Me:Can I get a picture?
After I sent the text, I realized my mistake. With how my brother has been with this girl, I quickly correct it.
Me:Of YOUR girl.
Garrett:Hold on.
I start arming myself before pulling on my snow gear. I check the drone over to make sure it’s good to go.
Just as I finish getting ready, my phone goes off. Perfect timing.
The second I see the picture, everything changes. The girl in the picture bears a striking resemblance to my blue-eyed angel, with her blonde-ish-white hair. Only this girl has green eyes.
Me:Her name?
Garrett:Libby
Me:Tell me something I can tell her so she knows her sister sent me.
Garrett:This is recon. You can’t get the girl out alone.
Does my brother forget who he is talking to?
This is no longer a recon mission… I won’t be leaving without the girl.
2
LIBBY
The harsh wind burns against my skin through my open window. I attempt to collect some of the snow that has fallen on the window ledge and place it into the small plastic bag I have. When I have enough, I quietly close the window, not wanting anyone to hear.
I spin the bag to secure it before pressing it against my swollen, cracked lip. “Crappers,” I hiss at the sting. It’s been a while since my father hit me, but he has been in a rage since he found out that my sister, Winter, is gone. I anticipated that I might get some blowback from her escaping this life, but my hope is that it will be worth it in the end. There is no doubt in my mind that she will come back for me.
“Libby!” he shouts, and the bedroom door flies open, hitting the wall with a loud bang, startling me. The bag falls from my hand to the floor. “I heard the window open.”
“I was only getting some snow.” I point to the bag. I can’t bring myself to move. My father terrifies me. I often can’t move when he goes into one of his rages. Panic usually sets in and freezes my whole body. It’s been that way since the time he shoved me off the back deck, when he was merely passing by me after storming out of the house from a fight he had with Mother.
I landed on my leg, and it snapped. To this day, I swear I can still feel phantom pains from where the scar is. My limp is a daily reminder. He hadn't taken me to the hospital. No, that would never happen, no matter how hard Winter begged him. That had earned her a few hits of her own, but Winter always put herself in front of him when it came to me. She’s the best person I know. I miss her like crazy.
“Martha!” my father shouts. “Bring me my work bag.”
My fear starts to rise, not sure what he is up to. His work bag is full of tools. “You think you’re going to run away too?” I shake my head no rapidly. I’d never make it. Not on my leg. That’s why Winter had gone alone. She was supposed to get help.
“Here you go.” My mother comes rushing in to hand my father the bag. She is always quick to do his bidding. I often wonder if she hated Winter and me or if she feared my father more. I think it’s a mix of both. I almost get her not trying to save us in front of him because she could get his wrath too. But she never offers comfort when he isn’t around either.
“You know we found her,” Father says as he rummages through the bag. My heart sinks. No, he couldn't have. “She’ll be back here soon enough.” He smirks when he pulls out a hammer and then a couple of nails. “Stupid girls.” Father goes to the window and starts to hammer the nails into it.
How had they found her? Where is she then? My mind races with so many questions, but I don’t dare utter any of them. I was filled with worry when she took off. The snowstorm had only just started, but it was her only chance. In just a few days, she would marry the prophet Joseph. Winter was set to become his third wife, but in a way, his second.
The first died, and the second had yet to give Joseph a child. She had to leave to spare herself that life with him. She was on his radar. I, on the other hand, don't have to worry about that. Most of the people here see me as broken or defective.
Joseph is no prophet. He is the devil himself, if you ask me. Not to mention, Winter and I are pretty sure he killed his first wife. She just disappeared one day. No one talked about it. We all knew better than to ask. Joseph can do no wrong in the eyes of most people here.
I wasn't surprised when he asked Winter to marry him. Well, ask is putting it nicely. It wasn't really a question. It was more a formality to Father. No one says no to the “prophet.” I honestly think most of the men here would give Joseph their own wives if it was something he wanted. All of it done in the name of God. He’s a coward who uses religion to have power.
I think my sister is the prettiest girl on the compound. That can be a curse around here. Because of my leg, I have yet to be asked for my hand in marriage. How could I both hate and love my limp? But that is my reality.
“The wedding will go on as planned,” my mother adds. She was all too happy to hand her daughter over to the disgusting man.