I looked down at Sapphira and shook my head. My face was drenched with tears as I held her to my chest. “You are mine.” I smiled through my tears when Sapphira stopped crying and looked up at me. I kissed her head, feeling the warm skin beneath me. “I love you,” I said, my voice catching in my throat. “I love you, Sapphira.”
The door flew open and Brother John, followed by Sister Leah, stepped through. I wanted to run, to flee with my daughter, but I was trapped. There was nowhere to go.
Brother John glared at me in disapproval. “Phebe, hand the baby over to Sister Leah. Stop this foolishness.”
“She is mine,” I said under my breath, defiant.
He must have heard me, because he shook his head. “She is a David Baby. She belongs to the faith. You are a Sacred Sister. And you have a different path than being a mother. A much worthier cause.”
He came closer, and closer still until he had his hands on Sapphira. “No!” I cried again as he took her from my hold. “Please . . . I love her!” My chest racked with sobs and my body shook as Brother John gave my baby to Sister Leah and she took her from the room.
I screamed.
I screamed and I screamed until my throat was raw. I did not remember what happened next, everything was a blur, but when I lifted my head, Brother John was gone from the room too. Only Martha and I remained. My eyes were swollen from crying, and my body hurt all over from giving birth. But nothing was greater than the void I felt in my arms. The empty space where Sapphira should have been.
The pain came in crashing waves, over and over again. “Sapphira,” I whispered. “Sapphira . . .” Her name felt like a cruel prayer on my lips.
A hand lay on my back, stroking up and down. “Martha.” I fell into her lap. “What am I to do now?”
I felt Martha’s tears hit my cheek—a shared pain. She stroked my hair. “Brother John told me that we can earn the right, through fishing, to see them on occasion. We are forbidden from saying who we are to them, but we may claim that we are their sisters. They will at least give us that.” Her voice sounded as desperate as I felt.
I blinked quickly, trying to rid the water from my eyes. “They will?” I asked, a glimmer of hope sprouting in my shattered heart.
“Yes,” Martha said. “And that is what I intend to do.” She sniffed. “If we recruit more men than our quota, our reward is time with them. And I must see him, Phebe. I cannot . . . I cannot . . .”
“Breathe,” I finished for her, when she could not express what was in her bruised heart.
“Yes,” she said after several silent moments.
Clutching my hand to my chest, I pictured Sapphira in my head.
My heart never healed after that day, shattered and irreparable. But I believed in our prophet. In the end, I believed he would do what was best for his people—including me.
I just had to obey and have faith . . .
AK’s chest was drenched as I fought to breathe through the memory of that day. His hand was tight in my hair, and I held onto him as though I would fall apart if not for his compass.
“Fuck, Phebe,” he said. “I got no words for that fucked-up shit.” He pulled me even closer to his body. “Did you ever see her again?”
I nodded, recalling those precious days. “It took me two years to see her again. They said I needed time to set her free from my heart. It never worked, of course. I knew that my bond to her would never fade. The day I met her again, she was playing outside with some other children.” I smiled though my tears. “She had the brightest, blondest hair, similar to Lilah’s, but Sapphira’s eyes were so dark, like midnight—I did not know who her father was, he could have been any one of the several men I had served, but he must have had those eyes. And to the side of her left eye lay the large freckle, the memory of which had gotten me through the two years before.” I looked up to see AK watching me. “I sat beside her on the grass. I was so nervous.” I laughed. “Nervous at meeting my own flesh and blood. I was shaking so hard that it took me forever to ask if I could play with her. She was nervous at first too. It transpired that she was a very shy girl. Beautiful, but extremely shy. It took a further two visits for her to speak to me. For her to smile.” My bottom lip quivered. “And her smile lit up my life, AK. There was no sun before that day.”
I screwed my eyes shut for a second, and AK pulled me further up his chest. “What?” he asked, searching my face, tone low.
“She was six when I told her I was her sister. Her blood. Her sister, AK . . .” I shook my head. “My soul died that day. Died when I could not tell her that she was mine, that I was her mother and she was loved more than I had known possible. She was the fabric of my soul. The very air I breathed.”
“And you earned those visits?” AK said tightly. His hold on me grew firmer.
“I fucked men, AK. I fucked my way through so many men to get to those visits. I fucked so well that I won rewards from the prophet for my recruitment record, medals. And they rewarded me with a much-coveted position—head Sacred Sister. I taught others; I led our missions. I was called upon to entice and impress the most important of Prophet David’s, and then Judah’s, visitors.” My chest tightened and a sob sailed from my throat. “But they made her a Sacred Sister too, AK. My baby, my little girl, they made her a Sacred Sister. They turned my daughter into a whore.” My chest ached. “I knew it was likely. The female David’s Babies were often put into the same circle as their mothers. The prophet deemed them worthy of being one because it was already in their blood. But it still hurt more than anything when I discovered she was in training.”
“Fuck.” AK pressed a kiss to my head. I reared back, refusing his kind touch. His eyebrows pulled down.
“No,” I said. “You do not understand.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I placed my finger over his lip to silence his words. “I believed in it all, AK. I believed that my sacrifice, no matter how hard it was to endure, was necessary because the prophet deemed it so. Even when Sapphira was made a Sacred Sister, I believed it was God’s way. Despite the pain it caused, the hardship to us both, I would never doubt the prophet. I truly believed he knew what was best.” I choked on those pathetic words. “I was stupid and na?ve.” I sucked in a pained breath and let more tears fall. “I failed her in every way because of my blind faith. I failed Lilah, encouraging her to believe and rejoin the faith before she was punished.
“It was not until we all came to New Zion after Prophet Cain’s ascension, and things began to change, that the veil that had shrouded my eyes drew back and the truth of our so-called mission was revealed to me. It was all false . . . everything we did had been due to the ego of one man . . . and all those people perished because of it. . .”