2. Hans
CHAPTER 2
Hans
W e climb through the small window, barely getting out without a scrape or a cut from the rusted nails on the peeling wood frame, and run into the wild unknown of the woods.
I don’t know how long we run before Margarete tugs at my arm, forcing me to turn toward her. “There’s nowhere to go, Hans.”
Her breath hitches as I pull my arm from her touch. “No, Margarete.” I cup her face and touch my forehead to hers. “They didn’t want us to know there was a way out, but there is. I promise it’s not much further.”
She stares into the night, hesitation and regret visible on her face.
“The woods are safer, Margarete.”
She freezes at the thought of entering the demonic lair. Our mothers told us not to go into the woods. They said it was where evil lived—the devil who stole their sisters. From a young age, the females were told about the demon who tempted pious girls and turned them into jezebels of the dark.
Her words are shaky. “I don’t want to damn myself by losing my faith.”
Margarete and I have already broken our vows by loving each other. There’s no going back because, according to The Covenant, we’re despicable sinners.
“I think we’re far past that, don’t you?”
“I know we already broke the rules, but that was different. We can ask forgiveness for our infraction, but if we abandon our faith, our people, there will be no coming back.”
“Why would we want to come back?” I sigh and grab her hands. “Faith is a spectrum. Loving God is not an all-or-nothing concept. I refuse to believe that someone who is supposed to be loving and kind would force his daughters to live a life of subjugation.” Her breath hitches as I tuck her hair behind her ear. “I don’t know much, and I’m not sure of a lot, but I know that no good divine power would want you to be his. I wouldn’t love you the way I do if that were the plan. God isn’t cruel, Margarete. He can’t be.”
I place a gentle kiss on her forehead before tossing her satchel across my shoulder and tugging her hand.
“I’m scared of what will happen to us out there.” Her words are a whisper, barely audible, but they might as well be a thunderous roar in my ears.
“And I’m terrified of what will happen to us if we stay.”
Margarete nods. “We can’t make it by foot, Hans. They’ll catch us.”
I pull her further into the darkness. “We aren’t walking.”