Prologue #3
My insides recoil in remembrance of what transpired today, refusing to acknowledge the gleam of possession in Tobias’ eyes as I was deemed his property.
As far as I’m concerned, I belong to no one.
Even before Veritas, my life and well-being were never entrusted to anyone but me.
I’m the one who ensured I was fed and bathed.
I taught myself to read and write. I did the required research to enroll in a homeschool program and completed it three years ahead of schedule.
It was me who scoped out every backwoods town my parents ventured to, making note of where the hospital was located just in case something happened that I wasn’t equipped to handle.
Bile creeps up my throat as I take in the angry, puckered brand that will forever mark me as property.
The jagged S proclaims me not only as Tobias’, but House Stillwater’s.
Which means, should Kennedy ever find fault with his son’s ability to lead me down my path to redemption, he has the right to step in and take control of my Cleansing, in every sense.
As bleak as my future looks, I know it’s a walk in the park compared to some of the others.
Today’s Claiming only consisted of females–three in total, including myself.
Twice a year, if the numbers allow it, these ceremonies take place, giving men and women alike the opportunity to appoint themselves as our husbands and wives.
There’s no agreement between the two parties.
No consent. And why should there be? We’re barely people in the eyes of Veritas.
Males, however, are treated especially horrendously, particularly if their build is significantly larger than that of their designated spouse.
The female Elders take sick satisfaction in bringing someone who’s perceived as stronger than them to their literal knees.
Any chance they’re given to assert dominance is eagerly taken.
I’ve witnessed an Elder collar a boy, parading him around on a leash in hopes he’d do something brash so her punishment would be justified.
After all, public lashings are only warranted if there’s due cause.
Despite my best attempts at distraction, my mind wanders to what the other girls are being forced to endure at this very moment.
Has the consummation of their unions begun?
I know from whispers around the compound that most of them will have anything but an enjoyable experience.
Tobias and I might have chosen each other, and we certainly shared our bodies well before today’s so-called nuptials, but that doesn’t mean I chose this.
If given the option, I wouldn’t commit my life to anyone at the age of eighteen.
But this is just another cog in the twisted, acidic machine they’ve crafted to ensure our obedience and submission.
From the day we each arrived, their mission to break us began.
First we were wined and dined, led to believe this place is the holy grail of cults–because at its core, that’s exactly what it is.
They’ve taken bits and pieces from various religions and cultures, contorting them to fit the narrative they’ve devised, while somehow believing their perversion should be upheld with the highest regard.
Then we’re isolated, separated from our families and placed in communal housing.
Our servitude to Veritas starts then and there, and the stakes only grow higher the older we get.
Unless we submit completely, showing unwavering devotion to the cause, we’ll never be granted absolution.
They’ll forever see us as tainted and unredeemable, and if that happens, your fate is sealed.
By twenty-five, your chances of proving your innocence have all but run out.
You’ll be brought before the Elders, forced to listen as they vote on your continued existence as if they’re chatting about the weather, and then you’ll be read one of two possible verdicts: Death or Deferment.
Honestly, I’m not sure which is worse. On one hand, death would bring this sordid merry-go-round to a sudden halt.
But on the other, you might be relinquished to your House, giving the Elder male or female a chance to do what your Chosen couldn’t.
It’s all for naught, really, considering the whole of their ideology is an absolute farce.
Because in their eyes, those with heterochromia are Harbingers.
Tainted vessels that carry two souls–one pure, one demonic.
And if you can’t expel the evil inside you after enduring countless years of Cleansing rituals, then you weren’t worth saving to begin with.
A simple congenital disability that has absolutely no bearing on the sanctity of my soul has wrought me more pain and heartache than I ever could’ve fathomed.
It’s absolutely ludicrous, and yet they’ve successfully built this empire of hate over the past hundred-plus years.
Four generations of Stillwater descendants, as well as their flock of followers, have all fallen victim to blind gullibility and seen to their continued existence.
That might not sound like much, but to those of us caught in their clutches, it’s everything.
An inescapable web that only tightens its hold the harder we try to extricate ourselves.
That thread connecting my thoughts to a place of dissociation is severed, and my gaze drops to the glimmer of remaining sunlight that’s seeping through a tiny crack in the compound’s facade.
Tobias made me a promise long ago that I’d see the outside world again.
I’ve allowed his surety to guide me through my darkest nights, convinced he’ll figure out a way to get us free of the vise-grip Veritas has us in.
But as night draws closer without him joining me, a deep-seated fear takes root.
I wish this version of me wouldn’t have been so careless with her heart.
I’d like to shake some sense into her, to rip away those rose-colored glasses clouding my ability to see what was right in front of me all along.
Because treachery is a far harder pill to swallow when the person doing the damage is meant to be your fiercest protector.
*?An-duh-lin