Trying to keep track of this baby seemed to grow harder and harder each day, so Jenna sat down and tried to figure it out with me. We both agreed that I was twenty weeks, since four months ago was around when Damon and I had first married. My belly was huge, and I felt so fat, my stomach protruding. I was only halfway through my pregnancy and I was already a cow. Elijah said I was beautiful and radiant, but somehow I just refused to believe it.
I actually looked forward to church each Sunday. It was the only time I could see Damon, and I longed for it. Even if I could only smile at him from a distance or glance at his beautiful face briefly, it made me feel that much happier.
"Elena, we're going to be late if we don't leave now," Elijah spoke from my door.
I nodded my head, frantically finishing my braid, following him down the hall. Jenna was already at the front door with Hope wrapped in her arms. I smiled at the woman, and she couldn't help but smile back. With a woman on each arm, Elijah led us to the church where the other members poured inside. I noticed my parents, but I turned away to avoid them. I was still in the process of finding it in my heart to forgive them, after what they had done to me. At least Damon tried to earn my forgiveness. He was honorable like that.
We took our regular seats near the altar, the organ music already starting up. I watched as the Prophet wheeled himself out in a wheelchair onto the altar, followed by the members of the Committee. I felt Elijah's hand slide to my thigh, which he massaged with his fingertips possessively. He knew I probably hadn't let Damon go fully. I waited for the raven-haired man to take his seat, but he never showed. My muscles tensed, and I felt my face tighten in fear.
"We have a traitor amongst us," He hissed into the air, "My wedding night was ruined by a knife. With God's help, I am healing."
The space filled with gasps of shock and dismay. Someone had stabbed Mosiah?
"But on the bright side, it is very special week for me. Yesterday was another wedding to a very lucky girl."
The Prophet laughed and the entire congregation erupted with applause. Damon, where was Damon?
"Genevieve," Mr. Barlow said, "She was taken ill this morning, but what a blessing she is."
One of his other young wives was called up in Genevieve's place, but she looked so hesitant, and I couldn't stand to watch as she obeyed him. She was trembling and all I could think about was her wedding night. Was it like mine? Did she resist? She looked so young. When she finally arrived beside him, I saw his arm wrap tightly around her waist, his lips pressing onto her forehead. I could feel my stomach turn, and I held back my urge to gag.
"How does it feel to be married to such a powerful man, Sarah? Not many get such an honor, do they?" He asked loudly, shaking her body in a playful manner.
"I-I'm so b-blessed," She stammered, her voice shaking.
The congregation began clapping like we were at a theatre meeting the stars of the production. But this wasn't a show...this was a circus. Diana had told me about that place and so far, it has been the best analogy.
It couldn't have been more than five minutes later that the screams tore through the church, my heart racing now. I felt Elijah grab my hand as our eyes searched the gigantic congregation. Everything was in slow motion to me and I panicked. That's when I saw all of them...the cops.
"Code 4360. Take the men in for questioning. I'll take the women. SWAT 4, take the children," An officer barked.
I felt them grab Elijah, pulling him away from us, Jenna screaming in horror. She tried to pull him away from their grasp, but she just couldn't fight back.
I watched as he begged them not to do this, but they ignored him, handcuffing his wrists behind his back.
"Elijah," She just kept screaming, crying out again and again.
We were being rescued, I realized, but something wasn't right about it.
"Give us the baby," An officer demanded, tearing Hope from Jenna's arms as she pleaded.
"Not my baby," Jenna shrieked, clawing at the officer who was prying the infant from her.
"Let go of her. She didn't do anything. Stop it," I joined in, confused about what they planned on doing.
"All the children are now in the custody of the state. Just do what we say," The man growled, finally succeeding in taking Hope.
"Why?" I cried as I watched him hand the child to another officer.
"We have to investigate the reported abuse. We are protecting these children now. The men need to be questioned before we can give them back." The man walked away from us, signaling another cop toward us.
I felt someone grab my arm as I desperately screamed. The cop pulled me away from Jenna, turning me, so I faced him.
"Come with me, ma'am," The man said sternly, tugging my arm.
He ignored my pleas, leading me outside to a charter bus that was filling up with other women from the sect. I could hear their cries as the cops shuffled them to it. I stepped onto the bus, sobbing, begging someone to help me.
"No, no, no," I whimpered as the cop sat me down in one of the seats.
I refused to stop crying, the cop simply ignoring me. I saw the driver give the cop a thumbs up before starting up the engine. The driver pulled away with us, and I scraped my fingernails on the bus window, whimpering for Damon. I stroked my belly for comfort, but it didn't help. Jenna lost her baby, her husband, her family and now I had lost Damon. This couldn't have been the plan...I had lost everything.
Hours later, we had been led into a large motel, cops taking our names down on a list, assigning us to rooms. I was still crying, in shock that this was happening. The only comfort I found was in sitting down on the bed, clutching my child and sobbing. It didn't take long for the therapist to come to my room an hour later. She had a huge clipboard, and she smiled as she entered.
"Elena, right?" The woman asked, taking a seat in the desk chair.
"Y-yes," I sniffled.
"I know this is a lot to take in. We will help you, okay?" She asked softly, still smiling.
I couldn't even look her in the eyes, the tears continuing to stream down my cheeks. She was wrong. She had it all wrong.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions about your life. Is that okay?" She mumbled.
I nodded my head, dreading what this lady would ask.
"How old are you?" She began, her hand ready to write my response.
"Seventeen," I whispered, looking at the floor.
"How far along are you?" She gestured to my growing belly, but I hesitated.
"T-twenty weeks," I stuttered.
"Who is the father?"
"Damon Salvatore," I said his name with such grace, the words rolling off my tongue with ease.
"Damon? Are you positive?" She asked, almost shocked by my response.
"Y-yes. Why?"
"The man who called himself 'The Prophet' handed over some video footage to the police
when they arrested him. The video was of a man named Damon Salvatore. He said he had been collecting evidence to hand over to us for Damon's abuse towards the women of the community," The woman breathed.
"No, no, no. He hasn't done anything. Mosiah Barlow is the one who's been abusing young girls. I swear," I squeaked, gripping the fabric of my dress.
"The footage involves him raping a girl multiple times. That footage doesn't lie. You are a victim, I know, and we will get you help, okay?" The woman held my hand as I sobbed.
The Prophet had turned Damon in. Mr. Barlow knew Damon would get the police involved, and he was ready to fight back. He had his own set of evidence, waiting to hand it over to the authorities if necessary.
"You don't understand. He would never hurt me. You have it all wrong," I hollered.
"You're sympathizing with your abuser, Elena. That man is evil," She spoke above my cries.
"No, I'm not. He is a good man," I snapped, standing up from the bed, glaring her in the eyes.
"We'll get you through this Elena. We won't let Damon touch you again. You're safe now," She finished, walking to the door as I frantically screamed at her to stop, but she closed the door without another word.
I angrily beat my fists against the bed in rage. No one was listening to me. They all believed I was a crazy, brainwashed girl who was sympathizing with her abuser. No one was listening to my pleas. Damon was going to rot in prison. This nightmare wasn't over...it was just beginning.
Damon's POV
"And then you raped her," The man spat in my face.
We were in a small, dark room with a stainless steel table and chairs. There was only a small lamp that sat in the corner, my hand chained to the cold table. My bandaged shoulder still throbbed from the rough handling from the damn cops.
Mosiah's men had stuffed me into a closet, while they covered their leader's fucking knife wound. I could hear his cries of pain from where I laid, and I smiled through my own pain. Eventually they came to beat me, but I did not even try to fight back. I let them. Then without wasting any time, they drove me out to the middle of the desert and left me there to die. The cops snatched me on their way to the compound. They could see the limping man walking along the road, supposedly a convict on the run, or at least that is what they believe.
"I was being watched. I had no choice," I choked, my body trembling, the cops face only inches from my own.
"You raped her over and over and over because you're a sick, disgusting bastard, right? The video was handed over to the authorities," The man growled.
"I-I" I stammered before he interjected.
"I think we are done here. I can promise you one thing, you will never touch that girl again. I will make sure you rot in jail," He barked before exiting the room.
I knew immediately that the Prophet had done it. He had recorded all the times I had raped Elena following our wedding. He knew he could use it against me, and he did. He was the smartest man I knew and he would win. There was no saving me.
Days later, they made me view the footage. I was forced to watch as Elena begged me to stop. I bowed my head, disgusted by my actions. I must have watched hours worth of it, seeing how each night would repeat itself, her pleas breaking me more and more.
"I hope you like orange, because you'll be wearing it for a long time," The cop hissed.
"You have it all wrong. Please, just listen to me," I tried to say.
"Did you listen to her when she begged you to stop? Why should I listen to a monster like
you?" He yelled, slamming his fists on the table.
"I love her," I whispered.
"Is that why you did it? Because you loved her? You beat and whipped and raped and abused a girl because you loved her? You really are sick," The man growled with clenched teeth.
"Mosiah Barlow did this. I watched him rape a fourteen year old girl. He has multiple underage brides. Sir, he's framing me," I was pleading again.
"Seems like you're framing him, too. Where is your evidence, huh?" He shot back.
"I-I don't have any," I whimpered and the man slammed his binder on the table, closing it swiftly.
"Then I guess it's your word against his, unless one of his victims comes forward and they are all brainwashed, so I highly doubt it. I think you should get yourself a lawyer, Mr. Salvatore. You're gonna need one," The man snapped.
This couldn't be happening. I had lost her again. Elena was even farther from my grasp. I would never see our child or grow old with her in my arms. I had no video proof of The Prophet abusing anyone. I had only captured what the Committee had done to their victims. That man would walk free, and I think he knew it too.