We’d had the classic college love story: eyes met across the room of some random frat party. She was wearing a pink dress. I was very stupidly wearing a tie. She smiled when she saw me and I instantly fell in love.
She was from a small town abroad and had come to the states to study sustainable engineering to bring back to her home. We eventually moved in together when we both realized we were spending more time together than apart anyway. It was bliss. I’d always known that she wasn’t planning to stay, but I put it out of my mind as often as I could because the idea of her leaving left an aching pain in my chest. It was a random Tuesday when I realized I’d follow her anywhere and we were engaged the next day.
It was important to her that I visit her home before we did the wedding. We boarded the flight on the first day of our last Spring Break before graduation. I remember her being nervous. She fidgeted the whole flight through, methodically tearing the small napkin that came with our in-flight coffee. I grasped her hand and smiled, silently assuring her that it would be okay. She smiled back weakly. Looking back now, I should’ve known that something was wrong.
“We have customs that are slightly different than what you are used to, I think,” she explained to me on the plane. “It is a very small community, but very safe. Very, very safe. It is the only place I would feel comfortable raising my children.”
I didn’t see it then.
We rented a car at the airport and began our drive to her town. The countryside was beautiful and I never felt more reassured about my decision. I couldn’t wait to see the place we’d raise our children together. The place we’d grow old together. Our future.
I pulled up to a small cottage, the second in a long row of them. They were all varying shades of pastels: blues, pinks, greens. It was something out of a fairytale. Her mum was gardening in the front when I pulled the car in. She was a tall woman with graying hair but a kind smile. The future gran to our children. I wondered if my fiancee would grow older to look like her one day.
“Michael,” she said, wiping soil off her pants as we got out of the car. “It is so wonderful to meet you. We’ve heard so much from our darling girl!”
“I’ve heard so much about you as well!” I replied though it occurred to me that my fiancee hadn’t actually said much about her family. I put it in the back of my head.
“Well, they should be here soon. We’ll wait for them in front, shall we?” she asked.
“Oh, uh, actually would it be okay if I used your bathroom? It’s been a long drive.”
She and my fiancee exchanged a quick look.
“Actually, it would be best if we wait,” she replied.
I nodded, too afraid of a bad first impression to protest. I really did have to use the bathroom. I started as I saw a group of about 10-12 men walking down the walk in front of the homes. They appeared to be coming to speak with us. It was quite the welcoming party.
The man in front approached us first.
“Michael?” he asked, eyeing me.
“Oh, yes, hello,” I said and proffered a hand for a handshake.
He ignored my hand and I awkwardly put it back to my side.
“Yes, well then, come with us.”
Even then I didn’t see it.
“Oh, well, alright,” I said, looking to my fiancee for reassurance.
She did not meet my eyes.
I followed them down the row of homes. The air was heavy and smelled strongly of the herbs growing in the gardens beside us. Rosemary, maybe. None of the men acknowledged me as they walked on either side. They weren’t close enough to brush against me, but close enough to impede my way. Finally, we arrived at our destination: a small, squat building on what appeared to be the edge of town.
Quicker than I’d expected, they managed to shuffle me inside and lock the door. The man who spoke to me earlier spoke again through a small metal grate in the wall.
“We recognize that you have been vouched for, however, we must take steps to ensure a safe community. You will wait here until your trial begins. Three daily meals with water will be provided for you. Please take this time to prepare your case.”
The grate closed.
“My trial is tomorrow,” came a small voice from the corner.
I whipped around, shocked I hadn’t noticed her before. A small woman, maybe aged forty years or so, was sitting on a bench against the back wall. She had dishwater brown hair and was wearing clothes that looked like she’d had them on for a while. A green pair of pants and a light brown sweater that looked stiff with age.
“What trial?” I asked, still confused.
“I met him online. Thought I’d get back in the game, I guess,” she smiled sarcastically at that. “We spent months talking and I really did think I was in love. We were going to get married, but he wanted me to come to meet his family first. Family was very important to him, he’d said. Of course, he didn’t warn me about anything. They carted me off the second we entered the town. Did they tell you how they keep such a safe community?”
I shook my head.
“It’s a trial system. Guilty until proven innocent. Any outsiders undergo a trial to prove they’re a good person before they’re released into the community,” she said. “They haven’t told me anything except that they’ll hear me tomorrow. I’ve been here a week so far.”
I slid down the wall, the weight of the situation finally sinking in.
“My fiancee didn’t say anything about this,” I said, dumbfounded.
“Nah, they wouldn’t, would they? Don’t want to give you an unfair advantage.”
I was tired enough that I eventually slipped into an uneasy sleep. When I awoke the next day I saw that my companion had vanished. I wondered how her trial was going. Someone had placed something like oatmeal in the room. I assumed it was for me and ate it ravenously. There was no seasoning, but it filled me up. The day passed by, glacially slow. When she did not return in the evening, I realized I didn’t get to ask her what she had prepared for her trial.
I still didn’t see it at this point.
It must’ve been the middle of the night when they came for me. Flashlights shone through the metal grate and hushed voices awakened me. Several rough hands grabbed me and led me through the streets. It was deathly quiet. I was deposited into another small cottage, similar to my fiancee’s but not brightly colored. Instead, it was a dull gray.
The sudden brightness of the lights shocked me and I was pushed to my knees inside. The floor wasn’t tiled as I’d expected, but rather packed dirt. A booming voice rang out.
“You have been presented for trial in order to join this community. We have found no history to suggest that you are a harm to this community and you have been vouched for by one of our own.”
The voice paused.
“However, that is still no reassurance. We have instead supplied a test in order for you to prove your morality.”
I looked up, shielding my eyes against the bright lights. A test?
Then I saw the woman from the room kneeling on the dirt in front of me. She was quietly sobbing, her face pressed into the dirt. My fiancee and her family stood off to the side. A young man stood alone on the other side. He was crying as well.
realized that the booming voice was coming from the man more directly in front of me. He continued once he had my eye contact.
“We have given her a fair trial and she was not able to prove her morality. We have found evidence that she is a foul woman who has wronged many before us. We will not allow her into our village to poison us as well. However,” he paused. “We are not heartless people though we keep to ourselves. We will do a kindness to the outside world and not allow her into their presence as well.”
Then I saw it.
The man with the booming voice held a sledgehammer loosely at his side. He looked at me.
“We will allow you to prove your morality by providing both a goodness to our village and to your own outside world,” he said as he handed me the sledgehammer.
I felt warmth running down my leg.
The woman looked up at me then, her face dusty from the floor. I could see streams cut down her cheek from her tears. I looked at my fiancee who appeared to be eagerly watching the woman in front of us. I looked at the sledgehammer in my hand.
Her head made a sickly cracking sound as I brought the sledgehammer down on her. I felt warmth all over my body now. Her blood mixed with the sweat streaming down my face. There was vomit on the front of my shirt. My legs were damp with urine. I’d never feel dry again. I’d never feel clean again.
There is a village in a different country that thinks I am an upstanding, moral person. I am welcome back at any time they assured me as I left the village the next morning.
I was a good person. I do think that I was, before this.
I know now that I’m not anymore.