Say nothing, Grace, Bobbie said. You’ll only make things worse. It’s out of your control now.

So I said nothing.

“The ceremony will be held at dusk,” Rose said. “Under the eyes of the council, Grace and Julianna will learn to fear God.”

THEY CAME FOR ME AGAIN AN HOUR BEFORE SUNSET. This time Tanner and Marshall instructed me to strip. They doused me in freezing water and dressed me in a thin, coarse gown with sleeves that stopped at my elbows and a hem that skimmed the tops of my feet. I was filled with embarrassment and shame. These were men I knew. Men I had grown up with.

They led me out into the freezing evening air to the northern perimeter. The council was already there, as well as my brother, all standing beside Rose, eyes fixed forward. They’d erected a tall wooden frame—two thick round poles topped by a heavy crossbeam—just inside the perimeter. The frame was stabilized by weighted sandbags. Hanging from the top beam were two thick ropes, ending about five feet from the ground.

Red ropes.

It looked like they’d built the whole thing just for me and my mother.

Claude stood by the right post. He was holding something, but I couldn’t see what. I was shivering in the wet gown, but fear of pain pushed the cold away.

“Leave her there, Tanner,” Rose instructed with a nod. He stopped me five paces from her. Their eyes shifted to my right, and I looked to see my mother being steered toward me, dressed in a similar gown.

A chill washed down my back. The reality of our predicament was almost too much for me to bear. This was my doing. All of it! I should never have gone beyond the red rope!

My mother saw me and her face softened. She looked tired, eyes swollen, skin pale. Then she was beside me, facing the council.

“Mother, I—” I whispered.

“No, sweetheart.”

“Silence!” Rose turned to face the council. “Tonight we witness the first cleansing ceremony, a measure put into place to correct the most dire offenses. For those gathered, let us remember the great cost of betraying the Christian faith and the pain it inflicts on those we love.”

She faced my mother and me. “Let the wounds you receive tonight and the scars they leave remind you of God’s wrath. May they instill in you forevermore a fear of straying from his righteousness.”

She nodded at someone behind me. “Grace first.”

Strong hands seized my arms and propelled me toward the structure. It was only then, as Claude stepped forward, that I saw what he held. It was a whip made from cord of the same red rope, bound tight at the end like a serpent’s tail.