Chapter Eighteen

Diana

IT'S WARM, NICE and warm. My body feels limp and loose, as if every muscle has been released from the constant tension for the past seven years since Dad died.

I open my eyes and realize I'm in the bathtub; my favorite lavender bubble bath has been poured in, and the water soothes my aching muscles. I still feel weak and weepy, however.

"You're awake," Thomas says from where he's sat, perched on the closed toilet seat. "Your bed has been changed. As soon as you want to get out of here, I will help you."

I just shake my head; I don't know if I can speak. I feel … I don't know. Empty. Full. Weak. Powerful. Broken. Whole, for the first time.

"Diana, I need you to listen to me," he says, his voice low and grave.

I turn to face him.

"The pain of the forced orgasms, the hormones released, the repressed emotions you brought forth … it was a lot," he says. "And I don't know how much more I can do for you.

"Little dove, you let yourself go this evening. You unleashed everything you could not speak. And in doing so, you were so beautiful. So broken. So fragile. Breaking you was exactly the cathartic experience I'd expected it would be, for both of us."

Cathartic. Is … is that the word I'm looking for?

He brushes wet hair from my face and I don't flinch this time, which makes him smile. "It's been six weeks, little dove. Far, far quicker than Father Oliver told me to expect for the final breaking to happen, for ascension to begin. I think you wanted this, needed it, as much as I did."

I don't answer. Did I want it? Need it?

"I think you wanted all of this, but especially to know you can have a true, pure release, unburdening your soul and your body," he continues. "But I need to hear that from you. I understand you need to sleep on this. Rest. Decipher your emotions. Pray on it should you see fit.

"You have a choice now, Diana. There is little more I can do for you after tonight. The rest is in your hands. I can free you, little dove. But you must willingly give yourself to me first. Let me free you."

"I can't…" My voice is hoarse from screaming, and I clear my throat. "I can't be free while he lives."

Thomas' eyes narrow. "Make the proper choice, and you never have to worry about that evil creature again. I promise you this as your husband."

He leans forward and does the last thing I'd expect: he kisses my forehead.

"I will return in the morning. I pray the Lord moves you to make the proper decision."

I wake the next morning with my body still feeling vaguely gelatinous. Very sore on the inside, too. And a small part … wants more. It wasn't just orgasm; it was Thomas controlling it. Controlling me. Sending me over the precipice time and time again until my body and mind felt shattered, yet not letting me die.

Elevating me. Putting my broken pieces together. They don't fit the same, but they do fit. Maybe even better than they did before.

Hell, what am I thinking?

Thomas has:

Kidnapped me.

Drugged me.

Pissed on me.

Cum on me.

Beaten me in multiple ways.

Got hard from said beatings.

Wants me to live on this compound where we need permission to wear dark colors and go into town or have coffee.

Pretty sure he made me think I enjoy pain when I don't (I don't, right?).

Not to forget I still ache inside from that damn machine.

Why am I considering this? Why am I considering his offer?

Because, my conscience whispers, he saved you from the streets. Sure, he went about it the wrong way.

He feeds you and ensures you're healthy.

He worries about your soul.

He hasn't forced himself on you, or forced you to be with anyone else.

He killed Rick for you.

He's protected you.

Wait. Wait. Since when did the little voice in my head encourage this? Didn't she always try to stop me from thinking well about Thomas? My own conscience has gone nuts.

"I can free you, little dove. But you must willingly give yourself to me first."

Closing my eyes, I lean back against the flat pillow, hearing Thomas' words over and over again in my mind. If I say yes, if I give in, it's forever. I have to choose now. He has made it clear what he seeks from me. How punishments would be conducted from here on out. How he'd use my pain and turn it to pleasure to the point where it becomes unbearable and I break over and over again.

Or I can remain down here.

Or I can die. Likely, my choice now is between life and death.

And revenge, my conscience reminds me. You will only be free when you get revenge, and Thomas has offered you that on a silver platter. You're a fool not to take the offer, not to evolve and embrace what you've always known: you're as evil as Thomas is, deep down.

Is it evil to kill the wicked? Is murder a sin when you are cleansing the world?

I finally understand how Thomas sees me, sees things in shades of gray. The things he did to me were horrible, but he did them to save me. The things he has done to others he did for the same reason. To cleanse the world. To use the blackness of evil to create the white light of good.

I get it now.

Thomas did break me. He broke the old me, and he's promised to be by my side as I rebuild myself, body and soul.

The door to the basement opens and Thomas enters. I stand up, wanting to speak to him on as equal footing as possible, despite being a good eight inches shorter.

He watches me warily, eyes narrowed, as he puts a cup of tea down. "Did you require something?"

"Yes."

Crossing his arms, he asks, "What is it?"

"You." He doesn't say a word, so I go on, rambling. "I'm sure maybe I'm not perfect for you yet. Maybe you'll have to work on me in the future. But … I believe you. I believe I belong with you. You're the first person who never harmed me for fun, you've done things for me others would never have considered."

Kidnapping, murder, torture. Yeah, no one would consider those as acts of love. But he did and still does. And he did it for me . Not for himself. All he had to gain … was me.

Green eyes soften and he reaches out, hand brushing against my face. "You mean it, don't you? You're not conspiring to escape or placate me."

I shake my head. "I'm not. I … have been safe here, with someone who only wants what's best for me. Why would I ever leave? I don't … I don't know about love," I admit. "I don't even know if I am capable of feeling it or what it is. But I know that when I'm with you, even if I am hurt, you take care of me in the end."

"Little dove, love looks different for us all, and it's all right. God placing you in my life is enough to prove to me that love exists, even if you don't know how to feel it or identify it yet. We have all the time in the world to figure it out." He sighs. "I wish you had told me your truth sooner; perhaps everything could have been avoided."

"Or…" I trail off, gathering my thoughts. "Maybe I had to go through the violence to understand who I am, really."

That grin. I would wager that grin terrified many victims and enticed many lovers in the past. "My work on you has come leaps and bounds. I'm proud." His hand moves down to my throat and the grin widens. "You understand now the purifying nature of pain, how receiving can clear your mind, and delivering it can ignite your soul."

I nod and he gives my throat a single squeeze before letting go.

"I will bring you clothes; we have to see Father Oliver."

He kisses my forehead and then leaves, and something inside me feels … different. I can't explain it, but admitting the violence did help me, in more ways than one, feels liberating. I guess the truth really shall set you free.

Thomas returns with clothes and places them on the edge of the bed. "It will be a joy to finally move you upstairs, with me, where you belong. Not that the punishments weren't fun." The grin flashes again. "But now we can be more comfortable should that need ever arise. And for good wives, pleasure always follows punishment. Keep that in mind, little dove."

If I speak, I will likely let out nothing except hot air, so I nod.

"I will wait outside; just open the door when you're ready," he says and exits.

Okay, okay, stop whatever all this is, Diana , I scold myself. At least pretend to be normal for once.

He brought me dark wash jeans and a light gray blouse and sneakers, nothing white or extravagant. I dress quickly and make sure my hair is brushed before opening the basement door.

Thomas is scrolling on his phone, and when the door opens he looks up and smiles. "I may be biased, but I do have the most beautiful bride." He pockets his phone and holds his hand out to me.

"We can have phones?" I ask, taking his hand. It's big and warm and rough in mine.

He nods. "We aren't luddites. The reason for this community is because we strive to understand the outside world, not hide from it. It is because we know what goes on out there that we come here, to survive this Godlessness together. We have to be informed. And should things ever get worse, we have a place where doors will be open for all who wish to repent and join us.

"Father Oliver met Catherine when he was just a young pastor, ashamed at the world and his place in it. They started this compound after he brought her to his cabin here to train her and save her. The public attends our services, and precious few wish to go against the grain and join us."

"Or are allowed to be saved, like me," I guess and he smiles.

"Exactly. Now come." He leads me upstairs and I stop once more as we reach the front door.

"No bracelet or anything?"

"No, my dear girl. You said you want to be with me, to surrender your old self entirely. I have to believe you meant it, or else we have no proper start to our lives together," he explains. "I also believe you understand your rather unique position. The same one all who pledge themselves to our community are in, myself included: should you defy us, punishment will be severe … but not swift."

I nod. "I realized the other day my choices were to accept what I am and be with you, or finally die as I wanted most of my life. I chose you. I choose you, Thomas."

"That's my girl. Come on. It's not too far to their home, and you can see more of the grounds."

He hands me sunglasses and we exit the house to a perfectly warm breeze. Hand-in-hand, we walk down the clean sidewalks. Each house has its own large, grassy space around it, with many that have gardens.

In the distance, I spot what looks like farmland.

"We keep and slaughter our own animals, as well as garden. We grocery shop for things too difficult to raise or grow, but we try to be sustainable. To not rely on the rest of the wicked world for our needs," he says.

"Except coffee?" I guess and he laughs, really laughs.

"Lisa told you, hm? We all have our vices. Mine happen to be caffeine, blood, and beautiful young ladies whose hands fit perfectly in mine." He winks and we keep walking.

It seems like at least a hundred people must live on this compound, more than I suspected. Children play outside a school, a myriad of ages but not teenagers.

"We don't have a high school," Thomas says. "Father Oliver says the children born here need to experience the real world to understand why they live here ."

"Do … any of them leave?"

He nods. "A couple have grown and chosen to leave, my first year here. A dear mistake on their part, but it was their right to try."

I don't know why, but I expected Oliver and Catherine to live in a grand home, but their house is as quaint as all the others. The only difference is they and Thomas have the only lake views.

Thomas knocks on the door and the man who opens it is the one who brought my cabinet down to the basement. He has a splatter of blood on his wrist.

"Brother Thomas, are you here for— Oh!" He cuts himself off in shock when he sees me.

"Brother Joseph, meet Diana. My bride." Thomas smiles down at me and I don't know how people greet each other here.

"Nice to meet you," I say, realizing he is looking at me now, unlike before. So he couldn't look at me because I was a prisoner. Interesting.

"Same, same. Thomas bragged about you since the moment he saw you. We're all a bit jealous he met his soulmate, but he's been happier than ever since you arrived," Joseph says. "Anyway, Brother, evidently the other day Sister Lisa cursed and nearly defied Mother Catherine, so she's inside."

Thomas rolls his eyes. "You'd think she hadn't chosen to join the community herself with the way she slips back into her old self. See you on Wednesday."

Joseph waves and I want to ask how community members get punished, but as we walk in, I see I don't need to ask anything.

Lisa hangs from a set of handcuffs dangling from a nail in the wall, her face to the plaster, bare body covered in bloody lashes. Mother Catherine clucks her tongue at Lisa as we walk in. When she sees me, her countenance brightens.

"Oh, Diana! Welcome, welcome!" She gestures to her blood-splattered blouse. "I'd rather not get this on you, dear."

I'm just trying to avoid looking at Lisa.

Catherine can tell and waves her hand in that direction. "Once you choose to be a member of the community, if you don't have a proper partner, punishment is meted out fairly between members," she says. "You'll never have to worry about it, though, dear. Is it too early of me to give my congratulations?"

Thomas shakes his head. "Not at all. We are here to ask for Father Oliver's blessing, as my bride's training has been completed. There was nothing more I could do for her; the choice was hers how she would proceed."

"Wonderful! You will make a beautiful couple, and will surely strengthen the church and community." She turns warm brown eyes to me. "Brother Thomas is in line to follow in my husband's footsteps and lead the community. Being his wife brings a status unlike any other."

I didn't even realize that; Thomas did tell me when we met he was the pastor-in-training.

"Go on and see Ollie," Catherine continues. "I'll finish up with Lisa here."

Thomas nods and leads me down a hall and knocks on a door that reads, "OFFICE". "Father Oliver, may I come in?"

Permission granted and we enter a spacious office decorated with degrees and certificates, as well as framed Bible quotes and a painting of Jesus on the Cross. Oliver sits at a large oak desk, turning to see us.

"Well, Diana, we meet officially at last," he says, standing and holding his hand out.

I take it and shake; he seems much more genial here than he did when he met with all of us sex workers on the street. Not that he ever spoke to me. It was always Thomas.

"Have a seat."

There are two chairs and a leather loveseat, the latter of which Thomas leads me to and we sit down.

"So, I take it you have good news for me, yes?" The light in here is dim, and it seems like he can see me better than he could outside. I've never met an albino person in real life, and I know little about the condition, but I remember reading once they have vision issues.

Thomas seems to be waiting for me to speak, so I do. "Um, yes, sir. Yesterday, Thomas informed me he felt my training and … cleansing was complete or as near as it could be, and he gave me the choice of how I wished to proceed with life." I glance over at him, the soft smile on his face nothing like what I was used to from him. "I chose him. I chose to stay here."

Oliver smiles. "Wonderful! It pleases me greatly. You know, Diana, when someone as high ranking in our church wishes to choose a partner, I have to approve them. And I admit, I worried about you. I see that was needless."

Thomas scoffs, but he still smiles. "You should have worried about me , Father. She tried my patience for weeks."

"And she will continue to do so, and you will love her all the more for it, just like my Catherine," Oliver comments. "So, Diana, around here, as it is outside, brides typically prefer to choose their weddings. Some opt for private, just them, me, and witnesses. Some wish for a large gathering at the town hall after a church wedding. The only thing that must be done is the post-wedding consummation before the rest of the clergy."

Nausea roils at the thought of being watched and Thomas catches my hand in his quickly.

"Father … you recall I sent you a message that Diana has had some past trauma. I didn't expand upon it, as it's not my story to tell, but what can be done to not put her through that? To not have a crowd around us?" he asks.

Shaking my head, I say, "Thomas, no, I don't want to cause trouble for you or your traditions. I've suffered through worse."

He pierces me with his eyes. "And that is why I will not let you go through anything to re-traumatize you."

Oliver watches Thomas, not me, with calculating eyes. "You are truly willing to balk tradition to protect her."

"God gave her to me. I trained her. I saved her. I cleansed her. I will not see her revert back to the person she was when she first came to me," he declares.

Oliver stands and paces a moment before stopping and nodding to himself. "The reason for the public consummation is to prove you are joined as one under the name of the First Church of the New Disciples. To shed who you were before. Nothing more than that. I believe I know what you can do to prove that same thing, and not be watched during the process."

He smiles, murder in his nearly colorless eyes, and suddenly I feel like everything is about to go horribly wrong … or horribly right.