Only after they’re wives can women move around with any freedom.
And even wives don’t ever seem to leave these walls.
The more I learn, the more I’m worried there’s absolutely no way out of this hellish place.
I’m on the bottom level, of course, and I don’t get a chance to identify the other women like me until the hour before dinner, when they tell me to find a bunk in the back section and read my Bible until it’s time to eat.
The back section is with the other women at my level.That much is clear. The others have all claimed their bunks, so I walk around slowly, looking to see if anyone appears friendly or welcoming.
No one does.
None of these women appear any happier to be here than I am.
My heart jumps when I get to the bunk bed in the farthest corner.
Burgundy is on the bottom bunk. She glances up as I approach.
“Hi,” I tell her, putting my Bible and blanket on the mattress above her. “Is it okay if I sleep here?”
“Sure.” She eyes me soberly. She has Micah’s dark blue eyes.
They make me gulp.
Glancing behind me to make sure no one is watching us, I crouch down and whisper, “Are you Burgundy?”
Her eyes widen and lips part. “Yes.”
“I’m Kat.” I swallow and just say it. “Micah is still looking for you.”
Her features twist dramatically as she stifles a small sob. “You know Micah?”
“Yes. I came to check things out here and maybe see if you’re here, but I wasn’t as smart as I should have been and got taken.” I’m speaking as softly as I can while still being heard.
Burgundy is close to tears. “I was trying to catch back up with Micah and my people, but I was alone. I got foundby some men from here and they took me. I’m still at the bottom level because I refuse to fully submit, but I’d rather be stuck here than married off to some asshole.”
“That’s for sure. Are you… are you okay?”
She meets my eyes bluntly. I like her straightforward manner. “I wouldn’t say I’m great, but I haven’t been raped or abused, so I’m calling it okay. How did you know it was me?”
“The pink in your hair.” I gesture toward the faded streaks. “It’s a miracle the color lasted so long and they didn’t insist on chopping it off.”
Her lips twitch just slightly. “Apparently, a woman cutting her hair is a worse offense to these people than dying it pink. I guess there’s a hierarchy of oppressive rules for female appearance, and haircuts are worse than color.”
I snort. “I’m not surprised. Okay, since you know the ropes around here, and I’ve got a knife, we’re going to make a plan and get out of here.”
Her eyes go wide. She doesn’t only have Micah’s eyes. She has his warm nature. I like her already. “I’ve thought of every possible way out of here for all these months, but I could never do it alone.”
“Well, you’re not alone anymore,” I tell her. “And neither am I. So I’m telling you—we’re going to get out of here.”
23
It takesme only half of one day to confirm I’d rather be killed or seriously injured trying to escape than stay in this compound for any length of time.
The women in training aren’t physically abused—at least not that I’ve yet witnessed—but they’re forced to work all day long and controlled so vigilantly they can’t speak or sit without permission.
The worst part to me is being made to listen to several small sermons each hour and do so without scowling or talking back.
Patience is not one of my gifts. Neither is playing along to avoid conflict. If I’m stuck here for more than a day or two, I’ll for sure explode. Start screaming and knocking heads together.
