Page 88 of Day Break

“But Elliott ended up being more so?” he asked.

“Yes.” I leaned back and waited as the ferry docked and we started driving again. “I wasn’t Elliott’s first wife. I was his third or fourth. Even I was unclear on how many he already had before me and after me. But that night, the night of the raid, it was my room he came to. Me that he pulled down the hallway, into the secret passage. We carried three large bags filled with money through secret panels in the house and out a back exit more than a quarter of a mile away from the compound. Then we ran through the dessert in the middle of the night. There was a small house just outside of town where he had a car. We loaded up, then drove.” I was feeling tired suddenly.

“This was ten years ago?”

“Almost eleven now. I had just turned sixteen when we were forced to move, and I lost what family I had. Now I was to become Elliott’s slave. I was secluded from anyone except those he wanted around. Even then, I wasn’t permitted to have conversations with anyone without him in the room. I couldn’t go out and pick up the mail from the mailbox at the end of the drive. He didn’t trust me to deliver the mail to him. He said I would lose it along the way. Even if he was watching me, he didn’t trust me with anything other than what he fed to me. I didn’t watch television without his approving the programs ahead of time. I didn’t go to the store or leave the house. The one good thing that changed after moving to Washington was that I no longer had to pray as much. Religion wasn’t really on top of Elliott’s mind. I was thankful he didn’t take any more wives after we moved, which was his right. When we’d lived in the compound, his other wives, the ones before me and the ones he took after we wed, were vicious and conniving, all trying to claw their way into his favor. Since I had borne no children, I was bottom of the pile. The last to eat. The last to fall asleep and the first to wake. My chore lists were always twice as long as the others, since their first duty was as mothers, even though none of the children were Elliott’s. Most of the women had been married to apostates and gifted to Elliott at different times.”

I kept talking as the car sped across the empty country streets. When we passed the gas station, I was surprised that it was dark. Then I glanced at the clock and realized it was almost eight at night.

For years I’d gone without paying attention to the time. Some sort of internal clock allowed me to stay on schedule, a new sense I’d honed to keep me out of trouble with my husband.

Now I realized it was just one more way to control me. Elliott had even taken time away from me.

I was twenty-six years old and had nothing to show for all those years. Most of the sisters I had grown up with were still on the compound in Utah.

When we pulled into the driveway, the house was dark. Lane shut off the car and leaned back, looking at the house.

“It appears my grandfather has already called it a night. Let’s head up to your room and not disturb him.” He took my hand in his.

I wanted that. Wanted him. More than I’d wanted anything in a long time.

We climbed out of the car but as we passed the yard, Byron came rushing up to us. He was soaking wet and covered in sand and mud.

“What are you doing out?” Lane asked, glancing towards the house. “Stay here.” Lane rushed towards the back door, which was sitting wide open.

My heart skipped and my knees turned to liquid. I slid down to the wet grass and hugged Byron.

Looking at the dark house with Byron’s nose pressed into my shoulder, somehow, deep in my heart, I knew that George was gone.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Night never had the last word. The dawn is always invincible.”

- Hugh B. Brown

Lane

My heart pounded as I rushed through the open glass doors. The entire house was bathed in darkness.

I flipped on the dining room light, and it illuminated the madness within. My mind could barely register what I was seeing. It refused to believe the scene in front of me.

I took a giant step backwards, back outside, where the summer mist was slowly blowing around me. My mouth opened and closed several times, as if I was trying to say something. Anything.

How?

Why?

Who?

There had been so much blood. Too much.

Why?

“Lane?” I heard Chloe. “Byron’s bleeding,” she said from somewhere behind me.

I turned to see her sitting in the grass in the light from the dining room, tears rolling down her cheeks. She held up her hands and showed me the rust-colored blood covering her hands and Byron’s fur.

I shook my head as her eyes locked with mine.