I force myself out of bed and lug the book back to the desk. Maybe it’ll be easier to stay awake in that uncomfortable chair.
The beginnings of the book are too fantastical to take seriously, so I flip through it until I find a list of more than a dozen rules the Blessed Flock has to live by.
All men over eighteen carry the title of Brother. Women earn no titles of their own until they marry, and then they become Sister.
In the presence of the Prophet, or any Brother, women are forbidden to speak unless spoken to. Their voices belong to the Flock, not themselves.
Members of the Blessed Flock must keep themselves pure. There will be no swearing, no carnal acts outside of marriage, no lying, cheating, or stealing.
“No stealing? But kidnapping is totally okay,” I mutter with a little snort.
At eighteen, men are sent beyond the Flock’s lands for one to three years to find a wife.
Once married, women are forbidden from ever leaving the Flock again.
A fresh tear rolls down my cheek. The women are trapped. Every one of them. Do they care? They must. Some of them must. If I can find even one…maybe we can get out of here together.
Bang.
The door flies open, and I scramble up. Or try to. I fell asleep at the desk, and everything hurts. Tripping over my own numb feet, I land on my ass against the wall.
“Blessed Day, Nova,” Zeke says with one of his bland smiles.
Malone follows with a plate of eggs and country potatoes. My mouth waters before I can stop it. He sets the plate on the desk, then backs out into the hall without a word.
“He’ll stand guard until I leave and lock you in again,” Zeke says smoothly. “Run, and you’ll be caught before you make it ten steps.”
“Screw you.”
His lips curl like I just spit in the holy water. “We do not swear here, Nova.”
Using the wall for support, I wobble to my feet. “I’m not a member of your flock.”
“You are now.” He gestures to the open book on the desk. “Did you find my Doctrine enlightening?”
“I found it delusional as fuck.”
He backhands me—what is this, the third time?—and the taste of blood in my mouth is becoming a regular thing. But I’m not done.
“You treat your women like property. Trap them here? No formal schooling beyond what you teach them? Silenced unless you grant them permission? Do you make them wear muzzles and chastity belts too?”
His smile vanishes, voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “I will forgive your outburst this one time, Nova. You are still new here. Still learning. But consider this your final warning. If you continue to disobey, the consequences will be severe.”
He snatches the plate from the desk, spins on his heel, and strides from the room. The lock thunks so loudly, I flinch, and two sets of footsteps retreat down the hall.
Solitary confinement is a torture technique, isn’t it? The walls are nothing but plain wood, the bathroom almost pure white. There’s nothing to look at. No way to distract myself other than his damn Doctrine.
I can’t even pace. It’s only six steps from one side of the room to the other. And I haven’t eaten in so long. Much longer, and I won’t be able to think straight. But that’s what he wants, isn’t it?
Zeke is so concerned with purity and swearing? I’ll give him swearing.
“Hey, asshole!” I scream and pound my fists against the door. “I can’t be your fucking sacrifice if you starve me to death first!”
When I don’t hear any telltale footsteps approaching, I try again. And again. It’s all I can do. That…and pray my husband finds me.
It’s been hours. I’m so hungry and weak, I can barely stay awake. I tried some sit-ups and pushups a few minutes ago, but gave up after I got so dizzy, my head hit the floor. Now, I sit on the bed with my knees drawn up and my arms wrapped around my shins like I can somehow keep myself from falling apart.
I’m so tired, I don’t even fully register the soft thud of footsteps.
