The Life of the Wife

Chapter eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ISABEL

I was thrown into a room packed with other people as if we were a can of sardines. The corrector told me to be ready for cleansing and to read up before locking the door behind me. Where was I? What were they going to do with Stanley's body? Before I could think anymore a hand reached for my shoulder, making me jump.
'I'm sorry! No, it's okay, I'm one of you.'
'One of me?' I quivered
'The chosen ones to be cleansed.'
Everything was happening so fast and it seemed I had been thrown on to the crazy bus, and there was no stopping. I couldn't take much more and burst out in tears of distraught and fear.

I was given a spot to "make myself at home" in the middle of the room. I had a small cot for a bed, and a bucket of water that I had to wash with. There were four more beds to my left and three to the right. More beds lined up evenly opposite me as well. The room was barely lit and the toilet was only covered by an old filthy curtain. At the front of the room where the door was, sat a bench with candles and some stools. Across the walls had bookshelves stacked messily with bibles and candles.
A lot of the other people were reading, but some were still crying like me. One man screamed and banged at the door for mercy but someone just came in, beat him down and left again.
'Things will get better, the more you behave and accept what has happened, the more content you feel.' The small, frail man whispered, lifting his dirty hair from his broken down face.
'I want to go home, I want my Stanley.' My lips shook vigorously, barely making sense.
'I'm sorry, your not going home. You should probably start reading before your cleansing.' The thin man rolled over on his cot and slid his bony finger across a line in the book he had been reading, trying to ignore the painful cries of everyone wanting out.

I didn't know what time it was, or how long I had been here, but I had slept for a while. After trying to use the toilet without being too nervous, I forgot about it and sat on my cot, pulling my knees to my chest. I wiped another set of tears from my puffy eyes and thought of my family back home. They weren't expecting another call from me for a week, and I didn't even tell them what part of the country I was in. Things felt hopeless.
I picked up one of the bibles and had a look. "Holy Corrections. The Bible." etched into the leather front with a gold shimmer. I opened it and tried to read the small print.

"Our world is made for us to enjoy, but many try to taint it. Holy Corrections is a peaceful existence that will protect you from the evils that will drag you to hell. Do not be filthy, accept the correctors as gods and they will show you the way to true happiness."

I couldn't read much more. This was crazy, how could they just take strangers because they thought they weren't living life the way the want? How could they kill them?

Time felt frozen in the room, there was no sunlight, or view from the outside world of any kind. All I could do was sit and read, or cry.
People were getting rowdy. They kept whispering that someone would be here soon and clutching there books or crying. One woman just rocked back and forth on the floor repeating something to herself.
That's when the door swung open and my heart stopped. Was it time for me to be cleansed?
An old man came wheeling in on an old wheelchair with a young woman pushing him in. He was placed in the middle and the young woman, who looked about sixteen, stood by the door.
The old man lit some candles and then looked around at everyone.
'I am Gabriel, and I am your teacher. This is Garnet, my granddaughter.' His voice was as harmless sounding as any elderly person, but the way he spoke, and the posture he was giving gave me chills. What did he mean teacher?
People say up and kept a close eye on the man, as if it really was a lecture. I tried to stay calm and quiet so I didn't bring attention to myself. Something told me I shouldn't grind this mans gears.
'Passage twelve. The uncleansable heathens. Man will accept demons and the devil himself too easily and let them dig into his soul. These people cannot be saved. They masquerade around doing the most filthiest of things and try to make the clean, dirty. If the problem is not solved the world will become an unholy, godless existence with with demons controlling the atmosphere. Only a Corrector can truly see the truth. The corrector will chose you if your soul is willing, to be cleansed.' He finished with a puff of an inhaler and then tried to explain the passage, but I didn't pay attention. The corrector chose me, instead of Stanley to live. Guilt overwhelmed me and I felt sick. I couldn't hold it back, the vomit wouldn't subside.
The frail man that's cot laid by mine excused me and helped me to the toilet where I heard Gabriel scowling at my filthy being.
I stayed in the safe solitude the curtain gave me until Gabriel left. Was this really going to be my life Now? Was I to chose this strange religion or die instead?
It was hard to chose either, but that's when I thought I had to fight. For Stanley's sake, and for anyone who died in the hands of this place, I had to find a way out.
To do that I had to pretend.
I would pretend to be taken in by the religion and pray they believe me, letting me out.
Then I will escape and be free.
Then I can let Stanley's wife know that he won't be coming home.
Then I can go back to Spain and never return.

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Isabel was just gonna be a one off point of view but I wanted you to see the prayer chamber some more. What do you think? Should I continue her p.o.v? Let me know in the comments!