Chapter 13RoseVox

Chapter 13

Rose

Safe and loved.

That’s what being in the arms of Vox feels like.

In the quiet of the night, with Vox's strong arms wrapped around me, I feel protected from my nightmares. But I know better than to succumb to this dream. My reality is waiting for me outside these walls.

When the first light of dawn begins to filter through the beige curtains, I reluctantly extricate myself from his arms.

I wish I could have stayed there all day, listening to him telling me about his life.

Something changed last night when he opened up to me about his past, about his family. Watching him relive the pain, his jaw clenched and his eyes looking far away as if he was revisiting a ghost, I couldn’t help but hurt with him.

Kissing his jaw with a feather-light touch, I leave the warmth of his bed and tiptoe across the room, my gaze lingering on Vox's sleeping form for a moment longer.

I never tried drugs, but I bet this is what this man feels like.

He looks peaceful, more vulnerable for such a dangerous man. But I know better. He's anything but weak. Actually, from his actions since I met him and the past he told me about last night, he’s the strongest person I know. One who fought to survive even when life had brought him down. Even when hope wasn’t an option anymore. He kept going and he found a purpose and a life again.

I walk downstairs with a pain in my chest.

Why does it feel like I’m leaving my own home?

Sleeping with him is the most natural thing in the world. It’s where I belong, just like he told me last night. Thank god he couldn’t see my face then because a few tears fell from his loving words.

Who knew dangerous bikers were the most romantic ones?

With a heavy sigh, I slip out of the room and make my way to the stairs, back to my own house. It feels strange to come back here after a night away. Sleepovers are not a thing in our community. The rare times I had to sleep outside of my house were when my parents went on intensive pilgrimage weekends at the Institute. Back then I would go to Greta’s house, but we weren’t allowed to sleep in the same room.

So much fun, I know.

Everything is quiet, my parents are still asleep. I take out one of my four brown dresses and lay it on my bed.

Why does it suddenly feel like a costume?

As if I was an actress playing my own role again and again. Whereas last night felt real. After showering and braiding my wet hair, I take the stairs to the kitchen and start making myself some tea and porridge. After a few minutes, my mother appears in the doorframe.

“Good morning, Rose,” she says with a large smile on her face .

This is weird. Why is she so happy?

“Morning,” I sign with both hands, watching her as she moves around almost dancing.

Okay this is definitely not normal.

“I finished your dress last night,” she says, clapping her hands as if it was good news.

“Oh Rose, it’s going to be such a beautiful wedding,” she continues, talking to herself, her eyes wandering far away. “I can’t believe my own daughter is marrying our Shepherd. My daughter,” she repeats.

Turns out caring about my thoughts and feelings isn't that important when all she wants is her own blood marrying into the highest rank of the Faithful Lambs. I don’t want to play this act anymore. I need her to know, to do something about it, anything.

After all, she’s my mother.

My hands tremble as I sign, "Mother, I don't want to…" But before I can finish my sentence, my mother interrupts, raising her palm in the air, her voice stern and unwavering.

"Oh, I know what you’re going to say, young lady, and the answer is no. There's no turning back now. You won't shame our family any further." Her rigid posture, accentuated by the black long dress she wears, exudes rigidity and coldness. Her eyes, unyielding, bore into mine as my hopes crumble once again.

Ever felt like you’re about to fall from a cliff? That’s how it feels like.

I lower my eyes to my porridge, knowing there’s nothing I could sign that could change her mind. Any doubt she had has vanished away. There’s a lump in my throat, choking back the words I long to say but cannot voice. With a heavy heart, I nod.

“Off you go, you don't want to be late; you’re setting an example for all of us now,” she says, pride dripping from her mouth, making me want to throw up. After eating my breakfast, I rush to the entry, putting my shoes on while my father is already opening the door to the car.

I don’t want another lecture on how grateful I should be to be chosen by the Shepherd, no thanks.

He walks out first, his stiff steps making him look ten years older than he is.

I wonder if he has always been like this, or if perhaps, in another life, before the Faithful Lambs, he would sometimes smile and hug the people he loved.

It’s strange how invisible and helpless he makes me feel, following him like a shadow, obeying his orders.

If I died today, would he even care? Or would it be just another bump on his way to the Ascension?

I enter the back of the car, the engine already roaring, while his thin knuckles grip the wheel. I try to look at him through the rearview, but he ignores it. When the car is in front of the Institute where he usually drops me off, his voice makes my body jerk. “Rose.” I look back into the rearview only to find him staring at the wheel.

“Remember what’s at stake, remember the punishments waiting for you if you fail your task.”

My lower lips tremble and my heart pounds loudly in my ears.

No child should ever have to feel this way. Like you don’t matter, like you’re a disease people wish to stay away from and use only to their advantage.

Especially after what he did to me.

Especially when he's the reason I lost my voice.

Literally and figuratively.

“Get out now,” he orders, and I rush outside, my blood leaving my body.

I have to spend an entire day at the Institute playing the good little student when all I want is to run away as far as possible from this messed up life that has become my reality.

My father wants me to fulfill my duty. If only he knew how much rage he just awoke in me.

-

“To cleanse our sins…” says the small gray-haired woman.

“…We must obey,” answers the class as one.

“So first, hum, I’m afraid Mr Collins won’t be coming back. I’m Mrs Abigail, your new teacher. I’ll take it from where you were,” she states, writing her name on the blackboard, making my skin cringe at the sound. “Open your books page 278.”

Where is Mr Collins? I haven’t seen him since he punished me that day.

He didn’t seem sick or on the verge of leaving his place. Actually, he seemed quite content with his position, enjoying his power over students like me. No matter what–or who–is keeping him away, I’m grateful. I don’t ever want to see his disgusting face hitting me. My fingers healed but the memories are definitely imprinted in my mind forever.

What a sick man.

I wonder why no parents never said anything about it. A man like him should never be around young people like us.

Are you raising more questions and trouble, Rose?

Biting my lips, I open my book.

Well, yes, perhaps it’s time to really make trouble. Especially when I’m getting married soon, and I know that there’s no way I’m letting this man touch me.

I’ll escape before he gets the chance too. But I’m running out of time to understand what lies behind the sleek surface of my community. I need to find out more about the Shepherd's dirty hands and the girls who disappeared. I know there’s more to it than meets the eye. And somehow, I need this to fully go through with my escape.

Otherwise, I’ll always wonder if staying was the wisest choice.

Waiting for the class to end, I put away my notebook and my pencil case as fast as I can, avoiding Greta and Jezebel. I jog to the stairs and mount them quickly, reaching for the last floor where the Shepherd’s office is.

This is madness, I have no right to be here. Students aren’t allowed on this floor.

I only have a five-minute break before the next class but I can’t stop myself. I’m dying to know more. If only I could search the Shepherd’s office, perhaps I could find proof or anything telling me I’m right about his criminal activities. His door is open slightly, but the hallway is empty.

Come on, Rose, you can do this.

So I take a chance and walk toward it. Perhaps I'll be able to find an excuse if I run into him. Something stupid about being eager to see him before the wedding or something.

Ew.

The office is empty. Thank god. I step into the Shepherd's office with a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Stay focus.

My senses are on high alert, studying each sound and movement around me. The massive desk. I bet it’s in there .

With cautious steps, I approach the dark wooden desk, my heart pounding in my chest. Circling it, I take in the four large drawers behind it. My hands, clammy with nerves, tremble as I reach for them. They're not locked.

Hurry up, he could come back any time.

Every creak of the floorboards beneath my feet sounds amplified in the silence of the room, making my hands sweaty with fear. The wood squeaks when I pull it towards me.

No. No. No.

I hold my breath, straining to hear any sign of approaching footsteps or voices. But no one comes.

Phew.

As I sift through the documents in the desk drawer, my fingers fumble nervously. Every rustle of paper sounds way too loud.

You’re going to get caught!

Invoices, convocations, baptism certificate, no that’s not it. Tugging on one more paper, my jaw drops to the floor.

Vow of Silence contract.

What is this?

More than a dozen signatures are in the lowest part of the document. All Elders, including my own father, Jezebel and Greta’s dads too. Reading as fast as I can, I freeze as if a bucket of ice falls on me.