And all of them had been married at least once before. All of them had lost their wives to childbirth. Each one intended to do the exact same with me, so was it really shocking that I wanted nothing to do with the entire ordeal?

When I whined about my predicament for the third day in a row, Callah couldn't take it anymore. "Why don't you go claim your inheritance from your mother?" she suggested. "If nothing else, it's something that's just for you, and maybe it'll take your mind off the rest of this?"

She had a point. A good one. So that evening, I left my room and headed towards the men's side of the compound, making sure to keep my head down and a gentle smile on my lips. That way, I wouldn't offend anyone when I passed them. A few men gave me strange looks, but none followed me. When I finally reached the Elder's hall, I headed towards the third door on the left, then knocked lightly.

It took a moment before there was a response. Nervously, I shifted on my feet, waiting as patiently as I could. When the door finally cracked, the old man on the other side was almost a stranger. He looked familiar, but it had been years since I'd seen him last. Peering at me with failing eyes, he grunted before opening the door a little wider. Only then did I bother to lift my head.

"Father," I said politely. "In case you weren't aware, I turn twenty soon. I came to see if I can claim the last of my mother's things?"

Those words were enough to make him step back and invite me in. "Who escorted you here, girl?"

"I walked by myself."

He sighed heavily. "Your mother's influence runs too deep." But he still turned to the far side of the room, walking away without inviting me to join him.

So I waited. With my hands clasped politely before me, I forced myself to be patient even while he rummaged through his shelves. The old man sighed a few times, then grumbled words too soft for me to make out. Eventually, he found a mesh box and pulled it down. His body sagged against the weight, and he huffed like it was some kind of great burden, but I had a feeling his age was most of the problem.

My father had to be well into his eighties, if not even ninety. While he was still considered one of the Elders, he no longer had any involvement in the running of the compound. Instead, he'd chosen an apprentice to replace him on the council when he passed. Sadly, it wasn't one of his many sons.

"Okay," he told me, waving me over. "This is all she left. You may take two things, just like your older brother did. Your other brother will do the same when he comes of age. When your youngest sister finally turns twenty, we'll divvy out anything left over, so choose wisely…" He trailed off like he was trying to remember something. Most likely my name.

"Ayla," I reminded him.

He made a sound like he knew that, but I wasn't completely convinced. Still, I hadn't come here for him. My father had never had much to do with my life - except the making of it - but my mother had certainly tried. Tiesha had loved all of her children with everything in her heart, right up until we'd grown too old to stay with her. I could still remember how hard I'd fought when the matrons had come to take me away. I'd screamed like a wild woman until even my mother had told me to hush and go with them. I'd been barely six years old.

Now, I couldn't help but fear that the Devil inside my mother had shifted into me. Tiesha had been locked away because of it. Her delusional ramblings were too dangerous for others to hear. When I'd been little, my father had said my mother might fight off the darkness one day, but she never had. After me, my little brother had been born and raised, and then my sister had come next, but the last baby had been one too many.

That fateful night, the matron had come to my room to tell me God had called my mother and her final child to Heaven. The funeral had been held the very next day, and only Tiesha's immediate family - and the Council of Elders - had been allowed to attend. The proper words had been said, and the rights had been given to unlock the kingdom of Heaven. Somehow, it hadn't made me feel any better.

I'd been eleven.

This box of trinkets was all that was left of my mother. Letting out a heavy breath, I reached inside, examining each one of the items. I didn't want to be greedy, but my younger brother would want little from a woman. My sister might, if the girl could even remember that far back. She hadn't even been three when our mother had passed, but it was possible she still had memories of her.

One thing immediately caught my eye. There, nestled at the bottom, was the strange necklace my mother had always worn. The string was frayed and rotten, but the metal piece hanging from it was the same as I remembered. Sure, the yellow metal had tarnished over time, but Tiesha had worn it nestled between her breasts. So many times, I had toyed with it while my mother told me the strangest tales: stories of wondrous things and wild fantasies. I was convinced those days were where I'd gotten my love of forbidden stories.

It made me wonder if my mother had also found the library back when she was a child. So many of her words had touched on the pictures inside. Others had been vastly different, but those tales all held so much hope. It was as if Tiesha had actually believed that one day she'd finally reach the mystical realm she'd imagined. Not Heaven, but this world she'd given a beautiful name. Lora, or something like that.

I claimed the necklace, and then searched for a second item. The whole time, my father hovered beside me. His presence made it clear he wanted me done and gone. The sound of his labored breathing made me feel like I was suffocating along with him. The man was nearly dead, although that didn't bother me at all. He was also mostly a stranger. When he finally died, I wouldn't even miss him.

Soon, I'd turn twenty, and he'd no longer have a say in my life. I'd be a grown woman, and him? He'd just be another man on the Council, deciding where my pedigree fit best. We might be related, but we weren't close at all. Too bad there wasn't some token in this box to remind me of him. Some item which would serve as a warning. Instead, I fished out some scraps of paper, opening each to see if any of them made sense.

A folded yellowed page revealed a crude drawing. It was made with the frantic strokes of my mother's hands. The scene looked like something straight from the Bible, maybe even Eden. Considering there was nothing else of value, I decided to claim it for my second item, then announced both of my choices to my father. He took the items from me, looked at each one, then handed them back.

With one last grunt, the old man lifted his arm to the door. It was a very clear dismissal, but he didn't say a single thing. I wondered if he'd forgotten my name again, but decided I didn't actually care to know. I had what I'd come for. Everything else was decaying and worthless, including him.

"Go straight to your room," my father ordered as I walked out. "It's too late for a proper woman to be out and about."

"I will, Father," I promised.

But I wouldn't. I had one more place I wanted to go while I was still a child. Next week, this trip would be cause for punishment. Tonight, I could blame nostalgia and claim my age as an excuse for leniency.

The trick to going where I wanted in the compound was to pretend I was supposed to be there. It was considered impolite to be nosy, and scandalous to gossip. A proper woman would mind her own business and attend to only her husband's affairs. The first week I'd lived in my own room, I'd realized that meant it was rude to ask what I was doing. So long as I was merely out of place but looked determined, the adults would assume I'd been sent on a mission.

So I turned my feet to the darkest areas. The compound was massive, but the number of Righteous had fallen with each generation. Long ago, many thousands of people had lived here. Now, most of the halls had fallen into disuse. The Elders warned it was proof of the Devil's power. Weakness of spirit let his evil in to destroy a man from the inside out.

Women were even easier to corrupt, they said. That was why so many women were locked away in quarantine, yet no one had ever been able to explain why these women looked different. Their eyes were usually brown instead of blue. Their hair was often darker. As a child, I'd seen one lady who had hair the color of night. Her children had been born with red curls, darker than even Callah's, and nothing like the more common smooth, blonde hair everyone else had in the compound.

I was thinking about that as I made my way up the last hall. At the end, as far away from the rest of the compound as it was possible to get, sat an older woman. She had a book in her lap, and from the way the pages were laid out, I knew it was the Bible. The matron lifted her head with a tired and weary look, then narrowed her eyes.

"What do you want, child?"

I licked my lips nervously. "Is there any way I can have one last look at Tiesha's old room?" I asked.

The matron looked me over again. "You're the older girl, aren't you? The Ross child?"

"Yes, ma'am. I turn twenty next week. I wanted to put the last of my memories to rest."

"Mm." With a snap, the woman closed her book. "Have no fears, child. Her problems won't pass to you."

Before I could stop myself, the next words fell out. "Are you sure?" Because I was starting to wonder if they already had.

"Pray, child. Lucky for you, her room is still open. I'll let you see it so you can give your mother's soul one last thought and pray her corruption won't flow in your veins." She turned to the heavy metal door and entered a code.

I couldn't help myself. I knew there had once been numbers on the pad, and as a child, I'd spent too much time looking at it, waiting for someone to press the right keys. Back then, I'd been too short to do it myself, but what if the code had changed? While I watched, the old woman pressed out 4-4-6-3, and proved it hadn't.

The lock released with a heavy thunk, and the metal slab swung out slightly. The matron pulled it open far enough for both of us to pass through, and then followed me. That worked out, though. There would be no way to find the right room without help. It had been far too long, and the hall was lined with dozens upon dozens of doors.

Each one had a small window in the front. From some came the sounds of women moving around. As we passed another, I heard the occupant talking to herself - or maybe a child. Down at the far end of the hall, a baby wailed.

Inside most of them, it was dark. Always dark, unless they had a visitor or a child to raise. After all, the Righteous weren't willing to risk the lives of their children - we were God's gift and meant to be treasured. Only a few rooms were lit, though. I knew that interspersed between them were empty rooms, spacing the possessed far enough apart so the Devil wouldn't reinfect those nearly cured.

At a random door in the middle, the old woman pulled out a key and unlocked it. She made no move to open the heavy door. I had to do that for myself. However, the matron was kind enough to press a button on the outside, turning on a very faint light. Then she simply leaned back to rest her weight against the wall while I was allowed to go in.

Clearly, I might have the right to do this, but that didn't mean I was trusted. Not that the room was large enough to do anything in. Along one side, in sight of the door, was the bed. It was hard and narrow, just like where I slept now. Beside that was a small desk, the surface barely big enough to hold a Bible - and little else. In the corner was a single metal chair.

So many times, I'd shared that chair with my mother. Tiesha would sit there and I would curl up in her lap, held tight in her arms. Those were the few happy memories I had. Alone together, we'd shared secret words and made up entirely new lives. Back then, I'd thought it was enough. Now, kneeling before the seat, I pressed my head to it and clasped my hands before me, the necklace and folded drawing cradled between them.

I didn't pray.

Soon, I would be the mother, and I hoped I could give my own child just as much love. We'd had a measly six years together, but it had been the only comfort I'd ever known, and I needed that right now. Some hope that my life wouldn't always be filled with such misery, because if this was all we got, then was there really any point? What was the purpose of making me suffer merely to prove I was good? And if there was a point, why didn't God simply tell us what we had to do?

If there wasn't, then why did I have to marry a man I didn't want? Why couldn't I spend my time locked away with books, waiting for the world above to be ready for God's children to return to it? Why couldn't I make my own decisions about my husband, decide when it was best to have my own children, and take my time getting ready for it?

Most of all, why wasn't I given any choice in my own life? Why weren't any of us?

NineAyla

My birthday came and went. With it were the offers of marriage. I tried to choose, I really did. Callah and I debated each and every man in the darkness of our room every night, finding no reasons for me to choose any over the others. They all were atrocious!