Chapter 20
Almost an hour later, we still haven’t gotten up for dinner.
We can’t eat after all that.
I notice, given how pale she is, that talking about the past hurts her, but I need to know.
I thought that having lived those days as Angelo’s prisoner, risking being trafficked into sexual slavery, would be the worst nightmare of her life.
I was wrong. Elodie was born into one.
I’ve read about fundamentalist cults, and in some accounts there was mention of pedophilia, but I, like most people, couldn’t really believe that parents, whose supreme duty is to protect their children, would use their kids as objects for their sick pleasures.
According to how Elodie tells it, the mothers are brainwashed and therefore go along with it, or at least accept those sick acts as they are sold to them: something normal.
I can’t be that generous, that condescending.
Nor can I let them off the hook. Even a child knows the difference between right and wrong.
Only if they were born into the cult, which was the case for her and Amber, could I understand that supposed brainwashing.
But from what she’s telling me, all the women, her mother included, came to the community and stayed there of their own free will.
Not even when they realized that the older women began to “disappear,” probably because the leaders wanted free rein to do as they pleased with the teenagers, did the others rebel and take a stand.
I’m holding myself back from pulling her into my arms because I sense she needs space to finish telling me.
Still, it’s against my nature not to offer protection. It’s precisely because of that immutable trait in my personality that I won’t stop until I wipe out every member of Angelo’s bloodline.
There are no limits to what I’ll do to protect those I love.
“I still can’t understand how the authorities could turn a blind eye like that,” I say.
“I think we were the weird ones. Nobody really knew what went on the farm. To them, we were just crazy people who prayed all day. It’s very easy to look the other way so you don’t have to face what bothers you.”
“To me, the authorities, by doing nothing, are responsible for everything those girls go through.”
I see her grip the edge of the table so hard her knuckles go white.
Then she stands up and runs out.
I go after her. “Elodie.”
“What you’re accusing them of—I’m guilty, too, Gianni. We left them there.”
“No, you told me you tried to report it several times. What else could you do? March in armed? Don’t you see that there’s no way you’re responsible for that?”
“We wanted to forget!”
“What?”
“When we first escaped, my sister and I had a lot of nightmares, but then, by mutual agreement, without even needing to talk about it, we just kept going, trying not to go mad. If you knew how many times I planned to get them out of there. To try to break in and save them, even if. . .”
“Even if what?”
“Even if maybe they wouldn’t want to come.”
“How could they not want to?”
“After a while, I think most believed what they were told, that they were saving their own souls and those of the elders by letting themselves be used. I never heard any of the wives complain.”
“Yes, maybe you’re right. They may have terrorized them to the point that they thought they were safer inside the community. That doesn’t change what I said before, though.”
“What?”
“If you went back there, you’d certainly end up dead or imprisoned again. If there’s any guilt, it lies with the mothers who keep living on the farm even after witnessing the abuse. You and Amber were practically children, from what you told me.”
Elodie told me she was not yet fifteen when they decided to run, but she still hasn’t said what triggered it.
From what I’ve been able to piece together, over the years it seems the adult women procreate, and then, after they have borne a certain number of children, they are discarded.
Their own daughters take their places as reproducers.
Elodie also said they can only wear white and never cut their hair.
“What happened that made you leave, Elodie?”
“My birthday was coming up. I already intended to escape anyway, but there was an event that made me flee immediately with my sister.”
“Tell me.”
“At fifteen, we were to be married. We didn’t know what happened behind closed doors, but they called it the ceremony of love[7], a rite of passage. However, after nearly a week locked away with the elders, all the girls who came out of there were sent to the community infirmary for over a month.”
I feel a lead ball in my stomach as I wait for her to continue. “Come here.”
“I don’t need consolation.”
“I do.”
I don’t wait for her to protest again. I pull her into my arms and hold her tight.
“My sister witnessed one of the possession ceremonies, which is what they call the encounters between the young girls and the elders after the marriage. It’s always everyone with just one girl, Gianni.
She told me in detail what she saw. The next day, Amber went into shock.
She didn’t speak, barely breathed. I knew we couldn’t wait any longer, so we ran. ”
She is trembling.
I pick her up and start climbing the stairs toward the room I know was assigned to her.
“You’re free, Elodie,” I repeat over and over after laying her on the bed, but I know that somewhere in her mind, she’s still there at that damned farm.
Her beautiful eyes are glazed over, and I get up to call a doctor friend of mine.
“They’ll keep doing it forever,” she says when I end the call.
“Not if I have anything to do with it.”
Half an hour after the doctor examines her and sedates her so she can rest, I still can’t leave the room. I sit in the armchair a short distance from the bed, keeping watch over her sleep.
When, hours later, I’m sure she won’t wake again tonight, I go to my office on the first floor.
I dial, and Abaddon answers on the first ring.
“I need your services again.”
“I can meet you in Rome tomorrow night. My mission in Asia was canceled. Did something happen? Elodie. . .”
“Yes, it’s about her, but it’s not what you’re thinking. I’ll see you tomorrow.”