Chapter 16: Initiation

“The marks,” Sarah asked tentatively. “What are they?”

Sarah had noticed the marks on the other women in the compound, but had never dared to ask about it until now. Previously, she’d been sleepy, or the light dim around the campfire, and it seemed like it might be taboo to enquire. She felt safer here with Rebecca in the sunshine.

Rebecca seemed to understand the question. Without hesitation, she unbuttoned her shirt and exposed her left side, revealing her left breast and abdomen to the sunlight’s warmth.

“May I?”

“Of course,” Rebecca replied. She sat back, leaning on her hands, pushing her chest towards the sun.

Sarah traced her fingertips over the scarred flesh immediately below Rebecca’s left breast. Two cursive letters B and S encasing a classic Christian cross were permanently embedded upon her pale skin, like a brand.

“BS?”

Rebecca laughed. “Take your pick. Blessed Shelter is the official meaning, Bull Shit is popular, but my guess: Brady Sheffield.”

“They did this to you?” She couldn’t resist running her fingertips over the raised flesh. Rebecca shivered. “Why?” Sarah envisioned a punishment, like The Box, for particularly heinous behaviour.

“I asked for it.”

“Good lord, why?”

“It was offered, and I wanted it at the time.”

“Offered?”

“Part of the Rite of Initiation. After we accept the mark, we commit to Blessed Shelter, it becomes part of us. We belong in perpetuity, or so the scripture reads. And I loved someone here. It was enough.”

“Christ, it must have hurt.”

“It sure didn’t tickle.”

Sarah withdrew her fingers from Rebecca’s mark. Rebecca waited a moment, then shrugged her shirt back over her shoulder and buttoned it, enclosing her breasts again.

“Afterward, we join with the Prophet. Our Brady. Hallelujah.”

“I take it you weren’t in love with Brady.”

Rebecca laughed softly, perhaps a little bitterly. “No. I appreciate what he’s done here,” Rebecca gestured over the fields towards the compound. “But, no, I wasn’t in love with Brady, at least not the way you are implying. Perhaps if I had been, it would have been easier or better. Of course, it was nice, free love and all. An orgasm is an orgasm, right? And the S makes it all good, too.”

“You don’t think I should accept the mark?”

“You may not have a choice if you want to stay, or if you want to be with Brady.”

“Would you do it again?”

“Of course I would.”

Sarah lapsed into silence, her fingers probed at her ribs below her left breast, no raised mark upon her flesh. Her entire body ached. She wanted Brady.

She leaned back on her hands and gazed at the clouds again.

Commit your way to the Lord;
trust in him and he will do this:
He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn,
your vindication like the noonday sun.

The structure resembled a large rustic chapel. A sizable fireplace crackled and spat at the far wall away from the gathering of pews, providing warmth against the chill of the late autumn evening. The scent of woodsmoke permeated the atmosphere. Brady’s sermon tonight touched on acceptance, belonging, commitment and loyalty. Sarah sat in a rigid pew fidgeting beside Rebecca and Uma. Sarah heard, but wasn’t listening to the words, though her lips chanted “Amen” at the correct pauses. Before the sermon, Lawrence had dropped an S into her palm, and it was descending into her bloodstream.

Rebecca waited with her after the sermon as the others rose and dispersed about the large room. Soon, passionate noises rose from all corners of the space. Near the fire, Ivan knelt behind Chloe, who relaxed naked on all fours, her long blonde hair obscuring her breasts. Uma and Hua sat on the left behind the pews against the log wall, kissing. Susan and Patricia lay with Brady against the right wall. Linda, Lawrence and Stephanie draped over a pew kissing and petting.

“Go on,” Rebecca said with a playful shove. “You know you want to.”

Sarah nodded and rose from the unyielding seat, walking towards Brady’s group. Rebecca wandered towards Uma and Hua. As Sarah approached Brady, he smiled and touched Susan and Patricia on their shoulders. As one, they both pushed themselves from the floor, kissed Sarah’s cheeks, linked hands and wandered away, leaving Sarah alone with Brady. He motioned her to join him.

She knelt and then lay down on the floor beside Brady. He grasped her hand. They stared at the wooden ceiling for a moment listening to the sounds of passion and the crackling of the fire surrounding them.

“Do you like it here?” Brady asked.

“In the chapel? I prefer outside.”

Brady laughed. “It’s cold out there, but we can go outside if you want.”

Sarah shook her head, the back of her head scratching lightly across the floor boards.

“I meant here, at Blessed Shelter?”

“Is it time for me to leave?” Her heart beat a little faster.

“Of course, not,” he laughed. “You’ve been here four months?”

“I have no idea, but it seems like it.”

“You’ve been here four months, give or take. We love having you here.”

Sarah reflected. The Shelter was home to her, the streets forgotten in the mists of time. There was a familiarity to her sisters, the work, the community. And, of course, Brady was here.

“I feel like I belong here,” she finally said towards the high ceiling. Since her father died, she couldn’t remember ever feeling like she belonged anywhere.

She idly wondered if Brady and she were the only ones clothed in the chapel.

Brady turned to face her, propping himself on an elbow. He kissed her lips. Tingles descended into her belly and toes.

“Are you ready to take the next step?”

Sarah looked into his eyes. “Are you proposing to me?”

Brady smiled. “Sort of.” He touched her gently below her left breast. His finger sent more tingles through her body, even through the rough cloth of her shirt. “It’s a marriage to the Shelter and what we stand for. We will always be a part of you, there for you no matter what. A family that won’t abandon you.”

It all sounded wonderful. His fingers continued to stroke her below her breast, brushing the underside through the fabric of her shirt.

She looked deeply into his eyes. She wasn’t certain what she saw there in the depths: opaque, mysterious, spiritual.

“The Initiation Rite?”

Brady nodded once.

“You want me to get the initiation mark?”

Brady nodded.

“And then you’ll fuck me? Rebecca said you wouldn’t until I was marked.”

Brady laughed lightly at the crudity, no offence apparent in his features.