Sophie Littlefield - Aftertime

Near Cass was a glass with a few inches of tea left in it. She reached for it and drank deep, wished for another. She wanted to kneel in the dirt and push her fingers down her throat until she vomited up not just the blood but everything she’d eaten, not just tonight but since waking in the field. Every drop of water, every kaysev leaf, the food Smoke had shared in the school, the hoarded delicacies in the Box. She wanted to purge and purge until everything was gone, including her memories, not just of Ruthie but of Smoke and the way he’d touched her, of Monica’s thin brown shoulders and ready smile, of the Beater in the cage and the tiny cups of blood.

The women gathered in this stadium had all drunk blood . Blood from a Beater, blood that ran through the veins of a being that was no longer human, no matter what they taught here in the Convent. Cass had seen the creatures feast; had seen the ravaged flesh of the Beater outside Lyle’s house, jerking and twitching in death spasms as the last of its blood spilled into the earth.

But only Monica had protested, only Monica had rebelled, and she was immediately silenced. The ranks had closed behind her, as though she never existed. How long had it taken for the women to become inured to the horror, Cass wondered. How long until the liquid that passed their lips was no more evocative than communal wine?

How long until they believed?

Mother Cora let silence hang in the air at the conclusion of the prayer. In the cage, even the Beater was still, lying in a heap on the floor of the cart, one hand wrapped around the bars of the cage. Perhaps it had been drugged, so as to appear to be calmed by prayer. Slowly, Cora brought her elegant arms down to her sides, and then she smiled serenely out at the crowd. “This concludes our blessing. The Lord’s grace be upon all of you, sisters, and good night.”

Cass felt herself beginning to shake as the Beater cart was wheeled back into the enclosure and women began to rise from the tables, conversation starting up again as though nothing had happened.

“It’s going to be all right.” Adele leaned in close and whispered. “I’m going to tell them Monica didn’t mean it, she wasn’t feeling well. I’ll tell them I told her not to drink. I’ll tell them it was my fault. I don’t have any warnings yet, I can afford one.”

One of the other neophytes paused in front of Cass and gave her an unconvincing smile. “It’s really hard at first. I mean…for all of us. But you’ll get used to it. I promise.”

“And even if that doesn’t work, the worst they’ll give her is solitary time,” Adele continued, as though she hadn’t heard. “Last time they put her in for a couple hours. If they’re mad enough they might make her stay there overnight.”

Before Cass could respond, she felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Sister Hannah. “Ready, Cassandra? We need to get you your new clothes before you go back to the dorm.”

Cass touched Adele’s shoulder as she followed Hannah away, but Adele seemed not to notice, her lips moving soundlessly as she calculated what she could trade for Monica’s punishment.

Hannah led Cass to an office near Lily’s and set her lantern on a desk, where it cast long shadows around the room. She opened a metal cabinet that contained a stack of folded white clothes, selected a skirt and shirt, and shook out the wrinkles before handing them to Cass.

When she reached for them, Hannah held on.

“As you know, neophytes dress only in white. You will receive a fresh change of clothes twice a week. I will take your old things.” She let her gaze travel slowly down Cass’s body. “What size are you…a four? Six?”

Cass tugged at the clothes, stiff from being line dried, and finally Hannah let go. “I’m not sure, anymore. Where can I change?” she asked as neutrally as she could, trying to keep the panic from her voice.

“Right here is fine.”

“Isn’t there… I thought-I mean, in the dorm, we use the changing rooms.”

“It’s all right. I’m ordained. Besides-” Hannah’s smile turned predatory “-it’s just us girls here, right?”

Cass swallowed hard. She stood and backed away from the chair, and skimmed off her pants, keeping her back to the wall. She folded them and set them on the chair, keeping her eyes lowered. She could feel Hannah’s gaze on her, and the blood rushed to her face in both embarrassment and fear. She pulled on the white skirt; it was baggy on her despite the elasticized waist and came down past her knees.

Cass drew her shirt over her head, and then she was standing in front of Hannah in only her bra, the same plain white one the women had given her at the school.

“You act like you’ve never undressed in front of anyone before,” Hannah murmured hoarsely and Cass hesitated in the middle of unbuttoning the folded blouse. Hannah was regarding her with frank appraisal, her gaze traveling across Cass’s breasts, the expanse of smooth, taut skin of her torso, her hipbones visible above the sagging waistband of the skirt. “But I bet you have. A girl like you…I bet you have, plenty.”

It wasn’t the first time Cass had been the subject of a suggestive appraisal. It wasn’t even the first time from a woman. But it was so unexpected, here in the Convent. Her heart thudded a panicked rhythm, terror of discovery making a metallic taste in her mouth. Her fingers remained frozen on the buttons of the white blouse.

“Turn around so I can see you,” Hannah continued in a silky tone. Her hand played at the V-neckline of her shirt. All of you.”

“I…I can’t,” Cass whispered, her lips numb with fear. She had to keep Hannah from seeing her back.

“Yes, you can,” Hannah encouraged, but with an edge. Because I say you can. And what I say goes in here.”

And there it was, the relationship that Cass had been foolish enough not to consider. The powerful and the powerless. The hungry and the helpless. Why should it be any different here, where schemes masqueraded as faith, where trades made in the shadows fueled devotions pledged in the light?

How many bosses had tried something like this with Cass, grabbing her ass in the break room, asking her out for a drink to discuss a promotion or a raise? And how many times, Cass remembered, her face burning with shame as she twisted the fabric of the blouse in her hands-how many times had she simply gone along, because going along was easier than resisting?

“No,” she said, frantically trying to figure out a plan. “I mean I…if you just let me get dressed I can…we can…”

A knock at the door silenced her. Hannah’s eyes went wide and startled. “Get dressed, ” she hissed. “ Now . You’re not supposed to-”

But it was too late. There was the sound of a key turning in the lock and then the door swung open.

Mother Cora stood in the doorway holding a sheet of paper and a ring of keys. Her gaze took in the scene, and her eyes narrowed.

“Oh, Hannah, again?” She sighed heavily. “I thought after the last time-”

“It’s not what it looks like. Not this time.” Hannah’s tone had turned from domineering to supplication. “I was onlyhaving her change in here because there was, there was someone using the common room-”

Mother Cora raised an eyebrow and frowned as Cass scrambled to jam her arms into the sleeves of the blouse, but it was buttoned shut. Frantically she worked at the buttons with shaking fingers.

“Here, dear,” Mother Cora said, taking several steps into the room and reaching for the blouse. “Let me.”

Cass backed away, and her foot struck something and she tripped. She tried to right herself but when her hand came down on the back of a chair it rolled, taking her with it, and she fell, hitting the trash can she’d stumbled over, and landed on her knees.