The Outsiders Keepers

For Sure

I am back; truly sorry for the long wait.

Dedicate to Marion, for without you, this story would not exist.

I stood in the doorway, dumbfounded and out of breath. I didn't know how I was supposed to reply to my father's harsh tone. He never did that to me before.

He stepped closer, and suddenly, I was more fearful. I felt like he knew everything. I felt like he knew about the bible, and he knew about my reading, and he knew where I was. But he didn't bring it up or say anything.

"I apologize, father." I spoke in a clear, confident voice, surprised it hadn't broken at the sight of my father. He was in his work slacks, leaning over my height which only made him more intimidating. His nostrils were flared in anger at me. I didn't realize it was a quarter past the curfew hour.

He seemed to have studied me for a moment, just a moment, as if he was some sort of lie detector. I know for a fact if he thought anything suspicious, he would have brought it up by now. My father was not one to hold anything back from us.

He straightens his posture, and hooks his fingers pressed to my forearm and my elbow, right where my pressure point is. "You are forgiven, but you are to go to bed fifteen minutes earlier to make up for lost time."

I nod my head, inwardly breathing out a sigh of relief. My father's leads me to my room in silence, opening the door for me. When he leaves, he shuts the door at an alarming pace, that wasn't a slam, but still caught me off guard.

My instincts kick in and I want to pick up the book I have stashed toward the middle of my mattress. No one can even feel it as it is buried under the soft cushion.

I glance over to the exact spot on my mattress where just underneath that cushion, my bible lay open ready for me to continue reading it. My father comes in without knocking, and sees me staring at the bed. I jump back, springing off my bed. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing father," I say.

He doesn't seem to buy it. His face comforts into a mask of anger that makes me feel uneasy and my stomach churns. "What are you hiding?"

I am becoming desperate inside. My whole body feels like it's going to break down. "Nothing father," I say, lying again, but I have to do better.

"I am sorry, for I have been distracted recently and staring off into space. I just need to get my head together."

My father seems to buy it, his nostrils have stopped flaring and his eyes seem calmer and less harsh in their gaze toward me, and I can finally visibly relax my shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he says, after a few long periods of silence. "I know that you would never do anything to disappoint me or your mother."

I feel my stomach churn again, and I feel sick, like I may throw up bile right then and there. I have to force it back down my throat just to avoid spilling everything like my guts would pour out.

"You're right," I say, and my guilt conscious kicks in again.

The truth is I've broken more rules in the last few months than I ever thought I would. I see what happens to rule breakers all the time. They are dismissed to never be seen again. There are rumors of the outsiders keepers, people that hold others outside of the community for slave purposes. That's where people who disrupt the community values go.

I don't want to be sent away. I don't want my father with his eyes so heavy and dark to watch his oldest and most perfect role model of society to be shipped off outside the gates, to never be heard from again.