Yesterdays Gone: SEASON TWO (THE POST-APOCALYPTIC SERIAL THRILLER) (Yesterday's Gone)

willing to do that, well I may as well swing the gates wide open and pour some lemonade for the Demons.” He stared into Rebecca’s eyes. “However, since you are so young, I will defer to your mother in this matter. Allow her to choose your punishment. Either the one provided by our laws, or something of her own design.”  
    He turned his eyes toward Mother. “Please come forward, Sarah,” he said.
    Sarah made herself a statue before The Prophet, still not meeting Rebecca’s eyes. He looked solemn before he swallowed, replacing his grim expression with an apologetic half-smile. “Your daughter has broken one of The Sanctuary’s unbreakable rules, and has thus brought shame to us all and called into question your fitness as a parent. Worse, she has degraded the character and threatened the soul of one of our fine young men, and through her actions invited the Demons to knock on our door.”  
    The Prophet narrowed his eyes at Sarah. “Now, I may be the humble servant of The Good Lord up in Heaven, but even the mouthpiece of God doesn’t get the right to claim judgement over a child so young. Rebecca is the spawn of your womb, Sarah, so I must ask you, shall we overlook this sin and allow you to administer her punishment? Or should she be punished according to The Word, so we can set her as subject to the strength of the Law, showing Satan that he cannot use our children as vessels to poison our well?”  
    Rebecca looked at her mother, but Mother would not meet her eyes. Rebecca cried out, “Mother, PLEASE!”
    Mother stared at The Prophet, ignoring her pleas.
    “Punish the sinner,” she said, an icicle coring her voice, eyes fixed on The Prophet’s. “Punish the sinner now, while there is still time to save her soul, before she joins her sister in The Lake of Fire.”
    Rebecca cried out, then turned to The Prophet. There were a few punishments he could choose to administer, she knew. Though none were deadly, all terrified her.
    “Okay,” The Prophet said, then exhaled a giant sigh. He shook his head as though it pained him to say what he had to say next, but then said it like it was a Sunday morning sermon anyway. “The Sanctuary hereby states that Rebecca will be punished in accordance with The Word and those rules written within. She shall spend one week in the Box of Shame and have all of the locks upon her head removed effective immediately and permanently, so she may no longer seduce the men of The Sanctuary.”  
    “What?” Rebecca was no longer crying. She was screaming, and about to run for the door. But Brother Rei was too fast. He was already on his feet, as were Brothers John and Eli, each on one side of Rebecca, holding one of her arms tight, and hurting her. Brother Rei took a step forward and met Rebecca’s eyes, then produced a pair of oversized black handled shears seemingly from nowhere, and held them in front of her face.  
    “Please don’t struggle,” Brother Rei said smiling as if he would enjoy nothing more than a struggle. He stepped closer. “I would hate to slip and slit your throat.   Be still and this will all be over soon.”
    Brother Rei seemed to enjoy every one of the five minutes it took him to shear Rebecca’s hair to nothing more than a few ragged patches. She cried the entire time, unable to look at any of the congregation. When he was finished, he set the shears on the long table and let Rebecca fall to the floor, sobbing over the high pile of dirty hair and salty tears.
    She felt like an ugly wretched sinner with the eyes of the world upon her, judging.

    **

    May 14, Last Year
    12:15 a.m.

    Rebecca had her butt on the toilet and her head in the sink. Guilt had slithered its way through her stomach, then sent her into the bathroom where she lost everything from both ends. No one woke to the sound of her suffering, which was just as well. She sat in her silence and sick, thinking about everything that happened between Alexis and Mother outside the community center.
    Rebecca crept back to her room and slipped under the covers, but tossed and turned for another hour or so, crying to herself in whispers and whimpers, “I’m so sorry,” she kept crying, her words meant for Alexis, though her sister was a room away.
    Finally, she kicked the covers past her knees and swung her feet to the floor. Maybe Alexis was up, too. Maybe she could tell her she was sorry. That would probably make the bad feelings go away so she could finally get to sleep.