Chapter 5VoxRose

Chapter 5

Vox

Twenty-one fucking days since I last saw my angel, and I’m slowly but surely becoming more unhinged with each day spent without seeing her.

Ares sent me to Orlando to check our new gun supply chain. I’ve been there for three weeks with Viper and Steele, makin’ sure there were no cracks in the process. We found a few guys struggling to obey, so I took one of them and made an example out of him, cutting his tongue for daring to mess with the Raven Sons. The word will spread, and fear will loom over our men there like a constant fog.

Viper has been eyeing me like a bomb ready to explode since I cut the guy’s tongue. He offered to smash one of his fingers with a hammer, but I didn’t think it sent a strong enough message.

Also, I was on edge.

Watching Rose on my surveillance app made me feel like a lion stuck in a cage. I should have put more cameras in the house ‘cause seeing her only in the morning and at night before she slides under her covers isn’t enough anymore. I keep replayin’ each mornin’ when she fidgets in her bed, spreadin’ her arms up to stretch like the most fuckin’ adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my fucked-up life.

She wears a long brown nightdress that hides most of her gorgeous body. And the fucking worst of all is that I have forbidden myself to look at her when she gets dressed in the morning and undressed at night. Turning my head from the screen with difficulty, trying to respect her wish of keeping the sight of her skin hidden.

That’s how fucked I am.

Cutting men at work without an ounce of guilt but turning my eyes from Rose’s body like she could see me through the screen taking something that wasn’t freely given to me. All I can do is watch her as she looks out the window toward my house or takes the note from under her mattress and reads it again and again until she presses it to her chest, giving me a fucking heart attack the first time I saw her do it.

Her days seem long because she gets up with the sun and only comes back around nine, lookin’ more tired as each day passes. I like observing her and her habits, learnin’ about her routines, like the way she writes at her desk at the end of the day, or how she kneels and closes her eyes, joining her palms to pray each morning after gettin’ ready.

Wish I could tell her that the whole Faithful Lambs is all a lie, but I doubt she would believe me. Her so-called Leader comes by every month buying guns in our warehouse. It’s pretty far from the idea of having clean hands. But I’m fucking sure he doesn’t show that part of himself to his folks, keeping that dark side hidden like a shameful secret. Keeping the whole cult thing rolling must cost a lot, hence why he started the gun business, selling to the Russian mob in the north, outside our territory.

Fuckin’ rotten to the bone.

Hate guys like this, wolves hidden behind the appearance of a lamb. I’m not afraid of darkness, but I prefer a psycho to behave like one. The whole fakin’ things with a smile and nice banter fuckin’ puts me off. Never liked hypocrites, even more now that I know Rose is connected to him.

A strange feeling of protectiveness rises in me. It has happened more the last weeks, as I was watching her every day, looking for signs of mistreatment on her. It had become a part of my routine as well, a step I must do, otherwise I will be on edge, like a fuckin’ new OCD, lookin’ at my phone compulsively, even though I knew she wouldn’t be in her room before nine each day.

She looked okay, following her routine, watching the window every night before going to sleep, as if she was lookin’ for me, pouting her full lips in disappointment at not seeing me day after day. Despite my rules of staying away, I wanted to come home fast and see her. I tried hiding my annoyance in front of the guys, but as we’re drinking a beer at the motel bar to end the day, Viper calls me out.

“So, what’s her name?” he says with a large grin.

“What do you mean?” I answer, trying to avoid him digging. He laughs, his long beard moving as he shakes his head.

“You’ve been glued to your fuckin’ phone all week, like you were hypnotized or somethin’.” I swallow hard, mad at myself for not hiding it better. But he knows me well, he was already road-captain when I got my first cut. I know he means well, but talkin’ about… things that matter isn’t my forte.

“Nothin’, just want to go back. Don’t like bein’ here too long.”

“Yeah, alright,” he says, not buyin’ it for one second.

I finish my drink and feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, but I resist the urge to look at it in front of Viper. Knowing my patience is about to snap, I stand up.

“Goin’ to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, brother.” He nods with a knowing smile but drops it. I almost jog to my room and take my phone out the second I close the door.

She's sitting on her bed, legs crossed, her palms holding her face. Her body convulses, and I get that she’s crying. Well, more like sobbing, actually. My chest tightens.

Fuck, why do I have to… feel? I don’t want that.

Getting closer to her is something I cannot do. My only goal is to fight for the club, making it stronger each time I get the chance and crushing our enemies to gain more territory.

I don’t need anything more.

But the sight of her crying makes me so fucking tense I punch the wall on my left, letting crumbs of it fall on the floor.

Seeing new notifications I haven’t had time to fully watch during the day, I notice a rather lively conversation with her mother in her room. Rose looks fucking mad and shakes her mom, grabbing her arms.

What’s goin’ on?

When her mom finally leaves, my angel curls up in her bed and sobs again. My hands start to shake.

Fuck it.

It’s an ten-hour drive to go back to Knoxville, but I can do it now and arrive at dawn. Perhaps I’ll get to see her, make sure that she’s okay. The business here is done, and we were planning to take the road tomorrow morning anyway, so it won’t change anything if I go now.

It changes everything and you know it.

Taking my bag, I leave the room and take the stairs to the parking lot. I put on my helmet and straddle my Harley.

It’s gonna be a long drive, but I can’t fucking help thinking that… it’s fucking worth it.

Rose

Nothing good came out of the meeting we had today with the Shepherd. My tears keep falling on my cheeks like a waterfall that cannot stop.

Earlier that day, we entered the Chapel, followed by two Elders, and reached the office of the Shepherd in the back of the building. His other office is at the top of the Institute, but this one is where members can ask for a session. My father gave me a deadly look before the door opened and our Leader appeared in our sight. His slim and tall frame sat in an expensive-looking armchair behind a massive carved wood desk. Stuffed deer on each side of the chimney gave the whole room an ancient look, as if it came from an old castle in England.

“To cleanse our sins…” he says, looking at the book in his hand.

“…We must obey,” my parents answered in one voice. Hidden behind them, I signed it.

“Come in, come in, my children,” he says, staying put, still reading his book. Ignoring our presence with his gaze.

Despite being around the same age as my parents, he refers to them like children. For some reason it gives me the ick. My parents fidget and walk inside looking everywhere with large smiles, like they got the keys to the kingdom. I stay behind them, my body tense, my nostrils stiff by the dusty smell of the place and the anticipation coursing through my veins.

He doesn’t invite us to sit.

Raising his gaze to us, he pushes on the elbows of the chair and stands, wearing his long white gown and an oddly thick silver watch.

What a strange thing to wear when you’re not supposed to display wealth.

I shake my head slightly. How dare I question my leader?

He’s the voice of reason.

“Rose, come in, little lamb.” My parents step aside, letting me walk across them toward the desk. I lower my head in sign of respect and humility as I hear his steps across the room until he stands in front of me, his chest at the level of my face. His hand grabs my chin, in a hard grasp I want to stay away from. But I stay still, behaving like my father has asked me.

I must behave; he is my leader.

Everything is as it’s supposed to be.

I mustn't fight it.

“How are you, Rose?” he asks, without giving me a notebook and a pen. All I can do is put a smile on my face and say “I'm fine, thank you,” hoping he's capable of reading my lips. Or perhaps he doesn't really care about my answer.

Why would he talk to me directly and not to my parents?

It's so strange.

“A lot going on in this little head of yours.” He chuckles. “You see, Rose,” he says with his strange high-pitched voice, putting his other hand on my shoulder. I jerk as a reflex, knowing no man should be allowed to do that. I notice my father slightly flinching on my right, but he stays put, like an obedient soldier.

The Shepherd continues, “Doubt can rise from the purest flower and become a weed hard to remove from the garden. In this case, Rose, it is best to protect the garden don’t you think?”

Not the most subtle metaphor to tell me to stop creating mess. I'm surprised it got to his ears so quickly. He doesn't look angry, even though I can’t look him in the eyes. His voice is calm, as if he was teaching me something, slowly enough for me to understand.

“Your Shepherd has found you a husband, little lamb,” he says, panic and fear building in me. He drops his hands off me and starts walking around the room.

“That's wonderful, thank you, Shepherd, we are so grateful. Could we know the name of the chosen one?” says my father, finally speaking. My mom stays silent, as she should. In our community, married women must remain by their husband's side and only speak to other men when explicitly asked by their husbands.

“Well, after thinking a lot about you, Rose, I couldn't help but notice the many difficulties you would be for any young man in the community,” he says, walking around the room slowly, gesturing with his oddly small hands.

“You can not speak, you don't mingle with the other women and you think a bit too much.” His last remark burned me more than I can admit.

I don't think too much. I think about what seems wrong.

There's a difference.

“No man here can tame a girl like you. And I don't want to have a ticking time bond parading in our community like a little liar. You need a real man to keep you on the right track,” he says harshly.

What? A liar?

My parents are shocked, my mom putting her palm on her chest, while my father's jaw drops on the floor.

“You will be marrying me, Rose. And I expect you to carry as many children as your womb can create.”

The world closes down on me, crushing my body and my soul in the process.

The Shepherd, our revered leader, taking me as his bride?

The very notion fills me with a bone-deep terror that paralyzes me. It's as if the ground beneath me has crumbled away, leaving me stranded in a sea of uncertainty and fear. I struggle to maintain my composure, but every fiber of my being rebels against the idea, recoiling from the thought of being bound to the Shepherd for eternity, a sixty year old man, more scary than my worst nightmare.

I want to shout, cry, or do anything to stop this reality from happening. But I’m powerless, like a lamb being led to the slaughter. And as the weight of my impending fate bears down on me, I can't help but wonder if there's any escape from the Shepherd's grasp, or if I'm destined to be his bride, bound to him in body and soul forever.

A voice in my head tells me that I must stay and obey; it’s what I was raised for.

“We are humbled by your kind gesture, Oh Shepherd. Rose will make the most marvelous wife and mother,” my father says with a large grin. He then pushes my mother's side with his elbow, allowing her to talk. She keeps her eyes down, but I can see as her hands shake that this idea unsettles her a bit.

“Wh-what an honor you make on, hum, our family, Oh Shepherd,” she says with her small voice. The Shepherd stops exploring the room and comes back to stand in front of me.

“Are you happy, Rose?” Grabbing my chin roughly, he makes me look into his eyes.

I nod, fighting back the tears, my brain frozen by the fear. I've seen him flogging a six-year-old for being late at the Sunday ritual, so I won’t try to make him angry. He smiles, getting closer to me, before murmuring in my ear, “Soon, Rose, soon your body will be mine.”

I freeze, trying as hard as I can to dissociate myself from this moment. I’m not here, I’m in my garden, with Vox, and we’re talking, I mean, I’m gardening while he watches me and perhaps, perhaps he would tell me about his biker life and all would be good in the world.

But I’m not in my garden. I’ve got a hand on me and black and white spots threatening me to make me pass out. I should be glad; it is an honor to marry the Shepherd. Our family will be even more admired and respected.

Only the idea of spreading my thighs for this old man makes me want to gag, and the more the idea sinks in, of this being my future, the more I feel the rise of a volcano in my chest.

One that has been sleeping for too long and perhaps needed a reminder to stay awake.

There’s something wrong with my life, I can feel it.

This is not normal.

But I need to fulfill my destiny and follow my leader's wishes. It’s what I was made for, right?

The drive back home is fast, my father talking non-stop about all the wedding preparation we must plan. My mother answers him while keeping a nervous eye on me now and then.

When we park in front of our house, I’m even more disappointed to not see Vox’s motorcycle.

He is still not home. Where could he be?

I… I need to see him. To know that there’s still good people on this earth who don’t want to hurt or use me.

I go straight to my room after removing my shoes in the entry. My mother follows me and closes the door once she’s in my room. Her eyes are wide, and her breathing quickens. She’s pacing in the room, which is unusual given her calm and discrete nature. I sit on my bed, watching her.

“It’s… it’s an honor, Rose. I’m, I’m so happy for you,” she says in a worried tone.

Is she worried about me? That would be a first.

I stand and grab her elbow to stop her from pacing the room.

“What is it, Mother? Isn't it something you wanted?” I sign, frowning my brows.

She sighs. “It’s just, I know we must follow our great leader to reach the Ascension…”

“But?” I sign, not getting where she’s going.

“I’ve heard about a few young girls he… cared for in the past.” She emphasizes the word cared . “Remember the girl from the Millers? The nice one with red hair?”

“Anna? Yes, she was in my class two years ago, what about her?” I sign.

“She… she disappeared. Her parents said she’d gone to live with a relative in Florida but I know her mother, and since she got engaged with the Shepherd at that time, they never saw her again.” I’m shocked to hear that he’s been engaged before, but then again, he’s a sixty-year-old man, why wouldn’t he? Anna was fifteen when she left to live with her grandparents. I still remember that she never said goodbye to us. Even though I wasn’t her friend, I knew everyone in class was shocked that one day she was there, and the next she was gone.

“Do you think the Shepherd has something to do with this?” I ask, almost looking over my shoulder. My mom freezes, quickly closing her eyes, and shaking her head.

“He, I’m sure our Shepherd did what was necessary for these girls to achieve the Ascension. But…” she swallows hard, looking nervously at my door, probably afraid of my father hearing her, “maybe, when the time comes, we’ll have to say goodbye to you too,” she says, as if insinuating the disappearance of your own child was a possibility.

I step forward and grab her arm, shaking her, looking in the depth of her eyes to try to put some sense into it.

Is she telling me that I’m going to have to leave to go wherever he sends the girls he claimed? I am going to die? What is going on?

Tears build in my eyes as I step back and sign to my mother.

“You’re going to let him have me? Body and soul?” I don’t care if I cross a line talking about lust, or the lack of it actually. I need to know if she’s really giving up on me and letting her eighteen-year-old daughter be raped by a sixty year old man. Because that’s exactly what I am asking, and she knows it. That’s why she was fidgeting at the Chapel today, because something deep inside her awoke at the idea of my flesh being ruined by this man, no matter his title.

But my mother is weak, so she didn’t put up a fight.

I know from some pictures I've found in our basement that she did have a normal life until she met my father when she was about my age. He’s the one who enrolled her in our community and she followed him blindly. But now she can’t see anymore, blinded by faith and fear. The woman she used to be, wearing a t-shirt on a beach in a polaroid I once saw, is no longer there. She was never affectionate with me, but she’s still here, making my food and making sure I have clothes on my back.

Probably not the ideal mother, but still, my mother.

And I know deep down she cares, otherwise she wouldn't be standing in front of me, struggling between reason and faith.

Is she right? Do I have to follow my heart or my duty?

“He will be your husband. It won’t be a sin…” she says.

“But, Mother, he’s, he’s an old man,” I sign, pleading, then pacing the room, crying my eyes out, turning to her.

She shakes her head, quickly closing her eyes as if the vision of me and the Shepherd was difficult for her to bear. “Rose, you must do your duty and carry his children. I’m sure with time… you will… it will all become natural,” she says with a frozen grin.

I’m in shock, trying to take her word for it and find a peace of mind. She begins to talk again when I raise my palm to her. I don’t want to hear it anymore. And I don’t have it in me to fight with her any longer. I just want her to go.

Walking to my door, I open it and show her the way out with my chin in a rough movement. There’s nothing to talk about anymore. My father is over the moon to have his child marrying our leader, and my own mother doesn’t fight the idea of my upcoming rape. I bet she just needed to appease her conscience, tell herself that at least she came to warn me. I sigh loudly, get on my bed, curl up on the cover and cry myself out.

I’m drowning in an ocean of fear and sorrow, confused about what I must do.

Freedom or duty.

I stay up all night crying, until the roar of a familiar engine gets me out of my tears. My heart quickens as I get up quietly, watching my clock. It’s five am.

Without taking a cardigan or my slippers, I reach the stairs to the living room and look over the garden.

Would it be so crazy to go out there and see him?