Reaping of the Wives

NO WATER IN HELL

Eventually my body exhausted itself. My breaths still came in hiccups but the urge to cry had subsided. The only other sounds I could hear were similar noises coming from the girls in the rooms beside me.

Gathering my courage, I called out to them.

"Hello?"

My voice sounded exactly how my throat felt: gritty, like sandpaper. I hardly recognized myself.

I waited for a reply but I was sure the girls were terrified to answer. I pressed on, needing to hear something other than our cries. Needing them to know who I was incase they made it out of here, and I didn't.

"My name's Grace. Grace Evangeline Matthews. I'm 18 from Brinnon, Washington."

A soft voice from the room to my left finally answered me. "I'm Ava. Ava Natasha Martinez. I'm 16 from Carson City, Nevada."

"I'm Cami.. Camilla Jade Martinez. 19. Me and Ava, we're sisters. Our parents let us make one last road trip before my senior year. We just wanted to hit the coast. Visit our grandparents. But now..."

I burned their details into my brain.

"I was doing something similar," I frowned. "I think it's important that we remember each other. That way if we make it out.. if not all of us.." I couldn't bring myself to say it, but they knew what I meant.

"I'll remember," Camilla whispered.

Ava started to cry. "Me, too."

"How long have you guys been here?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," Camilla said. "It wasn't long before you."

I nodded. Soaking up as much information as possible helped keep me focused. "The man that comes into my room. His name is Noah."

"Jonah," Ava said. There was a long pause before Camilla finally whispered, "Caleb."

"Can you describe your rooms to me?"

Just as I had suspected, each room was identical. Right down to the placement of the bucket and the sparkling clean tiles. Neither girl had anything usable to undo the locks on their chains. No way to escape. Just a single vent. I wanted to tell them that we could possibly escape through it, but in case someone was listening, I didn't.

We talked about anything and everything, and the more I heard their voices, the more comfortable I became. I wasn't alone. I had two other people to help me through this. We had each other.

As we spoke, I couldn't help but to feel that there was still this one thing I wanted to do: pray. I wanted to hold their hands and speak to God but for the first time in my life I was afraid to call upon the same one they did. The scriptures Thomas quoted... I knew them. I knew them well and I hated how repulsed I suddenly was by that.

I always told myself that I'd be strong in the face of any tragedy, because I had faith. I could walk through the valley of death because God is my shield. But as I looked at the chain on my ankle, felt the throb in my head, I couldn't help but to wonder where God was. Why He would let this happen to me. I've only ever lived for Him. I've only ever done what was right. I didn't deserve this. The girls on either side of me didn't deserve this.

No one deserves this.

Eventually silence filled the void between us and we were left to our own thoughts. All I could think of was my family. How adamantly I stated to Mom, over and over, that I would be fine. That this was going to be the greatest move of my life. That everything would work out as it was meant to.

I laughed out loud at the absurdity.

How is any of this meant to be?

How could these God fearing people, who knew the Bible so intimately that they could quote it as if it were their very own thoughts, do this?