Page 58 of Malachi
“Adopted, yeah,” Delilah scoffed, shaking her head.
“Adoption isn’t real here in Zion,” Naomi muttered through gritted teeth. Talia’s eyes were welling up with tears.
“How is it not real?” I asked, hating myself for lying to them in a way. But I did not want to explain that Malachi had told their story. Their truth was important, and I was here to listen. Talia and Naomi shared a look, then looked at the others before Talia finally spoke.
“The Elders here in Zion have a… a project, if you will. One that funds things here in Zion,” Talia spoke. Her voice held such hatred, such pain, that I could feel it inside myself, squeezing around my chest like a vise. “They go on special trips,” she explained, but I could hear the hesitancy in her voice, as though this were a story she did not wish to tell.
“My father has gone on many trips as an Elder,” I commented, letting her know I was following along. I already knew what they were trying to say, but it hadn’t fully sunk in yet. As though my brain had been trying to protect me in some small way when Malachi had first told me.
“The problem is, Eden, those trips aren’t good,” Ruth interjected.
“What do you mean, they aren’t good?” I questioned, allowing them to give me their truth in their own way and time.
“It was on one of those trips that men took me from my parents and brought me here,” Naomi answered with a heavily burdened sigh. “I don’t remember all the details perfectly, but what I can tell you is that the Elders of this community are engaged in kidnapping and then selling young girls.”
Even knowing what I already knew, Naomi’s words hit me hard.
“They are stealing girls…” I repeated slowly. “And then selling them. To whom?” It was a question I hadn’t thought to ask Malachi before.
“It’s called human trafficking, Eden,” Ruth explained kindly, leaning forward until her elbows rested on her knees. “They, or whoever they are working with, are taking young girls from their homes, playgrounds, stores, or wherever, and kidnapping them. From the information we have at this moment, they bring the girls here to a place outside of Zion. They have a cabin they hold them in while they essentially groom them before either adopting them into Zion or selling them.”
My mind raced, struggling to finally process the information fully. I managed to get out just enough articulate words to form a sentence. “What is grooming?”
“They are brainwashing these girls into forgetting about their families,” Naomi scoffed. I would have thought her simply pissed off or disgusted by such atrocities, but even her anger could not disguise the hurt laced through her voice.
A painful silence stretched on until I was fidgeting in my seat, trying to find something — anything — to say.
“It’s a lot to take in, Eden. It was for each of us, but this is why everything is happening. This is why we have to fix it and then leave,” Ruth pleaded, impassioned.
There was an ache inside of me as the full weight of the truth hit me. The thought of leaving everything behind was not a new one. But this wasn’t make believe. This wasn’t children playing pretend. The reality of it all was overwhelming, weighing me down and making it hard to breathe. Yet even as the pain filled me anew, something inside of me lit like a spark.
“I feel overwhelmed, yet…” I trailed off, searching for the words I needed to explain this foreign feeling. The women — my new sisters — didn’t press me to continue any faster than I was ready to. I was grateful to each of them for their patience. “I’m not surprised, I guess,” I finished with a huffing shrug of my shoulders.
I glanced up, taking in each of their shocked faces, my words having stunned them.
“Did you say youaren’tsurprised?” Naomi repeated slowly, as though she hadn’t heard me correctly.
“Yeah, I’m really not,” I reiterated simply. When none of the girls spoke, I continued. “I’ve known from a pretty young age that things here in Zion just felt… I don’t know, off. Learning all of this, while it makes my stomach turn with pain and agony for the poor girls who have been victim to these men, it sort of makes sense in a way. I try to be in tune with the world around me. With the storms, and the bright sun, and the wind, and all of it. I feel at home at Malachi’s house. In Zion — that never felt like home. Now, I have a reason why.”
Ruth looked at me with a sad smile, understanding shining back at me in her dark, knowing eyes.
“You’re kind of an odd duck, aren’t you, Eden?” Delilah murmured. Her eyes were narrowed in on me like she was trying to figure me out, but the smile that played at the corner of her lips gave me no cause for concern. I simply nodded, watching as her smile widened into a full on grin. “Good. We like odd ducks in this family.”
Every one of them chuckled, the tension finally breaking after such a serious conversation. I was grateful for the levity, as I’m sure every one of them was.
“So, what can I do to help further this plan?” I asked, letting my hands fall sharply against my thighs, the clapping noise sounding loud in the quiet room.
“Right now, we just need to keep our heads down and stick to the plan,” Ruth jumped right in. She and Levi were spearheading this mission, or so it seemed, with everyone else falling readily in line.
“The menfolk will work to find information at the church and amongst the Elders,” Talia interjected.
“But that means while the boys do that, us women can focus on gathering information in the way Zion taught us best,” Delilah added with the most mischievous smirk on her face. “Gossip.”
* * *
Dinner had come and gone by the time I heard the front door finally open, announcing Malachi’s return from his first day of work with the Elders. That couldn’t be a good sign. I knew from experience it wasn’t a normal thing, having heard my own parents argue over just this sort of thing a handful of times over the years. Unlike my mother, however, I wasn’t upset or put off by it. I was filled with concern.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I heard him groan, the sound of his boots clattering against the entryway floor following his cursing. I winced as I heard him slowly walk towards the kitchen. I sat at the bar counter, reading a book Ruth had lent me. I didn’t bother to steal a glance at him as he walked past me, knowing that my grouchy bear of a husband would likely not welcome my pestering questions at such a time.
