Chapter 57
So sing me a story, dear, I’m down on my knees,
Praying to Heaven, bring me back, please.
So sleep, my darling, don’t you be scared,
The Wall made us whole, love, and so we were spared.
The village’s childhood lullaby, passed down from grandparents to grandbabies, is not a sweet family song, but rather the prison lament of those serving a multi-generational life sentence.
This place is not perfection, it’s a prison.
My ancestors weren’t brave settlers. They weren’t even Founders.
They were depraved killers, exiled from society.
And we, their descendants, are dying at the hands of the very Beast designed to guard them.
My world is shattered. A sticky bleakness crawls in through my mouth, my nostrils, my pores, gagging me.
I don’t have the presence of mind to avoid Guardians, so it’s good I don’t encounter any as I blunder toward the only comfort I know: the Apothecary cottage.
Gran is seated in her chair by the fire when I spill inside.
I stagger over, dropping at her feet, and spew everything I’ve learned.
I considered David’s warning about inflicting this burden on others, but I won’t keep his secret.
Gran wouldn’t want me to. She pats my head as I talk, letting me choke it out.
She doesn’t speak until I have no more words or tears.
“Is that all, Rosie?”
I lift my head from her lap, swiping at my nose. “What do you mean, is that all? Our ancestors were monsters!” Poor Jonas. This is what he’d seen in the vault, it must be, and he’d had to shoulder it alone.
Gran’s face creases with pity. I don’t understand. But then I do.
“You knew?” I ask.
“Yes.” She rubs my head one last time before reaching for her mug of tea.
“A handful of my generation know. Or did, before Jarek or old age took us. We had a Record Keeper in our day not much smarter than Simon.” Her mouth twitches.
“She told someone she wanted to impress that the Valley was started as a prison colony, and it wasn’t long until a handful of us found out. ”
I can’t believe how calm she is. “It didn’t bother you?”
“Shush,” she says, pursing her lips. “We are what we do, not what our ancestors did.”
I blink. This is not going at all how I expected. “But they were murderers. They tortured people!”
She grimaces. “I’ll grant you the original settlers did dreadful things, based on what I’ve heard.
” She tips my chin back, so I’m forced to look her in the eye.
“But within the Wall, they couldn’t avoid one another.
They had to figure out how to work together.
They had Circling, and dinner swaps, and barn buildings, and Story Time, and all the other wonderful ways we know to live in community.
Many would have considered them impossible to rehabilitate—maybe I would have, too, if I hadn’t seen this place—but they managed to do it for themselves.
Isn’t the fact that we haven’t had a single murder inside the Wall, not by the original prisoners or their descendants, until your mother was killed, proof that we are not our history? ”
“Killed by Jarek.”
“Maybe so, but it’s because we failed him first,” she says, echoing what Augustus told me. “If he broke the social contract, he’ll need to atone for it. But we broke it, too, especially my generation, who looked away when he was young and needing.”
My skepticism must be written on my face, because she cups my cheek and continues.
“Dear Rosie, I know it’s so much to take in.
I’ve had a lifetime to reason with this knowledge, but I was just as scared as you when I first found out.
I want you to come to your own conclusions, my love.
I mean that. But if you’ll spare an old woman her pulpit for just a moment longer, I’ll tell you how I came to see it.
I’ve never been able to talk so freely before. ”
Because I cannot bring myself to quash the spark in her voice, I nod.
Gran smiles, the creases around her mouth deepening.
“I believe we’re at a turning point in the Valley.
Everything we’ve worked so hard to build for the past five generations is in peril.
We have a lot to own up to, but there are more people than you know on the side of good.
True good. They just need someone to organize, to rally around in this moment.
” Her eyes soften. “If you choose it, I believe that someone could be you.”
My laugh surprises me. “Who would follow me? I don’t exactly have a reputation for rebellion around here.”
Gran shakes her head, and the small effort clearly drains her. “Not follow you. Trust you. And your loyalty is exactly why they would!” I hear in her voice that she truly believes it, though I can’t bring myself to share her faith. But she’s not done.
“Within the Wall, we don’t have rulers,” she says.
“Or at least, we didn’t use to. Everything worth doing, we did in community.
Tell me, Rose.” Her voice is growing thin, reedy.
I know her energy is almost up. “How’d you get here?
To the Apothecary cottage, right now, when you’re meant to be locked and guarded beneath the chapel? ”
I rub my temples, trying to keep a throbbing headache at bay.
Gryphon came for me. Oscar, Meryl, Eero, and Sal made me go, even though I wanted to stay with them.
Then Sojourner lent me her cloak and helped me slip out through the back door of her office.
It is a lot of people, when I lay it out like that, but what do they expect of me?
“My friends helped,” I finally answer. It’s true. Moreover, it’s what Gran hoped to hear.
Her resulting smile is interrupted, body suddenly racked with coughs. I jump to my feet, making sure her throat is clear before gently rubbing her back. When she’s able to breathe again, I rush to get her water. She takes a few sips, but she’s so weak. She’s unable to talk anymore.
I prop her up with a pillow, making sure the fire is fed and her pain tonic in reach. When I ask her if she wants me to stay, she waves me away. I fear she’s hanging on just for me. I can’t let her down, but I have no idea what it looks like to succeed.
I pull Gran’s blanket up around her neck, kiss her forehead, and step outside. Voices to my right startle me, so I tug up my red hood and hurry back the way I came.
I reach the chapel just as the bells start to ring.