Into the Light (The Light, #1)(70)

“Yes.”

How could I forget?

“How?”

“I don’t understand”—I hiccupped a breath—“why we’re having this . . .”

“Sister, what did Brother Jacob say about the evidence he left on your skin from his correction?”

“He said . . . it was my reminder.”

“Sister,” Brother Timothy’s deep voice echoed. “Calm yourself.”

Though I nodded, calming myself wouldn’t happen as long as their interrogation continued.

“Do you believe his reminder was useful?” Sister Lilith asked.

“I won’t forget.”

“Very good. Now this correction that you and Brother Jacob are currently enduring,” Brother Timothy said, joining the cross-examination. “What will help you remember—be your reminder—not to lie to a Commissioner again?”

My breaths stuttered, as panic infiltrated my reply. “I-I didn’t lie.”

“What will be your reminder, Sister?”

“I-I don’t know . . . memories?”

“But you said you’re having difficulty remembering.” Sister Lilith’s condescending tone twisted my already knotted stomach.

I shook my head. “Sister, I have difficulty remembering before my accident. I recall everything since.”

“Isn’t that convenient?” Brother Timothy asked.

“I’m sorry. I don’t believe I should say anything else.” I tried unsuccessfully to fill my lungs.

“Very well,” Sister Lilith said, her chair moving.

Thank Father Gabriel, they are leaving.

“Sister, stand,” she demanded.

My body stilled. “What?”

“Is the ability to hear another of your medical problems, or is it only obeying?” Brother Timothy asked.

I scooted back my chair and reached for the table. With shaky knees I stood. The movement of Brother Timothy’s chair let me know that we were all standing.

“As we told you, we’re here on behalf of the Commission. While Father Gabriel’s decree has far-reaching implications, The Light believes that retribution of sin cleanses the soul. Playing house out here alone is hardly severe enough punishment for lying to my husband.”

“Sister, I didn’t lie. I was confused, and this punishment was Father Gabriel’s ruling.”

“Yes, and we’re here today to deliver your reminder, to help you not commit this sin again.”

“M-my reminder? What . . . why are you . . . ?”

“Rest assured,” Brother Timothy said. “I’ll discuss your continued questioning with your husband.”

My body trembled as I contemplated Jacob’s response. I tightened my grip on the table, and then a strange sound caught my attention.

“Hair,” Brother Timothy explained in a tone that reminded me of Jacob’s eerie calm, “is a woman’s crowning glory. The reminder you’ll receive today will help you to remember to be truthful. This reminder won’t only be for you, but also for your husband. Each time he sees your short hair—”

What the hell is he saying?

“—he’ll remember the shame you brought to him. Sister, the entire community will see your reminder and know of your punishment.”

“My hair? What do you mean?”

“Sister, expect your husband to be informed of your continued disobedience.”

The next few seconds occurred in a blur. The sounds I heard, the snip and clip, suddenly made sense. It was as though my darkened world moved in slow motion; nevertheless I couldn’t catch it. As I reached for my hair, Sister Lilith lifted my ponytail and cut.

“No!” I screamed, my ponytail sagging in my grip. “Why?!”

Sister Lilith’s hand connected with my cheek. “That is enough questioning. You’re in the presence of a Commissioner. Apparently the reminders you’ve been given require reapplication.”

Stumbling to the table, I found that my knees no longer held my weight. I fell into the chair I’d recently vacated, still gripping my detached ponytail.

Oh my God. What did they do? What will Jacob say? Will he punish me for this?

Though their voices were close, I couldn’t distinguish them with any clarity. Their phrases faded into my internal mayhem.

“. . . when you think about this, remember that it was done for your own good. It seems as though Brother Jacob has more work ahead of him.” What am I going to do? “Your willfulness needs continued correction.” Why are they doing this? “Remember this reminder was your doing and, as always, avoiding future reminders is your choice.” My hair! Jacob! “Prepare yourself for your husband’s additional correction when he returns.” Oh, please. This can’t be happening. “As you yourself said, you are his responsibility; only he can truly correct your behavior.”

Perhaps I was in shock, but I didn’t respond. There was nothing I could say as their accusations and warnings swirled through the air and my mind. The meanings of their words, the shock at my loss, and the promise of impending punishment paralyzed me. The weight of it all held me captive until their footsteps disappeared behind the closing door and the garage door went up and down.

Finally freed, I moved and took a ragged breath.