WYNTER
My father storms into the house, and I freeze, careful to bow my head and not make eye contact. “You never learn,” he bellows, slapping me hard across the face. I can’t contain the cry as I fall to my knees. “God may have chosen your mother to birth you, but somehow, the devil intercepted and created you,” he yells, grabbing my hair and forcing me to look at his red, angry face. “You gave in to desires outside our holy place,” he screams, tugging harder. I try to ease his grip, digging my fingers into his hands. “I have no place for you here.”
“I didn’t do what he said,” I cry, trying to scramble to my feet as Father drags me from the kitchen towards the basement.
“You continue to disobey me after I gave you a home.”
“I was in the village adjusting the groceries,” I argue.
“I can’t even marry you off because you have disgraced yourself.” He pulls open the trapdoor and shoves me down the stone steps. I land in a bruised heap at the bottom. “You’ve made me a laughingstock.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Your only job is to serve your family. You can’t even do that with grace and dignity. Instead, you mock my laws and test my boundaries.”
“Laws made by men,” I scream, pushing to stand as he descends the stairs. I back off, feeling behind me along the cave walk but fixing my eyes on him. “Men who sin every single day,” I continue. “Yet you make laws to disguise your greed and dominance.”
He tips his head to one side, his smirk menacing. “Is that right?”
“You may fool all those women but not me, and you hate that I can see you for what you all are.”
“And what is that?” he asks, following me step for step.
“A perverted animal who gets pleasure by forcing women to have sex with monsters. An evil man who steals young children so he can make them into monsters.”
“And tell me, how do you know all this?”
My mind races. There’s no way back from this, but whatever the punishment, I’ll take it just to finally get the words off my chest. Words I’ve thought about for so long. “I see it all,” I tell him, my voice low and dangerous. “I see the bulges in men’s trousers while innocent daughters are taken by those beasts. I saw how your eyes lit up when they chased Summer around that room. You enjoyed it. And I know those little boys are not from our village or else you wouldn’t have them beaten for asking about their families.”
He arches a brow, and I feel smug knowing how I’ve surprised him with my knowledge. “So, where do you think those boys come from?”
I come to the opening of the cave, pausing before stumbling over a rock. He steps in too, pushing open his office door and indicating for me to go in. Instead, I shake my head, standing firm. “I taught myself to read,” I say, smiling wide. “The first book I read was the Holy Bible.” His eyes blaze with anger. “The real one, not your bullshit.”
His eyes widen. “And now you curse?”
“I’ve learned a lot.”
“How?” I press my lips in a firm line. There’s no way I can tell him that some of the villagers got access to a mobile phone device that showed us the outside world. It was a year or so ago, when a new family had joined us. They’re supposed to come with no possessions, ready for a new life, but their sixteen-year-old daughter wasn’t ready for that, and she showed us all kinds of things that happen outside our village. Things that made us question everything we’d ever been taught. Father snatches my wrist, twisting my arm up my back and pulling me against his front. “How?” he repeats.
“I worked it out,” I lie.
“Lies,” he yells, pushing me farther into his office.
I stumble, grabbing onto the desk. That’s when I notice the other men in the room. Cornelius, Adrian, and Silas all watch me as I straighten. “You thought you’d all come together to beat the devil from me?” I demand.
“You can’t see it, Wynter, but he is there,” says Adrian.
I try to slow my breathing as my heart hammers wildly. “No, he isn’t,” I yell. “The devil is no more real than God.” They all gasp. “How can he be real when he allows this?”
“The warrior bestowed upon your mother was strong, probably the strongest we’ve ever had,” says Adrian thoughtfully. “It was a shame when he had to leave us.”
“You killed him,” I snap, “like you do every fighter who no longer shows strength.”
“What kind of warrior would he be if we’d have kept him?” asks Cornelius, laughing. “You think they should fight when they’re too old and slow?”
“I think they have served a purpose and then you get rid of them. Why can’t they live amongst the villagers?”
All three of them laugh. “And this is why women can never be in charge,” my father states. “You’d have us set those feral men amongst women and children?”
