Broken Princess Page 6

  My smile disappears at that thought. As much as I feel guilty that I'm not currently taking the community's sins upon me, I don't miss the punishments, the pain.

  No. It's selfish, I shouldn't be thinking that. It's an honour to have that role. The Angel will reward me. Soon, we'll ascend and everything will be alright.

  I lean against the window frame, not quite ready to leave my position in the heat of the sun. I run my hands over the warm, rough wood. Andros built this hut for me, together with some of the other men. They've built the entire village from scratch. It's rustic and simple, but it works. It's my little home, my refuge.

  My fingers reach something soft, not wood. It's a piece of paper, folded several times and folded so it fits in the tiny gap where the window sill meets the wall. Another secret message? I hesitate before opening it. My breathing is getting quicker. This is forbidden. This can't be good. I should throw the note away or wait for Andros and have him read it. There shouldn't be secrets in this community. That's against the Angel's wishes. Once a week, we confess our secrets and doubts to our confession partners. Mine is Andros, of course, but the rest of the community are usually paired up with people of a similar age. If someone has done something particularly bad, the listener will report it to the Prophet, but most of the times, the sinful thoughts aren't big enough for it to come to that. We're good people, all living with one sole aim: to reach ascension and be with the Angel.

  With shaking fingers, I unfold the note. I can't help it. I need to know. Maybe it's just a joke.

  Don't do it. Life is precious.

  What? I was expecting yet another reassuring message, something about holding on or staying put until help comes, like the ones before. But not this. Don't do what?

  I read it again and again until my shaking gets less. Life is precious. Of course it is, I never said it wasn't. Why do they feel they need to tell me?

  I crumple the note in my fist and slam the window shut, almost hoping that whoever left the message there can see my reaction. I want to throw the paper away, but instead, I stuff it into my little hiding place together with the other ones. If anyone ever finds them... well, let's not think about that.

  I flinch when someone knocks at the door and quickly shove the mattress back to its old position, covering my sins and secrets. I grab my crown from a hook on the wall and put it on; Andros doesn't like it when people see me without it. It's a constant reminder that I'm his, and the Angel's. Their property, their tool.

  "Yes?" I call, making sure my robe is sitting correctly.

  "It's Martin, the doctor. I need your help!" He sounds frantic and I run to the door, opening it wide. His cheeks are red and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He's panting as if he's run here. "One of the women is giving birth, but they're not letting me inside." He's talking almost too quickly to understand. "Please, you need to tell them that I can help. The baby is premature and it might not be able to survive without medical intervention."

  Daisy. She's the only one pregnant at the moment, and I'm pretty sure it's Andros's child. She's not due for at least six weeks though. It's hard to tell without ultrasound and those kind of things, but she's definitely not big enough to be giving birth yet.

  "Is she in her house?" I ask and step outside, turning left as soon as he nods. I walk fast, but Martin quickly overtakes me, so I break into a run, hurrying towards Daisy's home. It's almost at the other end of the compound, so when we reach it, I'm just as out of breath as the doctor. The screams tear at my heart, and a quick look at Martin proves that he's feeling the same. A mother in pain. The fate of her child unknown.

  I take a deep breath and push against the door - but it doesn't budge. It's locked. We never lock our doors, most of them don't even have locks.

  "Daisy!" I shout. "Let me in!"

  "Is he with you?" Rose calls from inside. Good, at least there are other women with her.

  "The doctor? Yes."

  "He can't come inside. No men allowed, the Angel wouldn't like it. He might punish the baby for it."

  “The baby might die if you don’t let me in!” Martin shouts in exasperation. He looks as if he’s about to kick the door in, his usual composure gone.

  “Go away!” Rose yells, desperation and determination mingling in her voice. “I will not let your ignorance harm the baby.”

  “My ignorance?” the doctor splutters. “Have you ever thought that the Angel may have sent me here to help? That he wants me to save the mother and baby?” He turns to me. “Tell her to let me in. You’re his wife.”

  I freeze. He wants me to intervene. He believes I have some kind of authority. Well, I don’t. Andros may have decided to call me the Princess, but I have no powers. On the contrary, that title sets me apart from the other women, stops me from being one of them. They don’t care about me, and they certainly won’t listen to me.

  Daisy screams again, a wail full of fear and pain. I take a deep breath and slam my fist against the door. She needs help.

  “Let us in!”

  “No!” Rose shouts at the same time as another woman calls, “It’s coming!”

  It’s Myrtle, one of the oldest women in the community. She’s a grandmother, although she’s never told us about her family. Once you become part of the Angel’s family, you leave your mortal family behind.

  Martin stands next to me and pushes against the door, trying to break in. It doesn’t budge. Daisy’s husband is a carpenter and right now, I wish he wasn’t so talented. This is probably the sturdiest door in the entire village.

  More screams from inside. “It’s in the wrong position,” Myrtle says loud enough for us to hear it. “She’s bleeding too much.”

  Angel, help us.

  “She might die if I don’t help her,” Martin yells, hammering against the door, his fists clenched with anger. “How can you let that happen?”

  Something is pushed against the door from the inside. “Go away, you’re angering the Angel!”

  The sound of our hands on wood changes, becomes deeper. Rose must have blocked the door. Why is she doing this instead of helping Daisy? Is she really that worried that a man might see Daisy in this position, or is there another reason?

  Suddenly, the cries stop and Daisy falls silent. I stop knocking and put my ear against the door, almost hoping that she’ll start to screams begin again, or that the cry of a baby breaks the silence. Nothing. All I can hear is hurried footsteps inside, and a low, inaudible whisper.

  “What’s going on?” I shout, my worry reflecting in Martin’s expression.

  Nobody replies. My fingernails rake over the smooth wood of the door, the tension in me threatening to turn into tears. Please, Angel, let them be alive. Let the baby live, it’s innocent, it’s not done anything wrong. Don’t take them.

  My prayer is useless. It’s too late.

  When the two women inside begin to chant the Angel’s mantra, I let myself sink to the ground, my back against the door that stopped us from saving two lives.

  “Suffering brings peace.

  Pain is salvation.

  The Angel is our shield and our refuge.”

  10

  We don’t do funerals. We don’t mourn. We hope that the Angel has taken them into his realm, and if not, then there’s nothing we can do.

  Life goes on. Andros returns. The wounds that had healed break open again as he starts to work on his canvas again. He keeps me in my house, only letting me leave for prayers.

  Nothing has changed, and yet, inside of me, there’s turmoil. I don’t know what to think anymore. What to do. What to say. What to confess. Tomorrow is the day of confession, and I need to decide how much to tell Andros.

  That in itself is a sin. It’s wrong. I should tell him everything, like before. Like I used to. I need to tell him that I have doubts, that I think Daisy could have been saved. That her baby might still be alive. That things done in the Angel’s name don’t automatically have to be good.

  But that’s blasphemy, isn
’t it? The Angel guides us, helps us be better people. Maybe he wanted Rose and Myrtle to prevent the doctor from helping. Maybe he had plans for Daisy and the baby. Maybe they’re now by his side, forever in Paradise.

  But what if he didn’t?

  I’m glad I don’t have to be amongst the others right now. It gives me time to think without having to hide my feelings. I worry that they can see the doubt in my eyes. Andros can, I’m sure of it. He knows so much, far more than he should. Sometimes he looks at me and it feels like he can see the inside of my soul. Maybe the Angel looks through his eyes.

  I didn’t even know Daisy that well. She was only twenty and came here with her husband, who’d been a follower of the Angel for some time. They seemed happy together, and even though the child likely wasn’t his, I’m sure they would have been a good family.

  Now, he’s a widower who isn’t supposed to grieve. He hides his sadness well, but it shows in the sag of his shoulders, the crinkles of his shirt, the way he chants the mantras even louder than before. I want to go to him and tell him how sorry I am, but that’s not right on so many levels.

  Instead, I stay as I am, playing my role as the Prophet’s wife, while inside the doubt is eating away at my faith in the Angel.

  No, maybe not the Angel. I still believe in him, I trust him. Who I doubt is Andros and the rules of this community.

  He’s asked me to come and see him in his office. It’s strange, usually he just turns up at my door, no warning at all, but this time, he’s sent Rose to give me his message. She looks at me curiously as I read his note, but doesn’t say anything.

  “I’ll just need to get changed,” I tell her, and she nods and walks away, leaving me in peace. I don’t actually need to change, but I want a moment to think. What does Andros want from me? It’s probably something public, something where other people are involved. I hope it’s not another public punishment. Those are the worst.

  I sigh and put my golden crown on my head, grimacing as I do so. I hate that thing, and yet, it’s my burden to wear.

  Not many people are out and about; it’s just before lunch time when everyone is busy. I hurry over the square to the community building in which Andros has his office. He doesn’t spend a lot of time in there, so I’ve only been in to visit him a couple of times.

  I knock on the door and he calls for me to enter. The office is dark, for some reason he’s pulled the curtains shut. It’s so nice and sunny outside, but I know better than to ask why he’s spending time in a dark room.

  “We’ll ascend on Friday,” he says by way of greeting. “It’s the anniversary of my first vision, so I think it’s fitting that it’s the day we finally travel to the Angel.”

  I stare at him. Despite him talking about Ascension more and more during the past couple of weeks, it comes as a shock. This week. Friday. Ascension.

  “You don’t look happy,” he observes, and I quickly put a smile on my lips.

  “I’m just surprised. I thought we’d need more time to be ready.”

  He points at several boxes stacked up in the corner behind him. “I’ve got all the supplies, enough for everyone in the community. You and I will help the others reach the Angel, and then we’ll ascend together, as husband and wife.” He smiles widely. “I can’t wait to finally show you his magnificence. The Angel is overwhelming in my visions and dreams, and in reality he will be even more radiant. We will sit by his side, the others at our feet, and we’ll be happy for all eternity.” He walks around his desk until he stands in front of me and lifts my chin with a tap of his finger. “We’ll be together forever, sweet little bird. Nobody will ever get between us.”

  I suppress a shudder. I want to ascend, of course I do, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life – no, not life, eternity - with Andros. I don’t think his cruelty will vanish once we’ve ascended. Unless the Angel intervenes, it will stay how it is now, the beatings, the pain. Will he still be able to use me as his canvas, or do wounds heal immediately in Paradise? I’m not brave enough to ask.

  He leans down and kisses me hard, his lips tight against mine. I know better than to struggle. For the first time, I realise that this will be my fate forever. There is no escape from Andros.

  Unless… I part my lips in surprise at the direction my thoughts are taking, but my husband takes it as an excuse to plunge his tongue into my mouth. This time, I can’t help shivering in disgust, but luckily, he interprets it as arousal and groans.

  “We’ll be together forever,” he whispers when he finally breaks the kiss and lets me step back. “You’ll always be mine.”

  11

  For now, Andros has told me to keep the impending ascension quiet. He’s busy preparing, although I’m not quite sure what that involves. I think I’m the only one who knows that it’s almost time.

  It’s Tuesday today, only three more days. He’s going to have to make arrangements for the children soon. The plan was to have one couple stay behind to look after them, but Andros hasn’t announced who that’s going to be yet. They’re going to be disappointed to be prevented to ascend with the rest of us, but someone needs to prepare the next generation of believers. We can’t be the last. The Angel relies on us to get more followers for him. Maybe he’ll create a new Prophet, who knows.

  There’s a noise from outside my house and I jump up, expecting Andros, but the door stays shut. Instead, a piece of paper has been pushed underneath the door. Another message. They’ve become less frequent, although I still get regular food gifts through the window. Fruit, mostly, but yesterday it was a bar of chocolate. I’m feeling less and less guilty about eating them.

  I snatch up the envelope and rip it open. The paper inside only has a single word scribbled on it.

  WHEN?

  I stuff it in my pocket and open the door, but of course, there’s nobody to be seen. Some villagers are walking around in the distance, but none of them even look in the direction of my house. The mysterious messenger is very adept at staying hidden. Now, he wants me to answer for the first time.

  I close the door and lean against it, looking at the message once again. When. He must mean the ascension. Nothing else makes sense. There’s a tiny pencil in the envelope, only as long as my little finger. I should be questioning whether to answer, whether to finally hand the notes to Andros, but instead, I write FRIDAY on the back of the paper.

  Usually, my secret deliveries come through my window – which is why I always leave it open now, unless it’s raining – so I fold the message as small as I can and squeeze it in the gap between the glass and the frame. Hopefully, he’ll find it there.

  Strange though. How does he know that the ascension is close? Maybe he didn’t mean that after all? Maybe he wanted to meet? Or… why am I even thinking that it’s a he?

  My head is spinning; I need air. I put on my crown and make sure my clothes are covering me in all the important places, before stepping outside, taking a deep breath.

  The smell of fresh bread tickles my nose. Strange, the kitchen is quite far away from my house, but it seems the wind is strong enough today to carry the scent all the way to me. I smile and head towards the promise of food.

  * * *

  The only person in the community kitchen is one of the novices. His red robe is covered in flour and he’s rolled up his sleeves, exposing ample muscle as he kneads a giant ball of dough.

  I’ve only seen him from afar, during prayers, but haven’t actually spoken to him. Now that he’s not wearing his hood, I can finally look at him a little closer. His hair is cut short like it’s the custom, with the ends a tiny bit redder than the roots. Maybe he had his hair dyed before he came here?

  His back is broad and muscular, stretching the robe. I remember seeing him for the very first time and thinking that the other two recruits would have less of a problem with the small amounts of food we’re allowed, but now that I know he’s working in the kitchen, I feel less bad for him.

  “Can I help you?” he asks without looking
up.

  “It smells nice,” I splutter, not quite sure what to say – I’m not supposed to be here. He’s a man, I’m a woman, and we’re alone. That’s as forbidden as it gets. “I should go,” I add and turn around.

  “Wait,” he calls before I can leave. “Can you help me with something? The other cook is ill today, and I don’t think I’m going to get everything ready by lunch time.”

  I hesitate. I really shouldn’t be here. I should leave and find a man who can help him instead of me.

  “Please?” he asks again. He’s turned around and is watching me curiously. His face is just as covered in flour as his robe, and his hands are sticky with bread dough.

  “Okay then.” I close the door behind me. “What shall I do?”

  He raises an eyebrow as if he’s surprised that I stayed, but then he turns around and tears his big ball of dough into two parts. “Could you knead this? The bread will be better if it’s worked thoroughly, but I don’t have the time.”

  I nod and roll up my sleeves before noticing that it’s not proper. Too late. And anyway, this is for the good of the community. People will be unhappy if there’s no lunch.

  I start to knead the dough, enjoying the strange blend of stickiness and smoothness. The soothing smell of yeast fills the room, mixing with another. “Soup?” I ask and the man nods.

  “Pea soup. It’s pretty much ready, so all we need to get done now is the bread. I should have probably made the bread first, but I’m still new to this.”

  I’m tempted to ask him what he did before he came here, but we don’t do that. Our old lives don’t matter now that we’ve found the Angel to guide us.

  We knead the bread in silence. It’s a peaceful task, despite my arms slowly beginning to ache from the unfamiliar strain. I’m not used to manual labour. One of my sleeves falls down and I roll it back up again, higher this time to make sure it stays in place.