Chapter Four
Calee
I wake up feeling like death warmed over. Staring at the ceiling, I'm doing all I can to fight off the wave of nausea that's rolling through me. I groan and roll over in my bed, clutching my stomach and do everything I can to not throw up.
“You okay?”
I look up and find Ruth staring down at me, a look of concern on her face.
“Yeah, just not feeling well this morning,” I say. “Something I ate last night must not be agreeing with me.”
She laughs. “You sure you're not pregnant?”
“It would be ironic,” I say and roll my eyes.
Ruth, like me, is one of the “Fruitless” – wives of Raymond and the elders who, for whatever reason, have been unable to bear children. The whole thing is ridiculous. I'm only twenty-seven years old, so it's not like I'm past my peak child bearing years. But Raymond and the other elders have a taste for younger women. Much younger.
My parents married me off to Raymond when I was thirteen years old. Thirteen. And try as I might, I'll never be able to forget the horror that was my wedding night. It was the most painful, degrading, and humiliating experience I've ever had to endure. I hope that I never have to feel anything close to that ever again in my life.
For so long, I felt disgusting. Worthless. Like somebody whose only value to the world was as a womb Raymond could continue trying to fill with his seed. More times than I can remember, I swore to myself that if I ever ended up pregnant by him, I would find a way to abort the pregnancy – or just kill myself.
There was no way in hell I would ever allow myself to bear Raymond a child. Ever.
Eventually, I turned twenty-five and was deemed to be one of the Fruitless. Raymond set me aside as his wife and I was moved into the dorm at the back of the compound – home of the Fruitless. Unfortunately for them, most of the child brides Raymond and the elders had taken had been able to give them what they wanted – children.
And among those children, very likely, will be the next generation of child brides for Raymond and the sick bastards at the top of the sect's food chain.
Truth be told, I'm glad to have been set aside by Raymond. I'm glad to be away from him. To not having him touching me. To not having him doing the terrible things he made do when he had sex with me. I don't know if I'll ever be able to wash away the feeling of his hands and mouth on me. The feeling of having him inside of me.
I don't know if I'll ever be able to wash away the memories of the vile and demeaning acts he made me perform.
And honestly, it's only been over the last couple of years – mainly, since I found Danny, really – that I've started to rediscover my sense of self-worth. I still bear horrible scars – and probably will my entire life – but Danny is showing me that all of the things I came to believe about myself because of Raymond and the abuse I suffered at his hands aren't true. That I'm not worthless. That I'm not disgusting. That I have value to this world.
Some days are easier than others and there are still times I find myself mired in a deep, abiding, dark depression – but those days are beginning to become fewer and farther between.
“You better hide those. You never know when the Shepherds are going to have a surprise inspection,” she says, pointing to the stack of books beneath my bed. “And you know how Raymond feels about an educated woman.”
“Yeah, can't go getting too uppity,” I say.
“Uppity will get you twenty lashes out in the yard,” she replies. “But reading forbidden books will get you even more.”
And that's true. Anything that displeases Raymond and the elders – meaning anything they deem uppity, discourteous, or ungodly – earns you lashes. It's barbaric and yet, they will quote from Scripture to defend the practice. Actually, they quote from Scripture to defend everything they do out here on the Ark.
Ruth and I are currently, the only occupants in the dorm. I've been teaching Ruth to read and sharing some of the educational lessons Danny has given me with her. We have our duties out on the compound, of course. We have chores we are forced to do to “earn our keep” and help keep the Ark running.
But after dinner each night, we're expected to be back in our dorm, locked away from the rest of the sect – as if our childlessness is a contagious disease that can be caught. But being Fruitless meant we were exiled. We were banished from the sect. And yet – we were forbidden to leave the Ark.
All of that means that Ruth and I have a lot of time to ourselves. The isolation is impacting her far more than it impacts me. She craves the social interaction. Needs it. Wants it. And maybe it's because I have nothing but contempt and disgust for Raymond and his true believers – or maybe it's because I have Danny – but I'm happy to be isolated from them. Happy to not have to interact with their brand of lunacy.
But I can also understand Ruth's sense of loneliness. I haven't told her about Danny. I won't tell her about Danny. As much as I like Ruth – and I consider her my only real friend right now – I don't know if I can trust her. Not with something that big. If Raymond ever found out that I was sleeping with somebody from town, it would mean my death. No question about it.
“You really don't look too good,” Ruth says.
“I feel like I'm going to throw up.”
“It's going to make getting your chores done today a problem.”
“Maybe if I throw up all over the laundry, they'll grant me mercy.”
Ruth laughs. “Right. Because they're big on mercy.”
The bells at the small church begin to toll and it sends a charge of adrenaline through me. Ruth and I share a look, a sense of dread welling up within me. The bells only toll when we're called to chapel – and it's not a chapel day. Which means that somebody is set to be punished in the yard.
“Wonder who it is?” Ruth asks.
I shrug. “Does it matter?”
“Not really, I suppose.”
The only thing that does matter is that we are in attendance to bear witness. Everybody living on the Ark is required to be in the yard when punishment is doled out. Raymond believes it cleanses all of our souls and acts as a deterrent to bad behavior. Personally, I just think he gets off on making us all watch him display his power as the leader of the sect.
I sigh and put on the veil we're forced to wear. Ruth puts hers on and together, we step out of our cabin and into the bright light of the Wyoming morning.