Trigger Warning: This chapter, and really the entire serious deals with some really dark themes. I try my best to tackle all of them in a tasteful manner that doesn't make light of or glorify the behavior.
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The dark-robed figure loomed over Jacob, his face obscured by his hood. His raspy voice seemed to emanate from everywhere at once.
"Brother Jacob, you stand before the sacred waters, ready to begin your purification. Say yes, and I shall guide you along the path."
Jacob swallowed hard, chest tightening. Across the moonlit clearing, he could see Emily being led away by George. "I...yes. I'll do whatever is required."
"Wise choice," the hooded man hissed. "Now let us cleanse you of your transgressions, starting with Lust. Speak aloud each act of carnal indecency you have committed. Only then, will you be able to properly atone for your sins."
Shame burned Jacob's cheeks as flashes of intimate moments with Emily played through his mind - her soft gasps, the heat of their mingled bodies, his worshipful caresses along the curves he knew by heart.
As each salacious memory passed his lips, the hooded figure grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and plunged his head beneath the icy waters, holding him under until his lungs burned. Just as his vision started to strobe from lack of oxygen, he'd yank Jacob up, allowing him a thin whistle of air before the next confession.
"The rear parking lot after Emily's senior prom...her mouth around me after too many wine coolers..."
Dunk, churn of water filling his senses, explosion of bubbles as he was hauled up again, spluttering.
"I have touched her... most sensitive areas until she reached climax."
He was dunked into the icy water again. His lungs burning for air. "I've allowed her to touch me, also until climax."
Another dunk. This went on for the next fifteen minutes while Jacob thought about every possible act of lust they had committed.
"Enough sins of the flesh!" The rasping voice seemed to wrap around his mind like a thick tendril. "Let us move on to Greed. What materialistic temptations have caused your soul to stray from righteousness?"
Jacob racked his brain, desperate to appease. "I...I've been selfish with money before. Spent Emily's hard-earned cash on stupid stuff instead of saving for our future."
The bone-chilling laughter made his skin prickle. "Trivial, but we must abolish all sin." Another vicious shove, explosive dunk.
Across the water, Jacob caught a glimpse of Emily, her white dress now thoroughly soaked and plastered against her trembling frame as George held her head beneath the dark waters. He watched in horror, fueled by his own desperate gasps for air, as George's hands slowly crept up her thighs, parting the thin fabric with each dunk.
The ritual seemed to stretch for an eternity of excruciating humiliation and struggle, the sins becoming more abstract the longer it dragged.
Wrath - "I've...I've wanted to punch Emily's asshole father in the face every time he told me I wasn't good enough for her."
Envy - "I resent how easy other people's lives look. How they were born into money and had everything handed to them instead of having to scrimp and fight for every opportunity."
Pride - "I'm...I'm too arrogant. Too sarcastic and convinced of my own cleverness at times."
The confessions weren't just dunkings in cold water. Each one cut deep into his mind and soul, stripping away layer after layer until only the rawest, most basic part of himself was left. By the time the hooded man finally let him go, he collapsed into a shivering, soaking mess on the muddy bank, choking and gasping for air. His view of himself was suddenly much lower after hearing every wrong thing he'd done listed out loud.
Just moments earlier, he had faced this judgment feeling confident and defiant. But hearing his own confessed sins and mistakes thrown back at him was like staring into a harsh mirror, showing him an ugly, twisted version of himself that he didn't recognize. The arrogant self-assurance he had armor plated himself in crumbled away, leaving him desperately uncertain about who he really was under all those sins and failures laid bare. For the first time in his life he wondered if perhaps Emily's parents were right about him all along.
A soft hand stroked his face as George leaned in close, his warm breath raising the hairs on Jacob's clammy neck.
"Well done, brother. You have endured the rite of purification with humbling dignity. The Father will be most pleased with your commitment."
As George helped Jacob to his feet, he turned to find Emily huddled nearby, her eyes glassy and unfocused. Her white dress, now thoroughly transparent, clung to her curves in shredded remnants of lace. Even from a distance, Jacob could see the contours of her body through the sheer fabric, her form exposed and vulnerable for anyone to see.
His gaze shot toward George, a silent accusation burning in his stare. But the older man's face was serene, seemingly oblivious to having done anything wrong.
"The females undergo a more...intensive ritual," George explained calmly. "Our sisters must seek the depths of their divine feminine energy if they are to earn the Father's favor. A process not meant for male eyes or understanding. I assure you, no harm has come to her. In fact, she reacted quite positively." George's pervasive smile sent chills up Jacob's spine as he tried to understand what exactly that meant.
Emily didn't react or speak, her thousand-yard stare and shallow breathing suggesting she was mentally adrift, locked in a zone of disassociation.
Jacob ached to run to her, to hold her in his arms and whisk them away from this depraved place. But the cloaked men had closed ranks, eyes glinting from the shadows of their hoods like feral dogs cornering their prey.
Pushing back the dark tide of rage and helplessness, Jacob forced himself to hold his tongue. For now, all he could do was endure whatever fresh Hell this island delivered. He would find a way to reach Emily and break her from this trance. Even if it meant risking his own life in the process.
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Jacob tossed and turned on the thin mattress, sleep eluding him as doubts and worries about their situation on Holy Isle swirled through his mind. When morning finally came, he was jolted awake by the relentless blare of a horn.
Harsh sunlight filtered through the grimy windows, catching dust motes swirling through the cramped bunkhouse Jacob now called home. The other bunks were empty, his roommates already roused and departed for their daily activities.
Jacob threw off his musty blanket, squinting in the bright rays. He still wore the rough brown uniform from yesterday, the fabric chafing skin rubbed raw from being submerged and violently dunked for what felt like hours.
With a groan, Jacob swung his legs off the bunk and shoved his feet into the scuffed leather boots, grimacing at their stiffness. He'd need to soak them later if he planned on marching any significant distance today without destroying his heels.
As if on cue, a sharp rapping came at Jacob's door, causing him to start. "Brother Jacob!" The muffled voice carried a tone of impatient authority. "You're overdue in the fields. There is a bowl of oatmeal waiting for you at the dining pavilion. I suggest you eat it, you'll need the energy. When you're done, assemble at once in the fields if you hope to earn extra sustenance today!"
Jacob rolled his eyes at the threat, but he knew better than to defy the order. Begrudgingly, he snatched up his wide-brimmed hat hoping it would offer at least a little protection from the blistering heat of the sun as hurried out, squinting against the bright morning sunlight.. The small compound pathway was already empty, the other men having departed for their daily chores.
Jacob set off at a jog, cursing under his breath. The sooner he jumped through their ridiculous labor hoops, the sooner he could check on Emily and formulate a way out of this waking nightmare. Hopefully, the distance and isolation would help clear the fog of whatever brainwashed stupor had seized her mind.
At the dining pavilion, Jacob found his meager meal- a small wooden bowl containing a paltry portion of oatmeal gruel. The bland, gluey mush held little appeal, but he knew the consequences of turning up to the fields without having eaten. He'd need his strength for what promised to be a long day of manual labor. Pinching his nose, Jacob shoveled it down, feeling the sticky lumps slide down his throat with each labored swallow. When the bowl was finally scraped clean, he cast it aside and started toward the fields, hoping his promptness might prove to Emily that he was following through with his word.
The path curved past a dense shrub line, leading Jacob into a small clearing where over a dozen men were already hard at work, bent at the waist and pulling crops from long rows of neatly tilled soil. The air hung thick and heavy, a wet heat that immediately set Jacob's shirt soaking through with sweat.
An older, wiry man with a high crew cut glared at Jacob as he stumbled toward the workers, raising a callused hand to point at the nearest row.
"Brother Jacob, you're late!" The man's fiery eyes glared into Jacob's very soul, daring him to get out of line. "Fall into a column and get digging. I expect this entire field to be cleared by lunch if you expect another meal."
Jacob swallowed hard, suppressing the urge to snap back. With a curt nod, he hurried toward the rich, brown furrows and knelt, digging his fingers into the welcoming earth. Sweat soon beaded on his brow as another voice cut through the grunts and groans of exertion.
"Well, well, if it isn't the greenhorn stumbling in late."
