Chapter 1
Andilyn
Six years.
Six long, arduous years I’ve been chipping away at the shackles Veritas has ensconced my entire being in.
Of making myself small and amenable to the psychosis this place feeds off of, like it’s sustaining their debauchery one punishment at a time.
There are no words to adequately describe the evil that lives within these walls.
Contorting myself into something meek and malleable has been the only way to ensure my continued survival.
And even then, every day is a battle, and I never know where the cards are going to fall.
If I’ll lose the fight to keep my emotions in check, if every hate-fueled thought will come roaring to the forefront and reveal everything I’ve worked so hard to mask.
I’ve grown accustomed to walking on eggshells.
I’ve been tiptoeing through life for as long as I can remember.
Before Veritas, I was reluctant to ever show interest in anything, afraid my parents would make it the basis for their next personality trait.
Appealing to their sensible side was a full-time job, leaving no room for childish fantasies or make-believe.
As for my current situation, I think my reasoning for being keenly aware of everything I say and do goes without explanation.
I’ve become an expert at manipulating conversations to avoid interaction as much as possible–the fewer opportunities I’m given to be disobedient, the better.
After years of trying to make sense of Tobias’ devastating betrayal, I’ve finally concluded that any time spent pondering that particular line of thought is a waste of mental effort.
I’ll never know why he changed in the blink of an eye or seemingly suppressed his true emotions so easily, because it would never occur to me to be so disgustingly deceitful, especially with someone I claim to be in love with.
One day he was everything, and the next he was nothing.
Worse than nothing, he was the enemy, and he damn sure doesn’t deserve the countless hours I’ve spent agonizing over the hurt he’s caused me.
It takes concentrated effort not to allow my mind to wander down that path on a daily basis.
When someone violates a boundary your mind has erected between right and wrong, it feels confusing and deeply personal.
It’s a moral injury, where your core beliefs are disrupted by someone you’ve trusted behaving in a manner in which you couldn’t fathom doing so yourself.
I frequently have to remind myself of this.
Still, at the end of the day, it’s pointless to expend the energy needed to try and decipher the whys of it all, because I’ll never understand or relate to the actions of someone whose heart is so vastly different from mine.
Although the particulars of what triggered Tobias’ complete about-face remain a mystery, it was abundantly clear to both of us that his duplicity left me in the worst position possible.
He knew every secret I’d foolishly confided in him.
How strongly I detested Veritas and the lengths I was willing to go to in order to gain my freedom.
That insider knowledge has kept me under a microscope for the entirety of our so-called marriage.
It took me four years to gain enough trust to accompany the others during their monthly trip to the Farmer’s Market.
Integrating themselves into the local community is one of the many tactics that Veritas has deployed to remain under the radar.
They blend in just enough to not raise concerns while remaining politely elusive, so as not to encourage engagement from outsiders.
I’ve had plenty of time to formulate a plan, one that didn’t include any aspect of Tobias’, not that I’m actually under the illusion he ever intended to see it through.
He’d expect that of me, not believing I could orchestrate something so meticulous on my own.
But every step has been akin to pulling teeth.
This is real life, though, not a movie, where conflicts are resolved within the span of ninety minutes, and the villain gets his just desserts in a timely manner.
Roadblock after roadblock, I’ve had to remind myself that reality doesn’t actually mimic the ease or rapidity with which those stories always seem to work themselves out.
Or maybe some people are just born with a horseshoe up their ass, and I’m the antithesis of anything remotely resembling good fortune.
But for once in my irrefutably miserable life, it’d be great if things would go to plan.
I fear that might be asking too much of the universe, though.
Regrettably, it took six visits to the market before I could initiate the first phase.
I knew the probability of succeeding on my own was slim to none, so recruiting outside help was paramount to my getting the hell out of here.
But I knew, without a doubt, there’d be no room for error.
I was diligent and thorough in doing my homework, surreptitiously studying every nuanced routine and protocol Veritas had implemented for leaving the compound.
I analyzed the role of each individual until I felt certain I’d memorized all the moving parts, and when the time finally came, I acted.
With trembling fingers, I hastily scribbled a note on one of the handwritten receipts a customer had left behind.
As we began to stow away the fruits and vegetables that hadn’t sold, I deliberately made eye contact with the officer tasked with patrolling that day and slid the piece of paper into a crevice on the wood-planked tabletop.
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I truly believed he saw the desperation in my eyes, so when nothing happened, it put a chink in the armor I’d built to protect myself from disappointment.
The following month, Tobias insisted I stay behind and tend to other matters around the compound.
I was certain he’d caught wind of what I’d been up to, knowing he had spies lurking around every corner, and they were all frothing at the mouth to remind me of my place in the pecking order.
I feigned sickness the next month, hoping to throw Tobias off just in case he was growing suspicious.
It took another three outings before I worked up the courage to try again.
At that point, I’d have been happy to catch the attention of anyone with the faintest bit of influence.
A smartly dressed businessman would’ve sufficed, so long as they passed along my message to the proper authorities.
Shockingly, the idea actually held some merit.
As I homed in on my target, I briefly noted his bronzed hand wrapped around a fancy cup of coffee.
I offered a silent apology for the inevitable demise of the overpriced concoction, then turned at the last possible second to ensure we made contact with one another.
Our collision was unavoidable, and the crate of apples I’d been carrying scattered in every direction.
As we both knelt to try and contain the mess, I feverishly whispered the words I’d been too scared to utter before that very moment.
They aren’t what you think. I need your help. Please. Don’t make a scene.
Whatever he saw, whatever inflection my voice held, it’d been enough to pique his interest. I’ll never forget the way his rich brown eyes held mine.
The nanosecond it took for him to understand the severity of what I was implying, even though he’d been given next to nothing in the way of context.
He smiled, playing the part of a clumsy stranger as he apologized profusely for the accident I’d been the cause of.
And as he handed me the last of the apples I’d been corralling, he used the brief moment our hands touched to slip me his business card.
I thanked him for his help, smiled politely, and left without a backward glance.
I pleaded with every deity in existence that my outward appearance portrayed nothing but the calm shell of obedience I’d been trained to emulate.
I was certain the Elder in charge of the outing was scrutinizing my every move and picking apart our interaction with a fine-toothed comb, but questioning something so perceivably innocent in a public setting would’ve brought about more scrutiny than Veritas could afford.
I proceeded with business as usual, ringing up customers and patiently answering their mundane questions.
I never let my smile slip, nor did I flee to the restroom when I was given the chance.
I’d come too far to ruin the sliver of hope that small piece of cardstock was bestowing me with.
I didn’t dare draw attention to myself, but the second I was certain their focus was elsewhere, I lifted the crate it sat beneath and began to roll the paper as tightly as I could.
When I decided it was small enough, I twisted my hair into a braided knot at the nape of my neck and tucked it between some of the thicker strands.
Paranoia bred the extreme lengths I felt were a necessity.
I’d witnessed too many people succumb to their arrogance when it came to Veritas.
I knew at any point I could be interrogated, and likely would be, because everything these monsters do and say is scripted, especially when it comes to the public.
My engaging in polite conversation away from prying eyes would undoubtedly raise concerns.
Despite the anxiety flooding my system, I kept focused on the task at hand, refusing to let years’ worth of planning be swept away because I couldn’t adopt the air of apathy the situation required.
It took sixteen days before I was able to read the business card I’d been given. I managed to hide it amongst the pebbles that bordered the well-house, but sneaking away undetected was no easy feat. Imagine my shock when the words that greeted me finally registered.
Det. Raiden Cortés
Chaplain County Police Department