Free One of Many by Emily Goodwin, Marata Eros

here.
    And not one prayer was answered.
    Maybe Kiev is right, maybe this whole thing is— no —I can’t think like that.
    I’m Chosen, married to a prophet. I should be proud, should want to spread his word and save others, bringing them into The Community. As I was saved.
    The pardon is starting to feel like a death sentence.
    Fat raindrops fall, dampening my dark hair that’s in waves around my face. I’m dressed in jeans and a baggy T-shirt, my usual attire. I’m supposed to buy dresses and heels and matching headbands and jewelry. I didn’t like dresses before.
    Before.
    The word hits me hard, and I pause in my step.
    Father Weston comes to a halt and turns, eyeing me hard.
    “Come along, Audrey,” he says and pulls his hand out of Rachel’s, much to her chagrin, and extends it for me to take.
    A group of girls about my age pass us by, talking and staring at their phones. I think those are phones. They’ve changed a lot in the five years I’ve been without one.
    I take Father Weston’s hand and keep my gaze on the ground, not wanting to look at those girls. They’ll think I’m holding my dad’s hand like some sort of weirdo . The thought is jarring, and I feel as if a bit of the old me comes back to life… and I hadn’t even realized I was dead.
    We enter the mall, and my breath catches. Another memory comes crashing back, and now I want to run. Rachel and Anna get excited, talking at the same time about which stores they will take me to.
    Father Weston leans in and whispers something about lingerie. Caroline says she’s going to get new throw pillows for the couch in the living room, and Ginny tells Father Weston she’s helping him pick out a new suit for Worship.
    Anna links her arm through mine, and I see a sparkle in her eyes that was never there before. She steers me to her favorite store and picks out things she thinks will look good on me.
    “Father Weston gets final approval,” she explains casually and grabs a hot pink halter-top dress. “He’ll be here soon, I’m sure. You try on everything for him to preview.”
    “If I don’t like something but he does…” I start.
    “You still get it.” She pulls a white sundress off the rack. “And wear it. We’re Chosen to make him happy, after all.”
    “It’s the least we can do,” Rachel says, holding an armload of silky blouses. “He’s saving us all. It’s such a privilege to be Chosen to obey him.”
    “Are you ladies finding everything all right?” a saleswoman asks. She’s cute, with red hair that matches her freckles.
    A large ring sparkles on her left hand.
    “Yeah, thanks,” Rachel says, taking a step back.
    She sighs and shakes her head as the saleswoman walks away. “Poor thing. She won’t be saved.”
    Those words used to cause my stomach to ball up in fear for the rest of the world. But now… why will I be saved and not her?
    Maybe it’s the other way around.
     
    *
     
    “Audrey,” Father Weston begins during dinner that night. “You’re awfully quiet.”
    I look up from my plate, smile, and feel ice slide down my back when my gaze meets his, because that’s exactly what his eyes are: cold.
    “Oh, I guess I was lost in thought,” I say apologetically. “And tired from shopping.”
    “You better get some rest tonight,” he says and winks at me. Rachel’s back meets the hard wood of her chair as she huffs, crossing her arms.
    If I had it my way, he’d be all yours tonight, I think for the millionth time.
    I repress the shiver of disgust that wants to course through me, and I manufacture another smile, pushing the spaghetti around on my plate. It’s good. Everything is homemade, from the noodles to the sauce. The Community is pretty self-sufficient, and everyone pitches in to work. Everyone but those living here, I’ve discovered.
    “What were you thinking about?” Ginny asks. Father Weston sits at the head of the table, and the wives are seated in order of seniority.
    “My family,” I say, and