Deep Redemption
Page 14
I just didn’t know. As the questions circled in my head, I realized that, in that moment, I didn’t even care.
Brother Michael delivered one final rapid punch to my back and I fell to the floor, my knees buckling with the pain. My palms pressed down on the stone floor as I fought for breath.
Brothers Michael and James wrenched me back to my feet and pulled me from the punishment cell. I shook with every step I took. And with every new step, my anger grew. I could feel it infusing every part of my body, bitterness seeping into my veins like an intravenous drip.
The door to the cell house opened. Sensing someone was near, I lifted my head to see two new guards standing at the entrance. They were both dark haired, with dark eyes. They were heavily muscled, with short hair and dark-stubbled cheeks. They looked as if they were related. Each of them held an AK-47 in their hands, and they were dressed in the typical black clothing and heavy boots of the disciple guards. They flicked their chins at the guards holding me. When their eyes fell to me, their lips curled in disgust.
As I was dragged back to my cell, I noticed an older man and an older woman preparing food at the end of the long hallway. They both looked toward me, but quickly turned away when the guards from the entrance ordered, “Work!”
The guards threw me into my cell. As my cheek slammed against the stone floor, I couldn’t contain my rage any longer. Using the residual adrenaline pulsing through me, I launched myself to my feet and let out five weeks’ worth of screams. I paced around the room in staggered steps, my legs stinging and throbbing as blood rushed to my muscles.
My gaze locked onto the wall of tallies. I counted them. “Thirty-five,” I growled, my voice now husky from overuse. I picked up my sharpened rock from the floor and slammed it against the stone wall, the sharp edge slicing into my palm. I let the rock fall to the ground.
I was back in this cell, left to rot, caged like an animal. Stepping back, I picked up the bloodied rock and, with shaky hands, brought it back to the wall. Starting a new tally, I scraped five new lines on the wall. “Forty . . . ”
I couldn’t stand anymore. I slumped to the floor, leaning against the wall. My torso and back were on fire in the aftermath of the beating.
The silence in the cell was deafening as I sat on the hard floor, the humid air clinging to my skin like glue. The crackling of the commune’s speakers preceded an announcement; Judah’s voice came bursting through the window of my cell.
“People of New Zion. Today’s Lord’s Sharing will commence in fifteen minutes.”
I froze. Ice trickled down my spine when I thought of what would happen in that hall. I felt sick as I remembered the only Lord’s Sharing I had seen. Grown men raping small girls, Judah lapping it up; Sarai, his willing consort, writhing by his side.
I closed my eyes and fought back another scream. The cell darkened as storm clouds closed in, smothering the blue sky. A fitting metaphor for what was happening to me inside. Light was being stubbed out, like a candle in a hurricane. I could feel the talons of bitterness sinking into my soul. The only other time I had felt this way was when I had infiltrated the Hangmen. Then, I had been disgusted by their sinful life, knowing my faith was the only path to salvation.
Now I was beginning to think that as impure as those men were, at least they had honor and pride. And I was damn sure they wouldn’t have raped children in the name of Hades or the club.
My hands shook. My chest was so tight I feared my muscles might snap. It amazed me how quickly I was spiraling into darkness. I could almost feel my torn heart turning black.
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. I tried to will myself to sleep, just to get the hell away from this crushing reality, if only for a while. But my ears pricked up when I heard a sound coming from the cell beside mine. I frowned. I was alone in these cells, wasn’t I? No one but the guards had been here since I was imprisoned. The guards, and apparently the new people that were preparing food.
I listened harder. I didn’t hear anything at first. I thought I must have mistaken the sound of the guards for something else. But then I heard it again.
I pressed my ear to the stone. Small sniffing sounds drifted through the thick wall. I listened more closely, making sure it wasn’t the pain making me imagine things. But I heard it again, accompanied by a light cough.
My pulse beat faster. There was someone there. I shuffled forward, searching the wall. At the bottom of the cell, there was a small gap where some old cement had worn away. I lowered my chest to the ground, trying to see through. The gap was too small for me to see anything, but as I pressed my ear to it, I could hear the sounds more clearly.
Brother Michael delivered one final rapid punch to my back and I fell to the floor, my knees buckling with the pain. My palms pressed down on the stone floor as I fought for breath.
Brothers Michael and James wrenched me back to my feet and pulled me from the punishment cell. I shook with every step I took. And with every new step, my anger grew. I could feel it infusing every part of my body, bitterness seeping into my veins like an intravenous drip.
The door to the cell house opened. Sensing someone was near, I lifted my head to see two new guards standing at the entrance. They were both dark haired, with dark eyes. They were heavily muscled, with short hair and dark-stubbled cheeks. They looked as if they were related. Each of them held an AK-47 in their hands, and they were dressed in the typical black clothing and heavy boots of the disciple guards. They flicked their chins at the guards holding me. When their eyes fell to me, their lips curled in disgust.
As I was dragged back to my cell, I noticed an older man and an older woman preparing food at the end of the long hallway. They both looked toward me, but quickly turned away when the guards from the entrance ordered, “Work!”
The guards threw me into my cell. As my cheek slammed against the stone floor, I couldn’t contain my rage any longer. Using the residual adrenaline pulsing through me, I launched myself to my feet and let out five weeks’ worth of screams. I paced around the room in staggered steps, my legs stinging and throbbing as blood rushed to my muscles.
My gaze locked onto the wall of tallies. I counted them. “Thirty-five,” I growled, my voice now husky from overuse. I picked up my sharpened rock from the floor and slammed it against the stone wall, the sharp edge slicing into my palm. I let the rock fall to the ground.
I was back in this cell, left to rot, caged like an animal. Stepping back, I picked up the bloodied rock and, with shaky hands, brought it back to the wall. Starting a new tally, I scraped five new lines on the wall. “Forty . . . ”
I couldn’t stand anymore. I slumped to the floor, leaning against the wall. My torso and back were on fire in the aftermath of the beating.
The silence in the cell was deafening as I sat on the hard floor, the humid air clinging to my skin like glue. The crackling of the commune’s speakers preceded an announcement; Judah’s voice came bursting through the window of my cell.
“People of New Zion. Today’s Lord’s Sharing will commence in fifteen minutes.”
I froze. Ice trickled down my spine when I thought of what would happen in that hall. I felt sick as I remembered the only Lord’s Sharing I had seen. Grown men raping small girls, Judah lapping it up; Sarai, his willing consort, writhing by his side.
I closed my eyes and fought back another scream. The cell darkened as storm clouds closed in, smothering the blue sky. A fitting metaphor for what was happening to me inside. Light was being stubbed out, like a candle in a hurricane. I could feel the talons of bitterness sinking into my soul. The only other time I had felt this way was when I had infiltrated the Hangmen. Then, I had been disgusted by their sinful life, knowing my faith was the only path to salvation.
Now I was beginning to think that as impure as those men were, at least they had honor and pride. And I was damn sure they wouldn’t have raped children in the name of Hades or the club.
My hands shook. My chest was so tight I feared my muscles might snap. It amazed me how quickly I was spiraling into darkness. I could almost feel my torn heart turning black.
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. I tried to will myself to sleep, just to get the hell away from this crushing reality, if only for a while. But my ears pricked up when I heard a sound coming from the cell beside mine. I frowned. I was alone in these cells, wasn’t I? No one but the guards had been here since I was imprisoned. The guards, and apparently the new people that were preparing food.
I listened harder. I didn’t hear anything at first. I thought I must have mistaken the sound of the guards for something else. But then I heard it again.
I pressed my ear to the stone. Small sniffing sounds drifted through the thick wall. I listened more closely, making sure it wasn’t the pain making me imagine things. But I heard it again, accompanied by a light cough.
My pulse beat faster. There was someone there. I shuffled forward, searching the wall. At the bottom of the cell, there was a small gap where some old cement had worn away. I lowered my chest to the ground, trying to see through. The gap was too small for me to see anything, but as I pressed my ear to it, I could hear the sounds more clearly.
