Chapter 18
Scarlett
As soon as we arrived back at the house they assigned to me, Thomas shoved me through the door, causing me to stumble and fall.
My wrist bent back at an odd angle, but the pain was quickly drowned out by the instinct he had pounded into me, and I tried to stand up. I had to show respect; he was my betrothed. He didn’t tell me to get on my knees, I slipped, I had to correct myself.
“No,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “Get on your knees.”
My heart skipped a beat, but I felt nothing. The entire drive back here, all I could think about was not what Azrael had said, but that taste in my mouth, the pain on my head where I had had a pigtail, my twisting stomach, and the searing pain in my chest.
This was the rest of my punishment.
He wanted me to do to him what I had done to Mr. Bastrom. I was impure now, and he was going to take advantage of it. Turn it into something I could use to worship man like the Good Book wanted.
I got on my knees, my pencil skirt making the movements difficult, the end of it tightening around my ankles and cutting off the circulation to my feet. My skin had grown too hot, and not in a good way. Not in the way Azrael’s eyes warmed me.
Thomas walked up to me, unzipping his pants, and I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, feeling something wet trickle down my cheek as I forced my mind to drift away.
Drift far away.
To a place where nothing like this ever existed.
Suddenly, I wasn’t in my body anymore but outside of the church. I looked up and there was a bright blue sky, hummingbirds flying everywhere. They were so beautiful and bright, their feathers reflecting the sunshine.
The sun was warming my face, the front of my neck, my hands. It felt…it felt freeing.
When I opened my eyes and let myself look in front of me, Azrael was standing there. His face was shrouded in a hood, covered in shadows. All I could see of his was this wide, Cheshire smile. “Hello, little sinner,” he greeted. He held out his right hand, his cane in his left.
He wanted me to take his hand? That wasn’t allowed. I wasn’t allowed to touch anyone ever, it was against the rules. But, I suppose, if I was going to break the sacred laws, I’d rather it be with him.
Warmth exploded in the back of my throat, jerking me to the present, the saltiness, the sliminess.
I coughed and gagged as he jerked his cock out of me.
I turned to spit it out, wanting to rid myself of the taste as soon as possible, but Thomas grabbed my jaw and slammed a hand over my mouth and lips.
“Swallow,” he ordered threateningly. “Show me how impure you truly are.”
I hated the taste. I hated the way he had felt on my tongue. My stomach twisted and turned, and I could feel acid burning in the pit of my stomach, tears slipping down my cheeks.
Choking. I was going to choke to death if I didn’t swallow. Death no longer scared me though. I had come to terms with it a long time ago.
But he was my betrothed, and I had betrayed him. The least I could do was what he asked. So, I forced myself to swallow, gagging around the taste, bile creeping up the back of my throat.
“Open,” he ordered after several seconds.
I opened my mouth, showing him the evidence. Shame burning my skin. I hated this. I hated every second of it.
After a few seconds, he shoved me down to the floor. “I guess the Leaders have something to look forward to now.”
I lowered my head, keeping my eyes closed as my hands shook, my fingers digging into my knees. I remained there until I heard the front door finally shut behind him.
I immediately shoved myself to a stand and ran to the kitchen, spitting and coughing, scrubbing the taste off with my nails. They were going to make a new door. A new room in the Back Hall, I was sure. More cameras. More lights. Less boundaries because of me.
I had caused this.
I had betrayed the church.
I had ruined my marriage.
It wasn’t until I saw blood in my saliva that I finally stopped. I swirled warm water around in my mouth and spit it out, panting, feeling something heavy grow in my throat.
This was my purpose. It was all I had, all I was.
I belonged to the church. I was theirs to use now, however they saw fit.
I was nothing without them. Nothing.
~ ~ ~
January 15th, 2023
I stopped listening to the services. It was difficult to hear over the noises of the Leaders roaring through my ears.
Their grunts.
Their heaving.
My mind was filled with the sound of their balls slapping against my chin.
I stopped eating. I had too. All I could taste was bitter salt. Mold. Sour cheese. I wasn’t hungry anyway. How could I be when my stomach was always full?
I stopped wearing the braid too. I stopped doing anything. All I did now was stare at the tips of my own shoes. I was trapped in a mind filled with nothing.
I was floating ash over the Arctic. The hummingbirds couldn’t even reach me here. Nothing could.
Hours crowded into days. Days blended together.
Mr. Bastrom requested to see me almost every day since the 2nd.
I was his favorite. Not declared, just the one he visited the most. And Thomas no longer came into the room during one-on-one sessions.
They no longer cared to follow those rules apparently.
Mr. Alascer was seeing me more often now too. He called me a name I didn’t recognize, but he was the only one that ever called me anything, so I remembered the name well. Charlotte. Over and over again. Charlotte. Oh, Charlotte. You fuck so good, Charlotte.
I think I would have hated it if I had any ability to hate at all, but I didn’t.
I couldn’t feel anything.
“Okay,” Pastor Masters said when the final prayer was done, “we have a special event today! The baptism of some beautiful young men and women who have fully accepted their faith into their hearts.”
Baptism.
When I was a little girl, I thought it meant something pure. Something good. A solidifying of the act between a person and God.
But it wasn’t.
Baptism took place when the owners of the new Favorites from the last auction believed they were ready to become one with the church. It was the next step.
I had mine only three months after my fifth birthday.
It was okay though. They would soon learn the same truths I was learning. They would be loved and cared for, and then the people of the church would slowly start to convince them that love came in all shapes and sizes, and then they would become compliant.
They had to or they wouldn’t survive.
Some of them would be traded to other churches, others would be shipped to people’s houses.
I had gotten my own house, given to me by the church.
Thomas said it was to help me stay pure, and at 12 years old, I had been terrified to live alone, but I had also felt relieved at the same time.
Because at least when I was at the house, I wasn’t in front of those bright cameras.
Once they were married, they would be put to work as nannies or chefs or whatever their owner wanted them to be. Unless they were taken to Absolution.
Thomas said that I would become a secretary for the church because it would give the Leaders easier access to me.
I had no idea what a secretary was, but I hoped that the clothes they had for me were filled with brighter colors.
I had thought often about the colors I would wear if I could choose my own. I think I would choose red and white.
I would be just like the Queen of Hearts.
I would wear red, white, and gold. I would color hearts on my cheeks, and paint my lips bright red. I would wear black boots with big buckles, and a necklace with a big red heart on it. It would match the staff I would have, just like the one she had.
I would always wear my hair down unless I had a big beautiful bow to put in it.
But…those thoughts meant nothing, it was all just a dream in my head.
I sat and I waited for the click as the baptism went on. Waited for it all to be over so I could serve Thomas just like I was meant to.
When the click finally came, I stood, following Thomas up to the stage where his father’s feet appeared in my line of sight.
Words were exchanged and Thomas got angry, I wasn’t sure why, but then there was another click.
I followed him to the Back Hall and watched the hummingbird while he dressed me. He was still angry even though I was following all of the rules. I lifted what he told me to lift, I didn’t wince when he squeezed too hard. I didn’t look up, ever. I never looked up.
But he was still angry. Every move he made, every sound, every time he touched me, it was all hard and irritated.
I had done something wrong. Had I not followed one Mississippi behind him?
Had I stood in the wrong spot? Had my eyes lifted?
I don’t think so. I knew how to follow the rules.
I followed every single one of them the best I could.
Still, he was angry.
Why was he so angry?
When he was done dressing me, he grabbed my wrist and jerked me out of the changing room, down the hall, and led me into a one-on-one room. A new one. One that smelled normal, and not of salt and semen.
They had built another one. Why?
“If he touches you, I’ll kill you, do you understand me?”
He didn’t expect an answer, so I didn’t give him one. I would never be able to tell my guest ‘no’, so my response, whatever it was, would be wrong, and be a cause for punishment.
I hoped he did touch me. I hoped he took away all of my purity so that I could finally die.
Who’s hands would be the last ones I ever felt? Would it be Mr. Bastrom? Mr. Alascer? Mr. Kels? Mr. Young? Who was coming into the room today? I hope he killed me.
Thomas bent me over the table, twisting my legs together, and pulled my arms out to either corner, bending my fingers over the edge.
I winced, the pain in my chest screaming through me as the position pulled at the scabs across my breasts.
Maybe this position meant that I wouldn’t have to suck today. Maybe I would just be watched.