The Lies We Tell About Eve

The Lies We Tell About Eve

By Halle Giannelli

Shelly B. Branch was having a particularly ordinary Friday afternoon. So far, she had sorted the mail, answered phones, typed a letter, and ordered out for lunch—a chicken salad sandwich from Crumbly’s. She even treated herself to an extra pickle. Belly full and phones quiet, Shelly settled in for the show. The mystery of the Friday meetings was afoot.

One Friday each month, important men of all sorts came to see Shelly’s boss, Mr. Carter. There were doctors, lawyers, senators, accountants, inventors, even police detectives. The meetings took place in the upstairs storage closet, which was kept locked at all other times.

The order of events was always the same. About ten men arrived, each with a lovely lady on his arm. They filed in two by two. It reminded Shelly of a Las Vegas wedding chapel or Noah’s ark. The women sported matching grins, more ghastly than glamorous. Red and pink slashes across their faces that accentuated their tired eyes.

Shelly chided herself for being shallow. Shallow is where her green-eyed monster lurked. She’d always idolized women like these. Sirens who allured and commanded the attention of powerful men. One day, Shelly told herself, she’d be the type of woman invited to a Friday meeting.

The simplest solution would be to ask about the meetings, but no one likes a nosy secretary. Once, she tried lingering at her desk to eavesdrop, but she was caught. Mr. Carter was very clear. Shelly was to leave early on these Fridays, promptly when the meetings began. Suspicious, but not completely unusual. Lately, he let her leave before dark every day because of the recent talk about a kidnapper on the loose. Her desperation to be in the know did not outweigh her need for safety or a paycheck.

Right on cue, the men and women arrived. Shelly used the intercom.

“Send them up, Shelly. Thank you.”

“Mr. Carter will see you now,” she said.

She furiously tidied her desk, hopeful for a last-second clue before clocking out. She’d just rearranged her pens a second time when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Oh my,” she gasped.

“I’m sorry, Shelly. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

It was Jeb, the eldest of Mr. Carter’s sons, and the one she liked the least.

“It’s my fault. My mother says I’m scared of my own shadow.”

She giggled, because that’s what she did when conversing with men.

“Scared of your own shadow. Shelly, you’re a real hoot, you know that?”

“I am?”

“Sure you are. Hey, I have a big favor to ask. Say no if you want.”

Jeb gripped her shoulder. His palm on her bare skin gave her a funny feeling, like when she took a train at night and a strange man sat too close. She could probably say no, but what if Jeb got cross? She didn’t want the boss’s son thinking she was lazy.

“Say, Shelly. You know these Friday meetings we have upstairs?”

Something told her she was wrong about the Friday meetings after all. Butterflies fluttered in her belly, but not the happy kind. Perhaps they weren’t butterflies. Maybe they were wasps.

She nodded, and he continued.

“We all get together and bring the best girls we know. The prettiest or the smartest. Sometimes we get lucky and they’re pretty and smart. Just like you.”

He tapped her nose with a knuckle. What was she—a toddler, a golden retriever?

“Why don’t you come with me this week? I mean, it’s a no-brainer. You’re good at your job, you’re talented, and gosh, Shelly, you’re a real knockout. Didn’t anybody ever tell you that?”

Shelly thought back. Maybe her mother or father. Maybe Jack Powers in twelfth grade, but that didn’t count. He only wanted one thing.

“Are you sure you can’t think of anyone better?” she asked.

“Come on, Shelly. Don’t you trust me?”

No. No. No. It sat on the tip of her tongue, spurred on by the wasps stinging her insides. But she couldn’t say no to her boss’s son. How could she show her face at work after that?

Jeb led her up the stairs, gripping her shoulder like a pitcher on the mound, or better yet, a butcher leading a lamb to slaughter. He knocked twice on the door. A dark red splotch tarnished the gold knob. Jeb caught her staring and shifted his arm to block her path to freedom. She took a deep breath. His black eyes fixated on the rise and fall of her chest. He swallowed. The bulge of his Adam’s apple disgusted her. He looked hungry and Shelly worried he might bite.

“Hey, what happens at these meetings anyway? Surely there’s more to it than bringing a girl along.”

Her tone was light and out of place, like they were on a date at the drive-in. She wanted to cut the tension, but she’d been given safety scissors when what she needed was a fillet knife.

“See? You really are smart. I knew you weren’t a ditz. We sort of—well, we bring the girls along and then pick their brains. All the guys in the club have stressful jobs, but you already know that. Sometimes even the best guys need a little help. You understand?”

She didn’t. But she smiled anyway. She didn’t want to make trouble.

Mr. Carter Sr. opened the door and greeted them both. He looked surprised to see Shelly but told her to grab a drink and sit with the other women. She couldn’t possibly drink a drop, but it was a good excuse to distance herself from Jeb.

It was more of a room than a closet. A foul smell overtook her senses, coming from a jar on the table. She couldn’t make out what it was. Gray powder. Her mind jumped to conclusions. None of them rational. It had to be playing tricks on her.

“I told you, the girl is not ready to be picked. She isn’t ripe.”

“Dad, I told you. I asked if she trusts me and she said she does. What more do you want?”

Another voice chimed in. “They all say that, but it doesn’t mean they’re telling the truth. The trick is to shower her with attention. Tell her she isn’t like other girls. Lie. Make her think she’s your equal.”

Another man added, “If that doesn’t work, take it all back. Act like she doesn’t exist.”

“Or better yet, let her catch you with someone else. Deep down, all women hate each other. It’s a scientific fact.”

“Show her who’s boss. Slap her around a little. That’ll do the trick if nothing else will.”

Shelly boiled over with anger as the men guffawed at her expense. She turned. This room full of women she’d once envied. What had she been thinking? Women who “commanded the attention of men.” It was never attention they wanted. It was love. Compassion. She saw them clearly now. A veil lifted.

A black-haired woman with long legs sat nearest the door. A yellowing bruise circled her neck, ornamented by a diamond necklace. Shelly sat beside her, glancing discreetly. Her grin was all teeth. She recognized it as the same grin she wore around Jeb, a peacekeeping gesture. All the times she’d been told, You’d be prettier if you smiled. These smiles were the lies women told to survive.

“Look, I brought extra pills. Knock her out and get on with it. I’ve got a major surgery next week.”

Shelly felt a tap on her leg. She looked over and locked eyes with the black-haired woman. Her smile was gone.

RUN, she mouthed.

Shelly’s heart plummeted.

“Fine. Go. Give her a pill or two, in case she didn’t drink any of the punch,” Mr. Carter said.

“Shelly, come on. Get over here.”

She hesitantly followed Jeb to a secondary door.

“I need you to take these. You’ll like them. Promise. I can tell you’re nervous. This will help. I don’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of the other girls.”

He handed her two tablets.

“Go on. I thought you trusted me.”

With no other option, she placed the pills in her mouth but didn’t swallow. She tucked them between her teeth and gums.

“Good girl. Now I want you to wait in here.”

“What’s in there?”

“What’s with all the questions, Shelly? It’s just a comfortable place for you to calm down. Until the nerve pills kick in. It’s fine. I swear.”

He opened the door to a small, empty bathroom. Just a toilet, sink, and overhead light.

“Jeb, I think I’d rather wait—”

He shoved her in and closed the door. Blood rushed to her ears, amplifying the metallic click of the lock. Her knees gave out. Silent tears left muddy spots on the wood floor. Fight or flight, they’d taught her in Biology. If only Shelly could be so lucky. Her instinct was to freeze, but not today.

She spit out the pills, nudging them into a corner.

Voices shifted outside. Scrambling shoes. Hushed whispers. She scanned the door for a crack to peek through. The hateful men circled like vultures around a central table where a woman lay naked and still.

“Attention. I will give a brief background on the Society for our new members. This includes my son Jeb, whom we are lucky to have. Behind every great man is a great woman. Standing before me is a congregation of great men. The women present have also been deemed great by their male counterparts. Each has graciously agreed—sometimes with a fair amount of convincing—to sacrifice herself for the cause.”

The men nudged one another with vulgar pride.

“Over time, each of these women would sacrifice the best parts of themselves. Slowly. Painfully. They’d give up their youth, their ambition, their bodies during childbirth—and being the fairer sex—their hearts as well. Hearts that would shatter like their wills. All in support of men and their pursuits. It is inevitable.”

Mr. Carter raised a finger. Shelly wanted to tell him where he could put it.

“This is a problem that plagues us. But tradition tells us men are problem solvers. The Society of Adam expedites this process. We make it faster, cleaner, and less painful for the women who support us. A way to rip off the band-aid, so to speak.”

Mr. Carter removed his suit jacket and slid on green rubber gloves.

“Scalpel, please.”

Shelly jerked as bile rose in her throat. She knew what was about to happen. Her resolve hardened. She thought of the other women, especially the one who had warned her. There had to be a way out. She would find it. And she would take as many others as she could.

“God took a rib from Adam to create Eve. Now we take back what is rightfully ours.”

Shelly searched the floor. Anything. Just unlock the door and run. She found a hairpin. If she could position it just right…

“Freeze. You’re under arrest.”

__________

The Society of Adam was an underground group, now known as a gang of serial killers. Members lured women through cult-like manipulation, including verbal, physical, and sexual abuse, until their wills were stripped away. The victims were mothers, daughters, sisters, but most importantly, human beings. All known for their intelligence, capability, and vibrancy. The cult targeted extraordinary women, which made the case even more chilling. It serves as a reminder—even the strongest among us can become a victim. Evil does not discriminate.

The Society believed that when God took a rib from Adam to create Eve, women gained an unfair advantage. By taking back the rib—literally removing a rib from their victims and grinding it into a fine powder—the men believed they could restore their stolen greatness. The powder was then ingested. The exact methodology remains unknown.

The case was solved by four novice police detectives who went undercover in a grueling month-long sting. They volunteered, taking charge when their male superiors did not. Detectives Mary Carlisle, Joan Constantinople, Sarah Swann, and Holly Oaks risked their lives to stop the Society of Adam.

An honorable mention belongs to Shelly B. Branch, secretary to Jeb Carter Sr. (founder of the Society). She escaped after being drugged and locked in a bathroom. Not only did she save herself, she helped the other victims reach safety while detectives held the cultists at gunpoint. Shelly could have run. Instead, she returned for the others.

Every woman rescued from that closet recovered, living full, happy lives and achieving the greatness their attackers tried to steal. In doing so, they proved their resilience and power. Unfortunately, earlier victims of the cult were not so lucky. We mourn those bright young women. Those daughters of Eve. They may be lost but never forgotten.

—An excerpt from The Lies We Tell About Eve, by Olivia Branch, daughter of Shelly B. Branch