“Please, I promise to do better!”
The young voice was panicked. Fear laced with thick tears. I felt the girl’s despair in my bones.
I couldn’t help myself.
I looked.
Through the cover of my hair I saw two elders, Stanley Gibbons and Clement Rowe, dragging Gabby White—a small girl of twelve—across the clearing towards the trees.
Both men were tall and imposing, with long, greying hair and thick beards. Their expressions mirrored each other. Hard and unyielding.
I could almost feel their fingers on my arms. Digging into flesh. The taste of dust in my mouth that I kicked up with resistant feet.
“Don’t! I want my mom!”
I blinked away the stinging in my eyes. I should look away. It wasn’t right to stare. There was nothing wrong in what was happening. It served a greater purpose. Served a greater good.
I clenched my teeth together hard enough to break bone.
Gabby’s sobs were too loud. Shrill and awful. I wanted to tell her to stop it. That she was only making it worse. I wanted to cover my ears to drown out her terror.
After a few minutes Gabby went limp, her body’s weight pulling her heavily to the ground. Neither man said a word to her. Their faces were impassive. To the casual observer one would think them unfeeling.
I hoped that wasn’t the case. I wanted to believe that they got no joy out of carting disobedient children to The Refuge.
I didn’t want to notice the slight smile on Clement’s lips. I pretended that I imagined the chuckle as he dragged her through the dirt.
Stanley, the larger of the two, finally lifted the girl up into his arms. Not tenderly, but as if she were a sack of flour. Gabby had gone limp. I wasn’t sure if she had passed out from fear. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had.
She knew what was coming.
We all did.
Stanley and Clement walked with Gabby to the edge of the woods. To the tiny, stifling building deep inside the forest. A place where she would stay until she stopped fighting. Until she accepted God. Accepted Pastor Carter’s word.
Accepted her fate.
She’d be happier for it.
I knew she would.
I pushed away the threads of anger that curled up around my throat, constricting tightly. I pushed them far, far down until I couldn’t be sure they had been there at all.
I smiled slightly. Joy forced its way into my being. I opened my heart to it. Needing it desperately. Gabby would be better for her time in The Refuge. We all were.
All I could see was darkness. Punctuated by streams of dusty sunlight that filtered through the thick wooden slats.
My stomach was hollow. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink for days. My mouth was so dry the skin of my lips stuck together. I was exhausted. My body was in shock. But I couldn’t sleep.
The hard dirt floor made it impossible to relax. The walls were so close I had to curl into a ball. The ceiling was too low to stand up. It was like being in a box. I couldn’t stretch out. My muscles had cramped up from the unnatural position. Every part of me hurt.
How long had I been in here?
All I knew was that this was my fault. I should have known better. I needed to have faith. To show devotion. That’s all they wanted from me.
I had stopped crying days ago. There was no point. I was too dehydrated anyway.
And when Pastor came for me, I hugged him. I promised to do better. And I believed what I said. I would be the best disciple I could be.
