Bravery?

TW: This story contains mentions of physical violence, mental health issues, and a cult

My breath rattles in my lungs as I try to take a calming breath. My hands fist at my sides. This is it. This is the decision that'll change everything.

Or it won't, and I'll be stuck spinning my wheels for the rest of my life. The bruised skin on my back stretches uncomfortably tight as I shuffle on my feet. After today, they'll be no new bruises. No new broken bones, no more punishment for breaking the rules. Whatever the rules were supposed to be. The Absolution changed their tenets every week, it seemed. And the younger members of the group, myself included, were the ones to catch their ire. Group? The better word for the Absolution is cult. That's what they've always been, whether or not they'll admit it. And I'm leaving them today. If I can finally talk myself into it. 

I lean forward, placing my hands on the vanity, my knuckles nearly as white as the marble countertop. I look up, ignoring the tattered nails on my fingers, and meet my own eyes in the mirror. The typically caramel brown color looks darker surrounded by deep purple bruises. My pupils are wide. I shut my eyes and take another deep breath. If I stay, I'll be beaten again. And again. And again. There's always some excuse, some reason for the clergy to exert their power over the other members. For my mother to exert her power over the other members. 

This time, though, I knew what sparked the abuse. They'd grabbed another girl in the congregation for reading a book I'd given her, and dragged her forward, screaming about how that book wasn't approved by the clergy. How the book spread the devil's word. That book had definitely been approved at one time, otherwise I wouldn't have loaned it out. I've always been meticulous about hiding my unapproved books and keeping them separate from the approved ones. I'd objected before I'd known what I was doing, before I'd had time to let the fear consume me.

I took the beating for both of us yesterday. I'm going to make it the last one. Somehow. Well, not somehow. I'm going to leave. I'm going to walk away from the only belief system I've ever known. I'm going to walk away from their lies, from their ever-present shadow. And then I'm going to the police. I'm going to tell the world what they've done to me. To every other kid stuck under their shadow. Because if I don't, no one will. And the only thing more terrifying than leaving is letting this continue.

"You know they'll find a way to prove you fell down some stairs or something. It'll be hard for you to prove you were actually beaten." I twist towards the sound, then fix my stare on my cousin James. 

"Something has to change." My voice is soft. 

"When they find out you tried to report them, Claire, they'll make yesterday seem easy. And what do you plan to do when you're out? You won't have any money or shelter. I know you don't have any food packed in your bag. It's a rough world out there, especially for people barely eighteen years old." 

I clear my throat, my eyes darting to my packed duffel bag on the floor. "I'll figure it out. Thanks for worrying." 

James looks away from me, his throat working on a swallow. There're several long minutes of silence.

"Let me know how the real world is, okay? And...let me know if you're happy." 

I squash the urge to hug him. Physical contact is frowned upon in the Absolution. I'd, at the very least, make him uncomfortable, or get him into serious trouble if someone walked in and saw us. 

"Okay. I'll find a way to let you know. I promise." 

He nods, then leaves me to my thoughts. 

I can do this. All I have to do is grab my bag and sneak out the front door. Then I have to make my way to the police station across town and show them my injuries. Tell them my story. Easy. This should be easy. Not easier than continuing this existence, than staying with the familiar, but easy enough. 

Why am I the first one to do this? Why am I the only one to leave? Am I actually taking the coward's way out here, despite my fear? Or is leaving the truly brave thing? 

I don't know. I don't have the answers. All I have is a hollow feeling in my gut that's sure to get worse, even if I don't decide to go through with this. 

I pick my bag up off the floor.

Sneaking past my mother to the outside is no challenge.

​Figuring out the bus schedule is harder, but I get there, firmly ignoring the stares of the other passengers. My mother would claim they were planning my abduction, or the corruption of my soul, or something equally horrible. But humanity has to be better than that. Has to be better than my childhood. 

"Are you okay?" A woman asks, moving to sit to my left. The bus goes over a bump, jolting me closer to her. I look at her, trying to think of the right words to say. I've never spoken to an absolute stranger before. 

"I will be, I think. Are you okay?" Surely it's polite to reciprocate the question.

"I'm not the one with a black eye and a hundred other bruises. What happened to you, sweetie?" 

"Nothing. I'm fine." The knee-jerk response bubbled up before I could stop it. The elderly lady's eyes tighten as her lips purse.

"If you say so, darling. If you change your mind about that, call this number." She hands me a card. "Call this number. My church helps women get out of dangerous situations. Maybe you know someone who could use our help." 

The lady gets up and leaves, just like that. I tuck the card in my pocket, then take a deep breath. I'll be fine.

The bus stops in front of the concrete behemoth of the police station. My heart is pounding so loudly I can hear the blood pumping in my ears. This is it. Once I step in here, there's no going back. This is the ultimate betrayal. I'm leaving everything behind. A new life awaits. Bravery or cowardice, I may never know. 

But I take the next step.