Page 66 of Gideon
“It’s too soon for the girl to be pregnant. Therefore, there is no excuse. If you ask me, even pregnancy is not an excuse to not do your wifely duties. Far too many women lean on that excuse like their life depends on it. Gideon, as the youngest, I had a feeling you might be the most difficult to rein in your wife. Spare the rod, spoil the wife. She needs a firm hand. Literally,” he instructed, schooling me on the ways of husbandry in a manner that disgusted me and left a feeling of ill clenched low in my stomach.
“You want me to hit my wife?” I hissed through clenched teeth.
Calm down, Gideon. Don’t lose your cool.
I reminded myself that Naomi stood only feet away in the upstairs bedroom. This wasn’t about the years-long battle between my father and I. This was all about the war between Zion and the girls the men of Zion decided to hurt and abuse.
“No, Gideon,” he said with a smile, clapping me on the shoulder in an awkwardly fatherly fashion. “I’m telling you to beat your property. To remind her that she belongs to you and needs to bend to your will. When a woman is too free, she has no control. They aren’t strong enough or smart enough to manage themselves. They need us men to show them the way. When you have a particularly willful wife, as you may with young Naomi, you must bend her with brute strength, not just power of will,” he pontificated.
“I see, Father,” I pushed the words through violently clenched teeth. He wanted me to beat her, to strike and lay hands on my wife. To beat her into submission. I knew it was how things were done here, but there was something different about this. Hearing him speak the words, to borderline command me to do such an atrocity, made the bile rise into my throat.
“See to it that you do more than see, Son. There are two days left in this honeymoon, and I expect you to report in at the church to the Elders, with a pliant Godly wife firmly situated under your thumb, just as your brothers have. Donotdisappoint me.” His last words seethed so lowly and dark, they were more growl than human voice. It made sense. He was more monster than human, in reality.
“Yes, Father,” I answered, steeling myself against the booming ferocity of his words.
“Good, Son. Good. I’ll see you Monday then. Make sure your…thingsare handled.” With that, he stalked out of the house, slamming the door loudly behind him.
I stood there in silence, watching as the lights from his car faded and drove away, back towards Zion. My breaths came in quick pants, panic flooding my system and holding me captive in stillness for long moments. My heart thundered in my chest, rattling against my ribcage until one thought struck through my addled brain.
Naomi.
With my pulse still thundering in my chest, I bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Safety be damned. My hand jiggled the door handle, finding it locked.
“Naomi, it’s me. Open up,” I yelled, then immediately winced as I realized my tone was harsh and chaotic. That wouldn’t help her in the slightest. Taking two slow, deep breaths, I ran my hands through my hair. Calm. Cool. Collected. That’s what she needed.
“Naomi, it’s just me. He’s gone. He left. Will you open the door?” I said quietly, gently through the door.
I listened closely, hearing not a single sound on the other side of the door. My heartbeat somehow thundered harder, faster in my chest.
“Naomi, please. At least respond. Tell me you’re okay,” I pleaded with her, my forehead hitting the door, wishing more than anything that I had the ability to just break it down without scaring her. I needed to make sure she was okay. I needed to be near her.
That need scared me and yet fueled me and filled me with hope all in the very same breath. Every second that passed filled me with more and more dread. I pressed my ear against the door, listening with renewed desperation for any sound from her. Anything at all.
After a few moments, I heard it. Soft, shaky sobbing.
“Naomi,” I whimpered into the door. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m here.” My eyes pricked and stung with tears. I blinked them away angrily. This was not the time to lose it. This was the time to be there for her to be strong and sure and stable. Not to be a whining, crying fool who needed to be consoled because fucking Daddy decided to be an asshole.
“Naomi?” I asked again, the sobbing intensifying behind the locked door.
A soft rustling came from behind the door, making my palms sweat. Why hadn’t I kept a key to these damn doors? Busting it down was looking more and more like the better choice.
The soft click of the door unlocking was music to my fucking ears. I twisted the knob, using every ounce of willpower I possessed to open the door slowly and calmly instead of busting in like I wanted to.
As soon as I entered the room, my eyes scanned around, looking for her. I heard her soft sob beside me, turning to see her crumpled against the wall, a sobbing heap on the floor. Her arms wrapped around her knees, holding herself in the smallest possible position she could contort into as she nearly clung to the wall, tears streaming down her face. Her lower lip quivered and her whole body seemed to shake.
My mind raced with what to do, how to help her in that moment. It was overwhelming. I wanted to take her into my arms. I took a single step towards her and she cowered, her sobs catching with a cry of fear.
“Naomi,” I said softly, holding my hands up in a gesture of non-dominance. “I will not come any closer. I’m just going to sit down right here. Is that okay?”
Her eyes darted up towards me, full of fear and terror that tore my soul into shreds. I sat down carefully, slowly, still too far apart for my liking, but giving her what she needed. It was like approaching a wounded wild animal. All trembling limbs and fear-filled eyes as they tried to bolt with no success. I could see it in her eyes. All she wanted was to run. And yet she sat there, shaking against the wall and unable to move.
“I’m here,” I whispered, my voice cracking as emotion tightened my throat. She nodded her head, but still didn’t move, didn’t speak.
“What can I do? What happened?” I asked, choosing to completely ignore the tears that ran down my own cheeks.
“I don’t know,” she barely whispered, her voice stuttering through her harsh breaths and tears.
“I’ll sit here all night and all day tomorrow. No matter how long it takes,” I vowed to her.
