Chapter Three
Brit
“And why did I create The Reason?” My father hissed in my face.
Rocking back on my heels, I shuddered. “To help humans to realize their full potential and to bring peace here, on earth, before it’s too late.”
Swinging away from me, Chad faced the gathered people and held his arms out to the side, his voice echoing around the mansion foyer.
“Exactly. When there are enough of us, who are cleansed and pure, the Earth will shudder and change… releasing the shit and darkness that crawls over it. Once that is done, we’ll be free to rule our paradise. ”
I recoiled as the chains that held my arms above my head creaked loudly, drawing his attention.
I was standing by the wall of shame, chained by cuffs to the ceiling above.
The chains were long and thick, descending from above the balcony that overlooked the round hall below.
The stairs wound around the curve of the room on either side, starting at the bottom.
At the back of the room, there was a set of double doors that led to the ritual room.
I hated that place and avoided it as often as possible.
“See,” he said, meandering closer to me, “that is the reason we are here, in my home, in my compound and on earth. You…” He jerked a finger towards my face. “…have forgotten your place in the order of The Reason.”
Staring him in the eye, I nodded and pouted, just as he liked. The more remorseful I was, the less likely it would be that he’d keep me chained all night, like he had in the past.
“I’m sorry, Chad.” I wasn’t allowed to call him dad or father in front of anyone. “Please remind me.”
Nodding, he smiled widely. “Of course, lost one.” Turning back to the small crowd, he signaled that they line up. “Today, sweet Brittney has defied me by going behind my back. I won’t disclose exactly what she did…”
No, because it would show weakness in him. If he dared to tell people that he hadn’t known what I’d been up to, they’d question his authority, which was law in this place.
“…but she did me wrong,” he finished.
The people – that was the name given to the ones who were called to be jury.
Not that there was ever a trial, my father chose whether someone was guilty and their punishment.
Jury was an ironic name for those who would dish out the punishment if he didn’t want to do it himself – formed into a line, each one coming up to me and looking into my eyes.
“You are a sinner,” the first one said before moving on and leaving the house through the front glass doors.
“Every inch of you is riddled with nastiness.” Next one.
“You’ll never live up to your father.” Ouch, that one had never been used before.
Would my father allow them to compare us? Oh yeah, he was grinning gleefully at that one. He must have added it to the list of degradations that they could choose.
“You’ve done wrong. You must repent.” She actually tried not to laugh.
I pursed my lips and gazed at my feet for a second, just to stop myself from copying her. I’d known the girl since we were kids, although we’d never been close. Sometimes, it all got a bit much, and the laughter took over. When that happened, pain quickly followed.
“You must release the rebel in you,” an older man said, “or I’ll do it for you.”
Ah yeah, most of the older men threatened the women with that one. It gave them a little boost and probably an image for the masturbation bank later.
Looking him unblinkingly in the eye, I smiled inwardly when I found I’d won the staring match.
He backed away, quickly disappearing. Most of the men in The Reason were arrogant a-holes, but when it came to me, they were scared.
As much as my father taught them that they ruled over us, they knew that if they slighted the daughter of their leader, he would make them pay.
I belonged to him, which was another reason I hadn’t been married off yet, unlike the other women of my age.
“You need to let the love in and the dirt out,” the final person said in a monotone before walking away.
I understood why my father had started the practice. It was a way to help someone to see where they’d gone wrong and why they had gone against Chad’s rule. If they were able to get to the root cause, they could heal and bring more love into our world.
My father came next, his previously light expression turning dark with the squinting of his eyes. He checked that everyone had gone and then squeezed my chin, hard. My arms ached and every part of my body hurt, bruised and battered from the crash.
“Please,” I begged, using the tactics I'd learned over the years. “I'm sorry.”
“Did I ask you to find the stupid bug boys?” he spat, bringing his face so close, our noses almost brushed.
“No.” I was frozen, my gaze glued to his.
If I showed him defiance, he would get off on it. If I was weak, he would get bored. That was how he worked, how he got his power. I’d tried both several times over the years and learned the hard way.
“Your punishment will be handed out accordingly.” Pushing away from me, he spat at my feet as I swung back on the chains.
“Wait,” I called as he turned to leave, “that wasn't my punishment?”
A smirk crossed his face as he adjusted his crotch before sauntering off into his office, which was through a door at the bottom of the left stairs.
I glanced up at the sound of a sigh from above.
My mother stood looking over the balcony, shaking her head.
I glared and avoided her gaze, staring at the symbol painted in a circle on the wooden floor.
It was a heart with an infinity ring going through it.
I'd woken up to that symbol my whole life, getting it tattooed in my neck as soon as I'd been allowed.
“You have a bad habit of pissing him off,” my mother commented as she appeared beside me.
Closing my eyes, I swallowed down the pain of my screaming muscles. My arms ached from being held high above my head.
“I was bringing him a gift.” My voice was weak and I winced when she grabbed my arm, pulled it down and released me.
“Ouchh...” Every muscle that made up my frame hurt like a bitch.
When my mother unclipped the second cuff, the chains clanged back against the magnets on the wooden wall behind me. I rubbed my sore wrists and frowned at her.
“Won't you get in trouble, Helen?” I looked at my father's closed office door, tempted to throw my middle finger up.
Except, my mother could turn into a bitch at a moment’s notice.
“Don't call me Helen,” she chastised, reaching up to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I'm your mother.”
Ironically, Helen, aka my mother, had always wanted people to know that I was her daughter so it was clear that she was the leader’s wife.
Even if it was in name only. As a teen, I'd started calling her by her name, just to wind her up.
And to try and distance myself from Chad.
I had wanted to gain respect in my own right. I still did.
“I'll handle him,” she said when I didn't reply, “you need to get cleaned up. Are you very hurt?”
Shaking my head, I looked at her, unable to resist admiring her lithe figure, her pristine blonde bun at the back of her head and the cream finely cut trouser suit.
“Go and shower,” she said, pushing me towards the stairs, “He won't be finished with you.”
Moving quickly, I ascended the stairs on the right, darting to the top.
There was a rectangular gallery with a large glass window at the top of the stairs.
A corridor ran off to the left and the right, with numerous doors on either side.
I headed down the right wing, as far away from my father's office as possible.
When I entered my room, I shut the door and locked it, only releasing my breath when I was safe.
Catching my reflection in the mirror on the wall, I gasped.
My brown hair was matted with blood by my ear.
Bruises were already blooming on my cheek and chest, where my dirty shirt was ripped, revealing my bra.
The bandages on my arms were thick and a scratch stretched across my cheek where my father had caught me with his ring. God, I looked a mess.
I headed straight past my king-size bed, ignoring the clean pile of clothes that had been placed there by the cleaners.
The bathroom door was ajar and I pushed through, switching on the bath taps and plonking down on the marble surround.
A long low breath left my mouth as the bubbling sound of water soothed me.
I unwrapped the bandages, which only covered a few cuts, and rubbed my sore arms. I stared out of the window, which was a one-sided viewing glass, stretching from floor to ceiling.
Father had wanted to create the illusion of bringing the outside in.
The sloping stretch of lawn that ran away from the house ended with a large lake.
I’d often stood naked, watching the birds, the rabbits and the men, who liked to walk and talk about the businesses they ran.
They couldn’t see me inside the bathroom, watching their body language and sometimes listening if they were close enough.
I had tried to learn the ways of the elders in order to get ahead.
Apparently, I hadn’t quite managed to pull it off.
Standing up from the edge of the bath, I stripped and stood in front of the mirror.
My light grey eyes were dull and my eyelids puffy.
I’d been encouraged to have Botox since I turned eighteen, but I’d managed to avoid it, too interested in making my father proud than keeping my skin extra youthful.
My father would stay interested in the other women if I let wrinkles mar my face.
Not that I was old enough to get lines yet.
The superficial part of The Reason had started to grind on me, and I wanted to make change for the women.