Page 72 of Protected By the Sinner
I close my eyes—like I’ve done so often since waking up from the crash—trying with all my willpower to remember anything. But nothing comes.
Exhausted, I slip off my shoes and throw myself on the bed. Right now, surrendering to sleep feels much better than facing reality.
The farmhouse looks new and well-kept, but it’s so big . . . so empty. Why won’t he let us live here too?
Then I remember what he told us: You’re daughters of a Romani. You don’t need to live in luxury.
Romani. Our beautiful mother, whom God took to heaven.
My sister and I used to say we wished we really were Romani—wearing colorful clothes and lots of bracelets, like the women from Mom’s side of the family.
She would tell us stories about festivals and joy. A happy life, so different from our own.
Here, we’re only allowed to wear white. We never cut our hair. And we have to pray all day long, so the devil doesn’t come near us.
I try to be a good girl, because I don’t want the devil anywhere near me, but Elodie said I don’t have to do it all the time like our father says—because we’re just kids. According to her, God loves all children, even the naughty ones.
I tiptoe, trying not to make any noise.
I’m hungry, and I know today—Wednesday—is the day the cook at the main house makes special food.
My father, who is also our leader, Tobias Cohen, lives in this house with his wives.
But we—me and Elodie—don’t. So we don’t get to eat the good food, only soup and bread, shared with the other children and their mothers.
But his cook likes me and Elodie, so she always sneaks us extra portions.
I hear a noise at the end of the hall, and crying too. I know I shouldn’t go over there . . . but what if someone needs help?
I walk slowly so the floorboards won’t creak, but I don’t have to go far before I reach a half-open door. That’s where the crying is coming from. And now . . . screaming.
I cover my mouth with my hand.
Lucile—a girl just a few months older than my sister, and who I know just got married—is surrounded by the six elders. The pain on her face tells me they’re hurting her. And even though I know I should stay quiet, I start screaming for them to stop.
They don’t move and she keeps begging.
I scream again.
And again.
And again, until I lose my voice.
I hear someone calling my name, but I can’t answer. I don’t trust anyone.
I have to run, or they’ll catch me.
Run and never look back.
Protect my baby.
Past and present blur together, terrifying me all the same.
“They won’t catch us. We’re smarter.”
“I don’t want to go back there, Elodie.”
“We’ll never go back, Amber. I’ll always protect you.”
