Under His Rule

The guards ignore me, but the woman doesn’t.

She can’t take her eyes off me, and neither can I as I’m dragged all the way back through the door. A final peek is all I get. One single glance … before the door is shut tight, and the promise of truth flies away with the wind.

Noah

“Was that …?” Marsha mutters, her hand slowly covering her mouth. When she turns her face toward me, the look in her eyes changes. She immediately marches over to me and grabs my wrist. “You promised me!”

Fuck. If I’d known Natalie would go and do that, I would’ve never let the two of them exist in the same space.

I shake myself loose from her grip. “Things. Change.”

“You son of a … You can’t do this. This is wrong, and you know it,” she says, shaking her head. “You saw how she yelled!”

“Don’t. Make. A. Scene,” I growl, trying to keep my voice low. “That was the deal, and you broke your end, remember?”

She makes a face. “You know exactly why. She doesn’t belong here, and you know that.”

The president gets up from his chair too and approaches us with care. “What’s going on?” he asks.

Marsha side-eyes him over her shoulder. “Nothing, dear.”

“Are you sure? Because you two sure seem to be having a heated conversation,” he says, folding his arms as he comes to stand right beside his wife.

“Marsha is just feeling a little sick today. Aren’t you, Marsha?” I say, cocking my eyes while staring at her.

She swallows away the lump in her throat and presses her hand against her chest, right where her bruise is. “Ah … yes.” She coughs a couple of times and turns around to face her husband with a charitable smile on her face. “I almost felt the need to go to the bathroom just now. But I’m okay. I don’t want to ruin the ceremony.”

A tepid smile shortly adorns his face. “I’m glad to hear.” He clears his throat and addresses the crowd of people hanging on his every word. “Let us continue the ceremony and start the rituals.”

The people cheer and dance, and then the fucking recommences.

Still, Marsha glares at me from the corner of her eyes.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” she mutters. “You’ve ruined everything.”

“Marsha.” The president looks her way, narrowing his eyes at her with a certain hint of a threat hiding behind it.

It’s a threat she knows all too well.

And after a final glance my way, she turns and walks back to his seat, where she stands behind him like a wife should in this community.

But she’s no ordinary wife, and she knows that.

And it’d be a fucking shame if her husband discovered that too.

Natalie

A week later

I scrub the floors on all fours until my fingers are raw and my feet ache so much I can barely stand. After the guards brought me to my hut and locked me in, an elder sister came to give me my punishment; washing all the floors in all the huts … across the entire community for a week.

It wasn’t a punishment I’d accept with a smile, but it was this or go back to the concrete hut with no windows and no water or food, so I chose this.

Now I’m not so sure it was the right decision, but it’s too late to turn back and ask for forgiveness. I don’t think they’d accept it regardless of whether I tried. I ruined the ceremony. Literally shouted on the top of the roof at someone I don’t even know.

At least, that’s what they think … but I know my eyes don’t lie. She saw me, and she reacted.

She knows me just as well as I know her. The only question is how?

Suddenly, the door opens, and I stop scrubbing for a second. My fingers hurt as I look up. An elder’s wife stands before me, the same one who taught me at their uncivilized “school.” She throws me a demoralizing gaze, her eyes devoid of any sympathy whatsoever at the sight of my crumpled up fingers.

“It’s time,” she says.

I put down the brush and sit up on my knees. Time for what?

“Come with me,” the woman says, opening the door farther.

I get up and pick up the bucket and brush, but she says, “Leave it. Someone else will clean that up.”

Okay … what the heck is going on? Is my punishment over, or am I in for something way worse?

I follow her out, and we walk all the way back to my hut, surprisingly. Emmy, Holly, and April are there waiting, and the moment the elder’s wife leaves, they grab me and take off my clothes again.

“Ah, stop, what are you doing?” I mutter between being shuffled around.

“Getting you dressed, silly,” Emmy explains.

“For what? We just had a ceremony yesterday,” I say.