After days of starvation and taking fifteen lashes, I couldn’t hold on any longer and passed out.
Three days ago, I went out with my best friend, Viola Louis.
Someone behind us tripped and, in their panic, accidentally pulled off my veil.
Viola tried to help me, but her veil slipped off too. It all happened so fast.
And just like that, Viola and I were unmasked in front of everyone.
My first thought? We’re doomed.
The second? Panic. I looked at Viola, desperate and frantic.
“Viola, under no circumstances can we admit we messed up, got it?” I said.
In this country, the law is clear: from the time she’s three years old, a woman’s face is only for her family and husband to see. If any other man catches a glimpse, she’s deemed impure and can be drowned in the spit of the crowd.
This barbaric custom has been around for over two centuries, taking countless women’s lives. Even women in their forties or fifties have been killed simply because a man saw their face.
When this happens, a woman has two possible fates.
The first is to confess. She must write a ten-thousand-word apology and then be taken to the public square to end her own life in front of everyone. Most women choose this path because it allows them to hold onto a shred of dignity, and after their death, they’re praised as "loyal and virtuous."
The second option is to refuse to admit guilt. These women cling to the hope of survival, refusing to accept death so easily. If they’re lucky, their family will help them escape to start a new life elsewhere. If they’re not, they might be beaten to death by their own kin, their body left outside to be spat on by passersby.
According to the law, anyone who tries to bury her will be thrown in jail.
*****
I woke up in my room, weak and unable to move.
My maid, Wendy, was crying beside me. “Miss, you’re awake! I thought I’d lost you.”
I was shocked. Where is everyone? I asked, “Wendy, where’s my father and the others?”
“Mr. Andrew and Mr. Ronald went to the palace. Don’t worry, they’ll figure something out,” she said.
I forced a bitter smile. How could they possibly change laws and traditions that have been in place for over two hundred years?
I grabbed Wendy’s hand and asked, “What about Viola? Is she okay?”
“There’s been no word from the Louis Residence, so Ms. Viola should be fine,” she said.
Thank goodness...