Under His Rule (His 1)

“Let’s talk about sins. Sins are not allowed. What are sins? Violence, trying to escape.” She throws me a stern look. “Gluttony, not doing your share of the workload, envying your brothers and sisters for their hut or their love, and defying the Lord’s will.”

I’m sure she means those arbitrary rules and rituals.

“And above all … do not ever defy a patriarch or the president. Oh, and before I forget, you are never to enter the temple without their explicit approval.”

“The temple?” the other girl mutters, raising her hand slightly.

“It is the Holy Place where the president and the patriarchs live. It is off-limits to anyone but the patriarchs’ most trusted elders.”

What a bunch of bullshit.

“Now, off you go. Back to your huts. An elder sister will escort you back.”

We get up, but I can’t stop to wonder whether the reason the women are picking us up is because the men can’t be trusted. I mean, they’re responsible for guarding the whole area, yet they don’t come anywhere near us. It’s as if they’re afraid … afraid they might commit sin. I’m pretty sure they’re not allowed to touch us … yet.

I’m not exactly sure what to expect, except that I’m to become someone’s wife. But what does the ritual entail? And what does it mean to be a wife?

I have so many questions that I’m too afraid to ask … because I honestly don’t want to know the answer. I just want to go home. But that’s not an option. Maybe I’ll be stuck here forever.

“Go on.” The elder sister pushes me out the door.

Out here, it’s survival mode for me. All I have is the other girl, the captured who’s walking right beside me. She’s the only person here who understands what I’m going through, who’s probably also questioning what the heck is going on here and what strange community we’ve ended up in. This girl is my only tether to the real world, the world I belong in, the world we were both snatched away from.

I glance at her, and she glances back. A look says more than a thousand words ever will, and when I reach for her fingers, she reaches for mine. No hand-holding, just touching, hoping no one will notice, hoping no one will care enough to correct us.

I just want this one physical connection with someone who knows how I feel. Just this one thing … it means the world to me, and I know she can tell because her eyes well up with tears every time she takes a small glance.

We both continue walking in the same direction, following an elder sister who guides our way. I’m waiting, pacing my steps, wondering when the time will come when the elder sister will tell us to stop and change roads. The moment that I’ll lose this small connection to reality.

But it never comes.

Instead, we’re both waiting in front of the same hut as the elder sister unlocks it and opens the door.

“In you go. A map of the Holy Land is in your drawers, should you need it. We’ll come and get you when it’s time.”

We both go inside, and she closes the door on us, locking it too.

I stare at the girl, and she stares at me.

The moment seems to last forever.

I’m afraid to say a word, to even open my mouth. Are they watching? Will they punish us if we do? I have so many questions, so many things I want to say to her. So I ask the one, single thing that’s been on my mind since the moment I saw her.

“Was it you? In that dark, concrete cell?” My teeth clatter as I speak the words.

She licks her lips, tears running down her cheeks. And when she nods, the whole façade of this place seems to drop off my shoulders.

I run toward her and hug her tight. It’s what I’ve wanted to do since we both came here, but I never had the chance, and when they took her, I never thought I’d see her again.

“You’re alive,” I mutter.

“I’m surprised too,” she replies, wiping away her tears with her sleeve.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve done something to stop them,” I say.

“It’s not your fault,” she replies. “Besides, it’s not as if you could escape them either.”

That’s true, though I don’t like that it is.

I lean back and look her in the eyes. “What’s your name?”

“April.”

I smile. It’s a beautiful name. “I’m Natalie.”

“Natalie … I wish I asked before, but I just … forgot.” She shrugs.

“Me too. But we were stuck in a hellhole. Anyone would forget.” I let out a big breath. “At least this place has windows. And we have beds. And a toilet.”

“A toilet?” Her eyes light up as though she’s been given a gift for Christmas, which is a sad thing to realize.