Elysium by Jennifer Marie Brissett Page B

saying that. You know that it’s impossible. And breaking my vows would be wrong.”
    “Then what is this ? Isn’t this breaking your vows?”
    She swallowed, “I suppose, but this is different.”
    “How is this different?”
    “It just is. …” she said. “Besides, it’s not so easy to leave. You know that. There is nowhere to go.”
    “Maybe we could smuggle you up north. Maybe we could go together.”
    Silence.
    “Adrianne, one day you’re going to have to admit to yourself that this is not who you are. This is not what you want to be.”
    “Don’t tell me what I want,” Adrianne said and got out of bed. She searched for her clothes that lay on the floor. Antoine put his hand on her bare back and gently brought her into his arms again, then under the sheets. He kissed her tenderly on the shoulder and said, “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.” He turned her over on her back. He kissed her again on the forehead, then the cheek, then the neck. He firmly put her leg to one side. She didn’t resist. He entered her and she felt the fullness of him. The weight of him. The slip of him. The pull. The thrust. The ache. The smell. The moan. He was hers, she was his. They were one.

    Adrianne walked out to the harbor. In the distance, the crescent moon sprinkled light on the water. A dot of green flickered in the night sky. The tide had gone out, leaving mud below the dock. A slight breeze moved the fishy sweet air. Surrounded by shades and the irregular shapes of boxes and abandoned storage equipment, Adrianne felt a chill, then covered herself. Antoine had left a half an hour ago. Now it was her turn. Thomas would make sure she got home.
    “Thom,” she called. No answer.
    “Thom?” she repeated. Still, no answer.
    Adrianne stepped over the broken boards.
    “Thom?” she whispered.
    “Hey,” someone said, “you’re out pretty late.”
    Adrianne couldn’t see the source of the disembodied male voice. It came from behind a stack of old crates. She decided not to answer, only to move faster.
    “Where ya going, sista? Somewhere you need to be?”
    The voice was right behind her. She could feel its male bulk following her. She was easy prey. Exposed. Helpless. Before her moved the shadows of several men.
    “Run, Adrianne!” Thomas called. His voice was cut off by the sound of meat being pounded, then a loud bang. Adrianne scrambled frantically. Her robes twisted about her legs, almost making her trip. She held up her dress so she could run faster. She looked around, went to the edge of the pier, and jumped. She fell wrong on her foot, onto wet soil. Above her, running feet scuffled on the wooden planks. Her ankle hurt like hell, but she had to keep moving. She was surrounded by reeds and slimy, smelly, nasty things. She had no time to think or feel or be scared. She moved silently among the leaves. Flashlights peered down from the dock to find her.
    Her white robe was sullied with mud and muck as she went deeper and deeper into the reeds. Someone jumped down from the pier, then someone else. She kept moving. Then a flashlight found her. The men grabbed her. She fought like a cat. A wet cloth with a sweet chemical smell covered her mouth. And all went dark.
    Adrianne woke to light and colors with unfocused edges. She blinked several times and still she could not see clearly. She had a terrible headache, one that she felt in her ears and on the bridge of her nose. The fuzziness focused. Twelve Sisters were in the room. A vigil in white flowing gowns. Four were the Sisters who were best friends. Two were Sisters who were more than that. One was the-girl-with-the-curly-red-hair-that-was-slowly-turning-auburn. One was Stephanie the brave. One was Helen. One was the-girl-with-the-gray-eyes-who-didn’t-speak-too-much. One was the Mother. The last was Adrianne. Ten Sisters held each other. Helen stood alone with skin as pale as her white robe.
    “Of all the girls I never thought it would be