The Grace Year(90)

As I break through the trees behind the lodging house and make my way into the clearing, it’s like coming upon a battlefield, long after the last cannon has been fired.

Girls are standing around in a daze, some are throwing up, a few are down on their knees praying.

Kiersten walks toward me, chin held high, a streak of blood across her face. “We took care of it for you,” she says, glancing back toward the punishment tree.

Following her gaze, I see a man, stripped naked, lying still on the ground. Dead still.

As I walk toward him, there’s a low thrum hammering in my ears. I don’t want to remember him like this, but I need to see him one more time … to say I’m sorry … to say good-bye.

Kneeling next to him, I press my ear against his chest, hoping that by some miracle he’s still clinging to life, but there’s nothing. Only a cold bloody shell. But a shell belonging to a different man. Looking beyond the blood, the broken bones, I know in my heart this isn’t Ryker.

As I get to my feet, I let out a burst of noise. I’m not sure if I’m laughing or crying, maybe something in between, but as I look around at their ravaged faces, I realize they’re looking at me like I’m the lunatic here. “I don’t know what to say…”

“Thank you would be a good start,” Kiersten says.

“The intruder is dead in a pit in the woods,” I say, enunciating each word. “You took this man against his will. His family will now starve because of you.”

“Who cares?” Kiersten snaps. “He’s a poacher. Our enemy. He deserved to die.”

“It’s murder.”

“It’s the grace year!” Kiersten screams back at me.

“Our magic made us do it,” Jenna adds, quietly.

“There is no magic,” I yell, dragging my fingers through my tangled hair. “It’s the well water … the algae … it’s hemlock silt. That’s what’s been making you see things, hear things, feel things that aren’t real. And you’ve been nearly clear of it for months. You’re better,” I say as I look each one of them in the eyes. “But you don’t want to be better, because then you’ll have to face what you’ve done.”

“Don’t listen to her. She’s poison,” Kiersten says. “I told you that from the beginning.”

“Think about it,” Martha says, staring down at the well. “We only started feeling better when Tierney came back with fresh water.”

“I knew this was wrong,” Hannah says, looking at her trembling hands, caked in blood. “I told you this was wrong.”

“Hemlock silt wouldn’t give us powers,” Kiersten says.

“No.” I raise my chin. “You did that all on your own.”

“I’m not listening to this heretic anymore.” Kiersten starts to walk off, but no one seems to notice.

“I understand how it happens now … how we become this,” I say as I walk around the clearing. “I thought it was just the water, but I was wrong. Even without the hemlock silt, there were times when I got so caught up in it that I nearly succumbed. I mean … who doesn’t want to feel powerful? Who doesn’t want to feel like they’re in control for once in their lives? Because without it, what would we be?” Looking up at the bloated limbs of the punishment tree, I say, “We hurt each other because it’s the only way we’re permitted to show our anger. When our choices are taken from us, the fire builds within. Sometimes I feel like we might burn down the world to cindery bits, with our love, our rage, and everything in between.”

A few of the girls are crying, but I have no idea if I’ve really gotten through to them.

And it’s not my problem anymore. Gertie’s right. I have other things to think about now.

Tying my red ribbon to the punishment tree, I walk away.

From all of it.

I have no idea if I’ll make it back to Ryker’s shelter. If he’ll even have me. But I have to try.

Just as I clear the perimeter, I feel someone lace her pinkie through mine. I don’t need to look to know who it is. “Gertie,” I whisper. Tears fill my eyes. My chin is trembling. “Please tell Michael I’m sorry. That he deserves so much better. But for everything we were, everything he wanted our lives to be, to spare my sisters. Please don’t punish them for my sins.”

“You have my word,” she says without hesitation, tears running down her face. “You’re doing the right thing.”

We embrace, and I realize this is probably the last time I’ll ever see her.

I squeeze her tight. “I wish I could take you with me.”

“I’ll be okay,” she says, but her entire body is shaking. “Knowing that you’re out there … knowing that you’re free is enough for me.”

I want to believe her, but I’ve seen what the county does to us. “Don’t let them break you,” I whisper.

She nods, burying her wet face in my neck. “At sundown I’ll create a diversion by the gate. Run and don’t look back,” she says. “Be well. Be happy.”

There’s so much more I want to say to her … but I’m afraid if I start, I’ll never be able to stop … I’ll never be able to leave her behind.