He leans back and looks down at me, the golden flecks in his eyes blazing. “I see you, Delilah.”
We both know he’s pushing the boundary by using my name, but I don’t correct him.
“What do you see?” My heart is pounding so hard I feel slightly faint. Not because I’m afraid of him, but because I’m afraid of his answer.
“I see a woman who’s always made herself smaller for the sake of men. A woman who’s afraid to embrace freedom because oppression is more familiar. A woman who’s been through hell and made it out the other side.” His other hand reaches up and cups my chin, his thumb running along my bottom lip gently. “Youfinallyhave a choice, have control over your own life. I want you to forget aboutwhat you think is best for everyone else and think about whatyouwant.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he silences me with a stern look.
“Please, for once in your goddamn life, be selfish,” he whispers pleadingly. This man is literally begging me to go against everything I’ve been taught, who I was raised to be. To betray the core of who I am.
My chin quivers. “I can’t.”
“You have to. Otherwise you’ll spend the rest of your life resenting the choices that others will inevitably make for you.” He steps back with a disappointed shake of his head. “I meant what I said before. If you really want to go back, I’ll honor that decision. But I’m not gonna choose for you, and I sure as hell am not gonna let Gabriel decide either.” With one final imploring look, he turns his back on me.
“Maverick!” I call out as he plucks my clothes off the ground and walks away.
“Let me know when you’ve made your decision,” he says, not even bothering to turn around.
A frustrated scream rips from my throat. If I had a door to slam like an insolent teenager right now, I would.
He doesn’t get it. But he’s a man, how could he? Even if he’s not a member of the Brotherhood, he’s still afforded privileges that women aren’t.
Since I was ten years old, every decision has been outside of my control, every choice made for me, all for the benefit of men. Now,he wants me to suddenly have autonomy over every aspect of my life? The sheer amount of choices in front of me every day is paralyzing. What he expects of me is not only unrealistic, but almost cruel.
And on top of the revelation that I’m suddenly the one deciding everything for myself, I have to consider whatIactually want.Be selfish,Maverick said. A dry laugh slips out as I sit down on a fallen tree.Aside from our tenets, Headmistress drilled the idea that women are naturally nurturing, and therefore, selfless, into our heads.Anyone who says otherwise is deluded, she’d say.Now I’m supposed to disregard all of that and “be selfish”? It’s laughable.
My conversation with Maverick’s father comes flooding back.Loyalty that’s been coerced isn’t true loyalty at all: it’s manipulation.Have I been manipulated by the Brotherhood? By my husband? If I examine the events of my life as objectively as possible, look strictly at the facts and remove the emotion, I might be inclined to say that Iwasmanipulated.
Before the Reckoning, I had a home. I had parents and friends who loved me. I remember my childhood fondly, and even though we were told to forget about our lives before, I never could fully let go of those memories.
Then, at the age of ten, I was ripped away from the only life I knew in the middle of the night and put on a bus, never to see my family again. I became Gabriel’s bride the same week I started my period. At the age of fifteen, I was expected to behave as an adult, to be someone’s wife, to bear children because I was told it was myhighest calling. But, if the movies I watched in my youth are any indication, teenagers are supposed to hang out with their friends and have their first kisses and learn to drive, not bewives.
My hands find their way into my curls as I start to hyperventilate, coming to grips with the reality of what was done to me.
I was a child.
I was a child, and they married me off to a grown man who saw me as nothing more than a body, a vessel to carry and rear his children. My hurried breaths morph into sobs as I wrap my arms around myself, sinking down from the log onto the forest floor.
For the first time in my marriage, I’m grateful I never became pregnant. The idea of having Gabriel’s children is suddenly revolting. Whatever love I thought I had for him is replaced by resentment as my panic and confusion melt away and are replaced by a newfound sense of clarity.
Gabriel doesn’t love me.
Perhaps he isn’t even capable of love in the way that a husband should love his wife, in the way my father loved my mother. Gabriel sees me as an object, as something to be owned and possessed, not as a partner and certainly not as his equal.
For eight years, he’s used me in whatever way he’s seen fit with no regard for me or my feelings. Being here, getting to know Maverick, has proven to me that men are capable of caring about morethan a woman’s ability to serve them. They’re capable of kindness and compassion and gentleness.
I cry for what seems like ages before the paralyzing sadness turns into something darker. I’ve spent the last decade being subservient, numb to anything and everything that’s happened to me. But really, I’ve always known; always felt deep down that everything I was experiencing waswrong. I refuse to let the devastation, the guilt and shame I feel for not seeing through the Brotherhood’s bullshit hold me hostage for even a moment longer. I let myself feel the anger I’ve kept buried for so long, let it fuel me. I won’t be a victim, not anymore.
I stand from the damp ground and brush myself off, wiping my tears and pulling my shoulders back. I’m done being used by the Brotherhood. By Gabriel. By anyone who sees me as nothing more than a servant.
It’s time to take back my life, and I know exactly how I’m gonna do it.
Maverick
Present Day
“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.”—MAYA ANGELOU
