The Preacher’s Wives

The morning was muggy, the dusty air carrying the scent of hydrangeas and sizzling asphalt. I pressed my face against the filthy windowsill next to my bed, taking in a few breaths of the morning breeze before falling back into the stagnant air of the bedroom. My sister was still asleep, curled up on the pillow next to mine. Across the room, the bed my mother shared with my baby brother was empty. 

I climbed over my sister carefully, trying not to let the creaking of the floorboards wake her. Her nightgown was stained with sweat– both of ours were. The Texas heat was unforgiving in July, but I had long given up begging our mother for a fan. 

I pushed back the stained curtain that had replaced our bedroom door a few years ago. The kitchen was empty, but the stove was warm, and the room was stiflingly humid. I practically ran to open the windows, and the outside breeze provided a little respite from the stagnant air of the kitchen. 

All of our cupboards were padlocked, and we didn’t have a fridge. Normally, my mother would make something for breakfast and leave enough for everyone, but once a week, she did this– only heating the stove to make her coffee, then rushing off to meet the Reverend.

I climbed up on the counter, feeling around in the cupboards until I found the key to the padlocks. My mother always kept it out of the younger ones’s reach, but she had mostly given up hiding it from me. I pulled a box of oatmeal from the cupboard, along with a bit of syrup, as a treat for the kids. I knew mother would notice that the food was missing, but she wouldn’t say anything. She knew I would always take care of my siblings. 

I was stirring the oatmeal when Addie’s face popped out from behind the curtain. I pretended not to notice her as she scanned the room, checking that we were alone before bursting in with a flourish.

“Good Morning, Darling!” she sang, flouncing the hem of her nightgown as she tapped towards me. mother once said Addie was eight going on eighteen– I suppose now she was ten going on twenty. As a baby, she had loved to babble the hymns we sang in the church every day, and when she was old enough, I’m certain she was dancing before she was walking. She danced in the way that babies do, bobbing up and down while babbling her hymns. When she was two, the Preacher saw her doing it in church and held our mother back after service to scold her for allowing her child to mock the sanctity of the Lord by dancing. I’m sure he told my mother to hit my sister for it– I knew from speaking with the other children that most mothers in the commune had a whipping belt– but our mother had always been gentle. Or maybe she was just too weak. Either way, she had never hit us, and my mother held Addie tightly on her lap at every church service until she was old enough to know not to dance. Luckily, it hadn’t soured the Reverend to my sister for long– she had always been his favorite.

“Good morning, Didi. Here,” I handed her a bowl, and she held it out as I spooned a few ladles of oatmeal into the middle. I titled my head towards the counter. “There’s syrup over there.” 

“How decadent!”

“Only a little.”

Addie sighed loudly, but she only placed a touch of syrup at the peak of her oatmeal mound. I passed her a second bowl with a single ladle of oatmeal. 

“Here, put a tiny bit on for Nick.”

Addie flourished the spoon over the bowl, letting a thin spiral of syrup fall onto our brother’s breakfast. I pretended not to notice the spoon take another pass over Addie’s bowl as I took Nick to the table. 

By the time mother returned, we had all eaten, and Addie was getting Nick dressed while I finished putting away the dishes. I smiled at my mother as she came through the door. 

“Good morning, mama.” 

She crossed the kitchen towards me, pulling me into a tight hug. I squeezed back, breathing in the light smell of perfume on her neck. She released me, but she let her hands linger on my shoulders for a motherent. She looked me over with red, puffy eyes, then sighed. 

Addie’s head poked around the curtain, and my mother smiled. She rubbed her hands up and down my arms and shivered loudly. 

“Pretty chilly, today, no?” The three of us giggled. Addie and I had learned to love the mornings our mother spent with the Preacher. Seeing our mother smile was rare, and hearing her tell jokes and laugh seldom happened apart from on these mornings. They were especially important to Addie– she hadn’t known mother as anything other than a Preacher’s Wife. At least I had memories of her, before.

Addie skipped in our direction and wrapped her arms around our mother. Normally, my sister would be scolded for that– we weren’t allowed any form of dance, or even allowed to run– but our mother just held onto her tightly. 

I frowned. She had obviously been crying, which I had never seen her do during the day. Normally, she reserved her tears for the silence of the night, softly sobbing in the kitchen while my siblings sleep, and I pretend to. I knew better than to ask my mother what was wrong in front of my sister, so for now, I joined in on their hug, wrapping my arms around both of them. 

The sound of Nick toddling across the wooden floor brought us out of our embrace. Addie quickly scooped him into her arms and brought him over to our mother.

“Aww, little Nicky was feeling left out!” she cooed, bouncing him up and down on her hip. Addie was perfecting the art of being a mother without trying, and I could tell my mother loved it. It would make her even more valuable to the Preacher. Whatever that actually meant.

I grabbed the broom from behind the empty doorframe of our pantry. As I made my way around the perimeter of our kitchen, I watched my sister meticulously clean off Nick’s face with a towel while he squirmed in her grasp. I wondered if that’s how I had looked, sitting with Addie on my lap while I sewed or carrying her with me on my trips to the depot. My mother used to assure me every night that I was a good older sister and that the Reverend would see how valuable I was. Supposedly, we as women should always be working towards becoming more valuable, but nobody ever really explained what that meant. The ways to become valuable were drilled into the girls of the commune daily, directly after morning congregation. The elder women, their voices both hushed and urgent, reinforced the importance of subjugating ourselves to the Preacher and God and of performing our natural roles as nurturers, mothers, and servants to men. Then, one day, when we had achieved our peak value, the Preacher would summon us to be married. 

I knew I would marry at some point, but I had tried not to think about it. Life was mostly day by day in the commune, and our routine had been well-established over the years. At first, it had just been my mother and I, plus two other women living in the two spare rooms of the Reverend’s suburban home. My sister had been born there, in the bathtub, almost a year after the Reverend had taken us in. I was ecstatic to have a baby sister, and the Reverend was all too happy to let me take over in caring for her. For a few years, I cared for her and the other babies born soon after, and my role as babysitter overtook the time I had previously spent reading during the day. One night, the Reverend had caught me reading late at night, curled up against a window with the dusty moonbeams as my only source of light. To the Preacher, though, it was an unauthorized interaction with the outside world. I had definitely been punished, but I had never been able to remember how– really, most of my childhood was a blur, dotted with snapshots of memories– and soon after, we moved out to the commune. 

I had turned 16 three weeks ago. None of the other children in the commune were older than 12. There was only one other kid whose father wasn’t the Preacher– Mason, an eleven-year-old whose mother had only recently joined. He seemed to get along with the other boys, but it was clear they sensed the same difference in him that the girls of the commune had always sensed in me. I may have helped to raise most of them, but the Reverend’s blood didn’t run through my veins, so I was different. 

My mother’s approaching footsteps snapped me out of my thoughts. I had returned the broom to the pantry, and I was leaning over the counter fighting against our dull potato peeler when she spoke. 

“The Preacher wants to speak with you tomorrow.”

The peeler slipped, and I narrowly avoided slicing the skin of my thumb. I placed the peeler on a dishcloth, then turned to face my mother. Her face was overly cheerful, masking the gravity in her eyes. 

“Why?”

My mother shifted uncomfortably, her fingers twitching at her sides. It was a habit she’d had for as long as I could remember– whenever she told a lie or kept a secret, her fingers gave her away. 

"You'll know when he speaks with you," she said softly, a bit of her smile faltering. "It's a good thing. You're becoming Valuable. Like we've always talked about."

I felt my stomach tighten. Becoming Valuable had been a distant dream, a ghost that had haunted me and the other girls here for as long as I could remember. It was whispered by the elder women, written into our teachings, and yet, no one ever defined it beyond vague promises of service and submission.

"Why now?" I asked, my voice low to keep Addie from overhearing. "I'm not ready. I mean, I haven’t completed my training, and Addie, she still needs me. I can’t-" I stopped myself, conscious of making a scene in front of my siblings. There was no reason for them to know that anything was changing. 

My mother’s face softened, the hard lines of her mouth fading into something almost sad. "No one ever feels ready, love. But the Preacher... he knows when the time is right. For everyone."

I nodded, though my thoughts were racing. The Preacher always knew. That’s what we were taught, but the dread creeping up my spine made me shiver. I hadn’t seen him in private for years, not since we first moved to the commune. Now, the idea of being alone with him unsettled me. I was used to seeing him around the commune, or pacing in front of the congregation in our church. We heard his stories and prayed to him over our meals, but only the women spent time in his house. I hardly felt like a woman. 

“When…” I trailed off, unsure what I should ask. When should I go? What do I bring? What should I say? A thousand questions rushed through my mind, but my mouth wouldn’t form around any of them. My mother stepped towards me and pulled me into her embrace.

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you prepare,” she stroked my hair, and I felt her embrace tighten. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

I didn’t sleep that night. My mother and I put my siblings to bed, placating Addie’s drowsy demands to stay up alongside us with the assertion that she was only in the bedroom to look after Nick. Then began a late night routine I had seen my mother preform, but had never myself participated in. I had always dreaded the day I would need to scrub and lotion every inch of my body– and now, I sat shivering at the kitchen table, wrapped in a towel and rubbing oil onto my face while my mother brushed and braided my hair into two neat plaits. 

Finally, my mother placed her hands on my cheeks and kissed my forehead before sending me off to sleep. I tried my best not to disturb my sister, but nothing could quiet my racing thoughts. Next to me, Addie’s small frame was curled up and peaceful. In her sleep, she still had that carefree glow, the kind she had when she was a little girl who loved dancing, before the Preacher took that away from her..

The next morning, after chores and breakfast, my mother sent me to the Preacher's house. It stood at the center of the commune, larger than any of the others, and the closer I got, the colder my skin felt. I knocked softly on the door and waited.

The door creaked open. A figure, shrouded by the darkness of the doorway, ushered me inside. The inside of the house was thick with the scent of burning incense– a cloud of something heavy and unfamiliar swimming in the stagnant air. The rooms were dimly lit, curtains drawn to block out the sun, and the whole house seemed to be holding its breath.

The woman who had opened the door was unrecognizable, cloaked by a dark veil that cascaded over her face. I scanned her face– or at least, where I thought it was– for eye holes or any openings, but she was seemingly blind as she ushered me down the hallway. We were both silent, and I felt the dark hallways closing in on me as we made our way further into the house. The smell of smoke grew strong enough that I coughed, and I saw the veiled woman flinch, before turning back to me.

“I’m okay, sorry,” I whispered, patting my chest in a vague reassurance that I wasn’t choking. The woman flinched again when I spoke, but after glancing towards a door down the hallway, she seemed to decide I had spoken out of its earshot, and her frame relaxed. She nodded slowly, then turned towards the same door and motioned for me to follow. I swallowed, nerves knotting in my chest, before following. 

The door creaked open with a decisive push from the veiled woman. Then, she placed her hand on my back. For a motherent, I felt comforted, but she quickly exerted all of her force onto me, and I yelped as I fell forward, splinters of the rotten floor piercing my hands and knees. I looked back towards her and was met with a slamming door.

“Come in, Honey.” 

The Preacher’s voice was smooth, almost welcoming, and it held the same authority that I was used to hearing from daily services. I froze, still disoriented from the fall.

“Come in, Honey. Sit.”

I let my eyes venture from the floorboards in front of me. We were in a small room, with barely enough room for the cot, desk, and leather chair that had been squeezed into each corner. In the chair, the Preacher was watching me, and I felt like an ant about to be squashed. Slowly, I pulled myself up from the floor, wincing as I flexed my splintered body. Keeping my eyes glued to the Preacher’s, I crossed the room delicately and perched myself on the very edge of the filthy white cot.

“Not there.”

I blinked. The Preacher patted his thighs.

“Come here, Honey. Come sit with me.” 

Slowly, I obeyed, lowering myself onto his lap. For a long motherent, he said nothing, and I could feel him studying the back of my head . Finally, he leaned forward.

“Do you know why I’ve called you here?” His breath was warm on my ear as he spoke, and I shivered involuntarily. I shook my head, my throat too tight to speak.

I could feel him laughing softly. “It’s time for you to fulfill your purpose here. You’re of age now, and there are decisions to be made about your future. I need you to understand what is to become of you– what God has ordained me do with you. Honey, you must understand fully your purpose on this Earth.”

The Preacher’s arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and he allowed his hands to wander my body. I was rigid, biting into the sides of my cheeks until the taste of iron started to fill my mouth. The Preacher’s voice was still hot in my ear as I stilled myself against his embrace.

“The oldest child of my first wife. The sister, the protector, the nurturer of my first child. The first Holy One I brought into this Earth. A true offspring of a God and his selected servants, to begin the race anew. To bring peace- yes! Peace!” His voice grew frantic with divine inspiration, and his hands pinched and squeezed while I bit down harder on my cheeks. “They will know me as their God, and they will know peace! Ha!”

Then, the Preacher went still, his hands rigid claws over my heart. 

“And yet, there is such sin within you.”

I gasped as a hand wrapped around my throat, and my hands instinctively flew up, attempting to pry his away. 

“You have known too much of the outside world. You have become Valuable, yes, a glimmering jewel in my collection, but you were tainted. You were tainted at a young age. And God had commanded me to free you from your sin. To sever your ties to the outside world.” 

The Preacher loosened his grip on my neck, and I gasped as he continued speaking. “You will serve a higher role in our community. You will be one of my most Valuable servants. You will help me repopulate after the Lord finally returns. You will usher in my new generation of faithful servants, and you will oversee the passage of my less valuable servants to the arms of the Lord.” 

His hands had resumed their movements, and he rubbed the hem of my dress between his fingers. I tried my best to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach as I cleared my throat softly. The noise seemed to have surprised the Preacher, but he remained silent, so I spoke timidly.

“What… what do you mean, the passage–”

“Ah,” the Preacher cupped his hand underneath my chin, and I struggled to swallow. “A woman’s Value is… finite. Unlike you girls, who nurture, who serve me, some of the older women… they are no longer Valuable to me. As their youth diminishes .”

My heart pounded in my chest. I wanted to ask what he meant, but fear gripped my throat.

“They will be returned to the earth,” he said, his voice cold. “Sacrificed, so that the rest of us may thrive. Replaced, so that new life may take their place.”

A chill shot through me. Sacrificed. The voice rang in my ears, echoing in the quiet room. His words hung in the air between us, mingling with the smoke and dust that floated in front of my face. Then, the Preacher grabbed my wrist, and I cried out in surprise as he pulled my arm towards the heavens, wrenching both of us out of the chair. 

“He speaks to me, from above. From the heavens!” The Preacher shook my arm in his grasp, stretching me further towards the ceiling of his dilapidated home. Tears poured from my eyes as I yelped, struggling on the tips of my toes as he continued to yank my arm.

“The Lord tells me his will upon this Earth, and I execute it!” The Preacher swung his hands to the side, sending me flying into the wall across from us. As I watched him approach me through burry eyes, I felt my consciousness floating away from my body– I fell into a haze, watching the Preacher handle my body from afar, seeing him touch me without feeling his hands on my body. After he was done, the Preacher stood above the cot, staring down at my shaking form. He smiled.

“You’re a lot like your mother, Honey. She was a fighter at first, too. But now,” he leaned down to caress my face, “she’s faithful. Faithful, yes,” his smile widened, “but getting old.”   

The Preacher placed a soft kiss on my forehead. I watched as he backed out of the room, looking me over again before opening the door. Then, I was alone. Numbly, I gathered my clothes and wiped the tears from my face. I poked my head out from behind the door and, seeing nobody, slipped down the hallway. As I was about to exit, I saw the veiled woman standing slightly down the hall. She was looking in my direction–or, she seemed to be– but I didn’t spare her a glance as I ran out the front door and down the steps of the rickety house. 

The sky was darkening as I crept back into my home, my hands still trembling. I closed the door quietly, listening to the soft sounds of Addie and Nick playing in the corner. Addie’s laughter filled the room, but it felt so out of place, so wrong.  I wondered what would happen to her when her time came. When would the Preacher call for her? The thought of Addie standing in front of him, hearing the same ominous words I’d heard, having to do what I had done– I shook my head, trying to silence my thoughts, but I couldn’t get the image of Addie, broken and bruised, lying on the Preacher’s bed, out of my head. I stared at her until she noticed, her bright eyes meeting mine as she hopped up to greet me.

“Darling, you’re back!” She sang, but her smile faltered when she saw my face. “What’s wrong? Honey?”

“Nothing. Where’s Mama?”

“She went to the well not long ago. What-”

“Sush.”

I took a deep breath and glanced toward Nick, who was too engrossed in stacking wooden blocks to notice the tension in the air. I gestured for Addie to follow me, and we slipped through the curtain into our bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart pounding as I searched for my words. Addie looked at me expectantly. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of our quilt, and I shuddered.

“Addie,” I whispered, gripping her hands tightly. “We have to leave.”

Her face scrunched in confusion. “Leave? What are you talking about?”

“We can’t stay here anymore,” I said, my voice shaking. “It’s not safe. The Preacher... he did something terrible to me. Mama knows, and she isn’t gonna help. And-” I swallowed back my words. I couldn’t tell her everything. She was all I had, and I knew she would believe me, but she was so young. I squeezed her hands.

“We need to trust eachother, now. I need you to trust me and do what I say. Okay, Didi?”

Addie’s wide eyes filled with fear, her hands slipping from mine. “No. Honey, we can’t leave! Where- I mean, what else is there? Nowhere is safe outside the commune! What about Mama? And Nick—”

I shook my head, cutting her off. “Addie, stop. I’ve lived in the outside world. There’s something else out there, something good. A life that was good. I remember it. It was beautiful, and fun, and not…” I took a breath, lowering my voice. “I promise, if you trust me, I’m gonna take us back there. I’m gonna take us somewhere safe, okay? I don’t know where we’ll go, but we’ll figure it out. I’ll take care of you, I swear. But if we stay here, Addie, something horrible will happen to us.”

She took a step back, her lower lip trembling. “But... but the Preacher... he’ll find us. He always says he’ll find us if we leave. And Mama—what if she doesn’t want to come?”

“I don’t think Mama can leave, Addie,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “She’s… she trusts the Preacher more than she trusts us. He’s tricked her. But not me. Not you. We can get away from here. We have to.”

Addie was shaking her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t want to leave. I’m scared, Honey.”

I pulled her into my arms, holding her tightly. “I know. I’m scared too. But we don’t have a choice. I need you to trust me, Addie. Please.”

She buried her face in my shoulder, sobbing quietly. For a long motherent, she didn’t say anything, and I could feel the weight of her fear pressing against me. Finally, she sniffled and pulled away just enough to look at me.

“You promise you’ll take care of me? Of Nick?”

“I promise,” I said, cupping her face with my hands. “I’ll protect you. No matter what.”

Addie hesitated, staring at the floor as her tears continued to fall. Then, slowly, she nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

The knot in my stomach tightened. “Okay. Just go play with Nick, and don’t let mama in the bedroom. I’ll take care of everything.”

The moon was high in the sky, casting long shadows over the room as I rummaged through the small rucksack beneath my bed. My hands moved quickly but quietly, gathering the last bits of our supplies as my mother and brother slept across the room. A few pieces of bread wrapped in cloth, a jar of preserves I’d hidden at the back of the cupboard, and the small knife I used to skin potatoes– we didn’t have many possessions, and I had no clue what we would need in the outside world. Still, I packed as much as I could fit.

At dinner, I had slipped brandy into my mother’s drink. I had seen her sneak it into her drinks before, and she had always passed out soon after– luckily, tonight had been no different. I had poured a few drops into Nick’s bottle too, and the both of them snored softly while Addie sat cross-legged on the floor, watching me with wide, uncertain eyes. Her hair fell in messy waves around her face, and she was chewing on the ends of her hair.

“Is Mama coming?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I paused, my bag heavy in my hand. I didn’t want to answer. Addie still believed Mama could be saved, that she might leave with us if we just asked her. But I knew better. Our Mother had been taken by the Preacher years ago, and whatever part of her still belonged to us was buried too deep for me to reach.

“No,” I said softly. “It’s just us. We have to be strong, Addie. For Nick too.”

Her lips trembled, but she nodded. “We’re taking Nick, right?”

“Of course,” I whispered, looking away. I knew the brandy would keep him asleep, but if he woke up, his cries could be our ruin. He was my brother, but he was also a liability. Still, it was probably easier to carry Nick than to argue with Addie.

I stood up and reached for my old knapsack. It was tattered, but it would have to do. I pulled the quilt off the bed and draping it over Addie’s shoulders.

“Put on your shoes,” I said quietly. “We need to leave before anyone notices.”

Addie nodded and hurried to the corner where we kept our shoes. Mine were worn, the soles nearly falling off, but I slipped them on anyway. I couldn’t help but glance around the room as I tied the laces, my heart heavy with memories. The thin mattresses on the floor, the cracked mirror that hung by the curtain, the small pile of toys Addie had made for Nick when he was a baby—it was all so familiar, and yet, it felt like I was looking at a stranger’s life. Despite all the memories in these walls, I couldn’t forget the horror I had experienced. This wasn’t home anymore. Maybe it hadn’t been for a long time.

When Addie was ready, I carefully lifted Nick from my mother’s bed and placed him into Addie’s arms. I placed my hands on her shoulders and guided us to the backdoor. The house was eerily quiet, the creaking floorboards the only sound as we crept through the kitchen. My heart pounded in my chest, each step feeling like a betrayal, but I couldn’t stop. Not now. Not after what the Preacher had done.

We reached the back door, and I paused, holding my breath as I listened for any sign of movement. Nothing. I pushed the door open slowly, the hinges groaning in protest, but the night swallowed the sound.

Outside, the warm air brushed against my skin, and the moonlight illuminated our tearstained faces. The river stretched out before us, the tall grasses swaying gently in the breeze. The path alongside the river that led to the forest was faint, barely visible in the moonlight, but I knew it was there. We had seen it every day for years, and we had been warned thousands of times of the danger in following the path. The only one who was allowed to leave was the Preacher. Only he could face the sin of the outside world and return to us.

“We’re going to be okay,” I whispered, squeezing Addie’s hand. “Just stay close to me.”

Addie nodded, her eyes wide with fear but filled with trust. She was relying on me, just like she always had, and I couldn’t afford to let her down. 

A Noise from behind made us both jumped. I turned, and our mother was standing in the back doorway, holding onto her nightgown as she stared at us. I watched her eyes flick from, me, to my sister, to Nick, nestled tightly in Addie’s arms. Suddenly, mother cried out, stifling her sobs with her hand. 

“Why,” was the only thing she managed to choke out. I shook my head.

“You know why, mama. You know we can’t stay. Not after today.”

“Please Honey. Please. You can’t-” she choked on her words. “At least leave him. Please.”

My sister’s hand tightened in my grip. I glanced down at her. Her silent tears were falling down her face too rapidly to wipe away, but she was staring at our mother resolutely.

“We aren’t leaving him.”

I swallowed. Looking at my mother, shaking in the doorway despite the heat of the night, I knew there was no convincing her to come with us. When I was a little girl, I remember thinking my mother was beautiful. Before my father ever hit her, before she ever met the Preacher, she had been full of joy and love. Now, she had been sucked dry, turned to skin and bone by the men who were supposed to love her. She was a shell of her former self– a parasite, unable to live without her host. She couldn’t come with us. But I couldn’t leave her here alone.

“Take him,” I whispered. 

“Honey!” Addie stared up at me with terror in her eyes, but I shook my head.

“We can’t-” I cleared my throat, trying for Addie’s sake to hide the tears brimming in my eyes. “We can’t take care of him, Addie. We can’t. He’s too young, and we’d never get far with him. But I’ll come back for him, I promise. Once we’re safe.”It was a lie. A necessary one, but still a lie. I didn’t know if we’d ever be safe again, and the thought of coming back here—back to the Preacher, back to the twisted reality we’d been raised in—made my skin crawl. 

My mother rushed down the steps and took Nick from my arms, muffling her sobs in his hair as he slept soundly, still unaware of the night’s events. I wondered, as I watched our mother cling to him, if Nick would remember us. Once it was discovered that my sister and I had disappeared, our names would become forbidden, and Nick would never hear about his older sisters. I wondered if he would feel the emptiness of our bed while he slept, or if he would miss the taste of syrup on his oatmeal. I knew he was likely to forget us entirely– he would grow up our mother’s only child, and he would rise in the ranks of the church until he became one of the elders. He would never leave, because he would never need to. How many children would he have, what would he do to our mother– I would probably never know. 

My sister buried her head into my shoulder, and I suddenly felt as though there were a massive clock ticking over my head. I squeezed my sister’s hand.

“We need to go.” 

My mother raised her head, and for a motherent, she looked like she was going to speak. Then, she closed her mouth solemnly and lowered her eyes, watching the steps as she slowly carried my brother back into the house. Addie and I watched her disappear behind the front door. 

After a few motherents, I turned to Addie.

“I’m sorry, Didi. We have to go.”

Addie nodded silently, and we slipped into the night, moving as quickly and quietly as we could. The commune was still, the houses dark and silent as we made our way down the riverbank. My heart raced with every step, every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig making me flinch. I expected someone to call out, for the Preacher to grab me, throw me down, hurt me– but nothing happened. We were wrapped in the darkness of the night, and the moon guided our way towards the outside world.

As we neared the edge of the forest, I felt a pang of hesitation. This was it. No turning back. We’d be alone, with nothing but the clothes on our backs and a few scraps of food. I would be completely in charge of Addie, and myself, and whatever happened to us would be my fault. But it was better than staying. 

I glanced at Addie, her small face pale in the moonlight, and squeezed her hand tighter. “You ready?”

She swallowed hard, her lips trembling, but she nodded. “I’m ready.”

I took a deep breath as we walked to the edge of the treeline. The trunks towered over us, and I watched the leaves blow in the wind for a motherent before plunging into the darkness of the forest. Addie followed, her movements shaky but determined.

“Come on,” I whispered, pulling Addie away from the opening in the trees. “We need to keep moving.”

We turned and headed down the path, the road stretching out before us like a promise of something new. The night was thick around us, and for the first time in my life, I felt the crushing weight of freedom.