5. Honey
Honey
I know he’s angry because of the way his footfalls strike the floor.
Steady thumps bash against the wooden planks as he storms through the long dining hall toward the kitchen.
It’s my day to wash the dishes, and I’ve been working on them for only thirty minutes.
We’re allowed an hour, and I’m already mostly done.
So, there’s no reason he can be mad about how long it’s taking me.
“Honey,” Apostle Clement sighs, and my shoulders freeze. It’s always worse when he pretends he’s not mad. “Why is it that you do not seem fit to show up with the other omegas when I called for you?”
“I —” It’s not my place to argue, and I stop myself from doing so.
“You’re too unfocused, Honey.” Apostle Clement shakes his head.
His mid-brown hair jostles lightly with the movements.
“I’ve been trying to give you time to heal since your mother died.
But it’s been six months since she passed.
It’s time for you to go back to sequestering for some quiet to reflect. ”
“No.” I fight back a whine.
I fight back all the bad thoughts of the dark and how alone I’ll be.
The days of not seeing another person, how hungry you get while being locked up, the muffled sounds of voices through a door, and the darkness all come flooding back, catching my breath in my throat, threatening to kill me right here.
I force out words the best I can. “I’ll be good. I made the wrong choice.”
“It’s not for omegas to make choices. You’re to follow orders.” Apostle Clement extends his hand toward me as if I am to take it. His cold brown eyes cut into me, willing my acceptance.
I shake my head and pull my hands to my chest, water droplets flying off them.
He uses his shadow to wrap around my arms, pulling them forward, capturing my wrist in his hand.
Within our community, it’s forbidden to use shadows like this, but he does it anyway.
He’s started calling himself the prophet, and that makes him more special than everyone else.
As an apostle, he gets to make more rules, but it still doesn’t give him freedom.
Sometimes, when I remember the outside world, I think he’s just trying to be a regular alpha — free of strict confines governing his shadow and the regimented laws of our community — and not a disciple.
Maybe I’m not the one who should be trying to escape.
Maybe it should be Apostle Clement who walks away from here and never comes back.
I pray in my head as he drags me out of the kitchen, through the door, and across the lawn. Heavenly Virgin Mother, make me a vessel and purify me. For now is my time of need.
Other omegas and disciples watch on as I’m presented to the group.
They’re looking at me the way they always do.
The disciples are pitying me, and the omegas are thankful they aren’t me.
But no one is surprised. No one is shocked because this happens to me more than anyone else.
After finding a way that would make us both comply, the apostles punished me to punish my mother.
Apostle Clement comes to a stop, and the jerking on my wrist ends as he makes a loud statement.
“Honey, it seems, needs some time alone to find her way with God. We have been more lenient with her ill behavior since the passing of her mother, but it is time to hold her accountable again as a good omega for the community.”
My face heats with embarrassment, but I can’t draw my eyes away from the group.
It’s a sea of tied-on dresses that are a little baggy in all the curvy places, men’s shirts that are tied tight at forearms and neck, and pants that fall in straight lines from the hip to the floor.
Everyone looks the same. None of them look like friends. None of them are going to save me.
I don’t need to be locked up alone, in the dark, in a room with boarded-over windows and no furniture.
I need anything that isn’t that.
I’ve been locked here for at least three days. I know because of the type of hunger I have. It’s the kind that makes you start thinking even foods you hate sound good right about now.
My dress ties are loose at my neck, waist, and wrists. The disheveled look would be another reason to send me to sequestering, but I’m already here. What’s the harm?
They brought me food and water once. Which is about right for it to be three days. They try not to interrupt an omega as she’s being sequestered. The apostles say it’s about becoming closer to God.
It feels like it’s because they’ve forgotten about me.
I’d do anything to escape the void they’ve locked me in.
Today? Tonight? It’s hard to tell. The only light in the room comes from bulbs that barely glow at all.
They startled me by opening the door. Two of the disciples — John for sure, and someone else — carry, well, mostly kind of throw, her in.
I don’t know why they put her in the room with me.
Sequestering is supposed to be a solitary time where you’re alone with your thoughts.
Maybe because they really have forgotten I’m here.
One thing I do know is that the omega before me is dying.
She talks to someone like another person is here in the room with us. But it’s only the two of us.
Momma used to say that when the time comes, the veil thins for you to cross over.
That’s how I know she’s dying.
“Do you want to get out of here or not?” The omega turns her head to face me. Her pitch-black hair, unnaturally colored, falls across the ground.
“Out.” I nod.
I barely remember when we didn’t live with the House of Apostles.
Momma said it was best if I stopped trying to remember it.
That I should let all the bad things that happened to me disappear from my mind and embrace the word of God and our new life in the community.
I was twelve when my momma and I were brought to live here.
Every day since has been grueling, and I try and fail to cling to memories of the outside world.
Even if Momma was right and bad things happened before we came here, it can’t be worse than it is now, can it?
But this omega comes from the outside world. She’s not dressed like she’s from here, and she cusses like she’s never been shunned for it.
“Alright, honey.” She draws in a ragged breath like she’ll sit up, but she doesn’t move. “Let’s talk about what to do when you get out of here.”
“Okay.” I scoot closer to her, avoiding her pile of bile from when they first threw her in here.
I don’t know that she really can do what she says. No one has ever left the community before, but it’s worth hearing a plan to escape.
Escape.
That’s not something I ever considered doing before. I spent too long dreaming of it being better, avoiding trouble, that I never thought too hard about leaving. Now, the idea seems like the best one ever.