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authorities began investigating the group and Albert after a man claiming to be a former member reported Albert for assault after being pelted with rocks and publically shamed.
    Upon searching the property yesterday an unidentified minor was found being held prisoner in an outbuilding. Sources say the fifteen-year-old girl had been beaten and left in the shed for days with no food, water, or medical attention. She was rushed to a nearby hospital for treatment of severe infection and malnutrition.
    Albert and six others were arrested in conjunction with the girl’s beating, as was her mother, thirty-four year old Leah Roberts. Other members of the community were held for questioning, but have been released pending a full investigation.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
    ALAINA
     
    “Alaina?”
    I look up from folding my blanket. One of the nurses is standing in my hospital room doorway with Ms. Jackson, the lady who calls herself a social worker. Ms. Jackson’s hair is so red I can’t help but stare at it. The first time I met her, a week ago, I asked her if she washed it in strawberry juice. I think it annoyed her. She reminds me of an owl in an obscene red wig; a small sharp nose and huge brown eyes magnified by her round-framed glasses.
    “Someone’s here to see you,” Ms. Jackson says, smiling.
    My heart leaps. “Mother?” Please let it be Mother!
    “No, sweetie. But someone who knows your mother.”
    She steps aside and a woman with long, wavy blonde hair, a long, straight nose, and familiar brown eyes stands there.
    I squint at the woman. She looks almost exactly like Mother. Except this woman is wearing feather earrings, a necklace that hangs to the middle of her chest, and a long blue and green dress with thin straps where the sleeves should be.
    She smiles at me. “Hello. I’m Beth.” Her eyes skim the dark bruises on my face and the cut on my jaw where the whip caught me after I passed out during the flogging. She brings her hand to her heart, fingering the purple stone that hangs there. “Bless your heart,” she whispers.
    The nurse pats Ms. Jackson’s arm. “I’ll leave y’all to it. Call if you need anything.”
    Beth steps into the room with Ms. Jackson as the nurse scoots back into the hallway, closing the door behind her.
    “How are you feeling?” Ms. Jackson asks, settling on the little couch near the window. She sets her handbag beside her and stares at me, blinking occasionally.
    “Better,” I say. The cuts on my back have started to itch since the infection cleared up. They tell me that’s normal, though. I’ll never forget the pain I went through my first few days here, or those dark moments of consciousness in the shed.
    Beth perches on the edge of a chair near the door.
    “Good,” Ms. Jackson says, pulling a folder out of her handbag. “They tell me you’re ready to go.”
    I nod, though she isn’t looking at me anymore. She’s shuffling through some paperwork.
    “You remember what we discussed? About not going back to the community?” She continues shuffling.
    Glancing at Beth, I nod again. “Yes.” I still don’t quite understand it though. Ms. Jackson has tried to explain but it doesn’t make much sense. Something about some man named William Albert.
    “Here it is,” she says, pulling a sheet of paper out of her stack. She looks up at me. “Instead of going back to the community, you’re going to stay with Beth and her daughter for a while.”
    My eyes dart to Beth again, but I don’t say anything. I try not to speak to sinners if I can help it. Sure, they’re all nice enough, but I’ve learned my lesson. Looks can be deceiving. The devil can take many forms, even transforming himself into an angel of light, as 2 Corinthians 11:14 says.
    “Beth is your mother’s sister. Your aunt.” Ms. Jackson says this like it’s some great gift that I should be thanking her for.
    “Oh.” That makes sense.
    Ms. Jackson’s eyes dart between Beth and