my neck back, and I watched the community fade into the distance.
* * *
“Where are we going?” I asked Jesse. We had packed up all of his possessions at his apartment, and he’d settled up with his landlord. Now we were in the truck, driving out of Melville. It was midmorning, and the Texas winter sun burned bright and cool through the windshield.
“I’ve got some friends who have a ranch,” he said. “It’s different there, but you’ll like it if you give it time.”
I hugged myself. Last night, when we burst out of the community with a trail of music, triumphant, I’d only felt free and excited. Afterward, when Jesse and I made love in his bed, both clinging to each other as if we were afraid the other was going to vanish into mist, I’d felt lucky and loved.
But now, I had to admit that I was afraid.
Jesse’s hand snaked across the truck to find mine. He squeezed my fingers. “Hey. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”
I knew that. But I’d never really been out in the world before. I’d never known worldly people. And I had no idea what to expect.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
He squeezed my hand again. “Me too, a little.”
“But you’ve been out for months. You know everything about how to survive out here.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, not everything. Not really. These people we’re going to, though? They’re the only people who really helped me. They accepted me with no conditions, and they were kind and good to me. They’ll be good to you too. But I still don’t know everything there is to know about the world. And I have no idea what it’ll be like with you there too.”
“You think they won’t want me there?” After all, I was adulteress. I’d run off with Jesse, leaving my husband. What would they think of me for doing that?
“They know you’re coming. Don’t worry about that.” He turned to look at me, offering me a small smile. “We’re going to have to take each day as it comes, Abby. But one thing I’m sure of. After everything we’ve been through, there’s nothing we can’t do.”
I bit my lip, tears coming to my eyes. “I hope so.”
“I know so,” he said. “And I love you.”
“I love you too.” And I wiped the tears away from my cheek.
* * *
Jesse
Abby hardly said two words for hours after we arrived at the ranch. She smiled at River, and she
responded by nodding or shaking her head when he asked her questions. But mostly, she clung to me, waiting for me to answer when questions were asked.
I’d hoped the ranch wouldn’t be too weird for her. After all, most of the women here were hippies and at least half of them were in flowing skirts. Most of them had long hair. I’d thought that Abby would feel less self-conscious about her clothing.
But I had forgotten how much little things seem foreign right after leaving the community.
The women might have been in skirts, but most of them wore tops that scooped low, revealing much more skin than any self-respecting woman of the Life might ever do. They spoke in boisterous voices. They swore.
Renee immediately began asking Abby questions about sharing husbands—revealing, sexual questions.
Abby had only turned white and shook her head, pressing close to me. That wasn’t something she thought to talk about, especially not with strangers.
For their part, the other people at the ranch immediately realized how nervous and confused Abby was, and they backed off. They were kind, and they didn’t push her, but there was so much that was different in the world than in the community. I could see that Abby was having a hard time processing it.
We made it through dinner, and then everyone went into the great room to sit in front of the fire, which was the typical activity in the big ranch house.
Most of us were drinking wine or beer, but Abby had denied it completely when offered, and she seemed a little scandalized to see me drinking it. I was tempted to stop, to make her feel more comfortable, but I knew that hiding in the beliefs of the community wasn’t going to help anything.
No, Abby needed something comforting and familiar, something that would make her feel better about who she was and where she was. Right now, she probably felt like she had nothing to hold onto except me.
So, I sat her down in a chair by the fire.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” I said.
Her eyes flashed in terror. “You’re leaving me?”
“For five minutes,” I said. “I’ll be right back. Just stay here. You’ll be okay.”
She swallowed, but she nodded and sat back in the chair. Her posture was rigid, and she was worrying at her bottom lip.
I ducked back into the music room, which was a place where most of the members of the ranch kept musical instruments. I selected one of the guitars that seemed to belong to the house. I’d played it a few times when River was trying to teach me to play songs by the Beatles.
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