Sacrificial Love
The view of the water on the island was always an incredible sight, with clear crystal blue waves eagerly dancing at the shoreline. Paired up with the white sand and the emerald green treeline behind it, you definitely felt lucky to live there. It was something I was going to deeply miss, but not as much as I was going to miss the view of her. The warmth of her body leaned against mine as we lounged on the sand was something I never wanted to part with.
We knew there was a possibility that this day would come, but there is always hope in your heart that it will never be you that’s chosen, you know? And as I stared into Armina’s eyes as her dark brown curls shifted in the wind, I wished so badly that the announcement had all been a dream, that my name being chosen had all been a figment of my imagination, and that I could stay in this moment with her for eternity. But we both knew that wasn’t the case, so when tears began to fall down her face, I pulled her in my arms and cried along with her. We stayed like that for a few minutes before she broke the silence.
“What if we ran?” she asked.
“Why would we do that?” I asked back, genuinely confused.
“Why would we stay?” she returned, aggravation appearing in her voice. “What have the Gods done for us that deserves something so dire?”
“And what do you think they’ll do if I don’t do this? Do you honestly think it’ll get any better?”
“How can it get worse, Serban?” she asked, pleading with me, “Famine, sickness, and death roam our streets. Do they really deserve a sacrifice, especially one as grand as you?”
“There will be even more death if I don’t do this,” I explained. “What if the next death is you, or your family?”
“You are my family, and I can’t bear to be without you anyway.”
Anger boils up inside of me at the fearful thought of her ending her life. “Don’t you dare talk like that!” I roar at her. She cowered away, and suddenly I felt ashamed that I yelled at her. I slowly approached her and gently took her into my arms. “I’m sorry I yelled, but you have to promise me you’ll still be here when I’m gone.”
She refused to look at me, her eyes facing the ground, so I moved her chin upwards until her eyes met mine. “You have to promise me that you’ll still be strong for me,” I request. “Please?”
She simply nodded. As she began to cry, I wiped her tears away with both of my thumbs, leaving both of my hands on her cheeks, relishing in the few moments I have left to be able to touch her. The tears began to pool into my hands as I stared into her eyes. I could see more than sadness in her eyes, though. I also saw hurt, and I knew that was something that not only I have caused. I knew our tribe and its ways had also caused it. I could tell she would keep her promise to me to stay alive, seeing as that would be the biggest betrayal that she could ever commit to our love, but I didn’t think she would willingly stay in our village after I was gone. And I didn’t want to stop her because I wanted her to be happy, and I knew she wouldn’t be happy here without me.
-
I wrapped her up in my arms for one final embrace, leaving her with a kiss on the forehead before heading up the stairs to the top of the altar. Our priest painted the symbols on my face with careful strokes. As I opened my eyes once he was done, I noticed the sad look on his face. It was replaced by a look of toughness as soon as he realized I was looking at him, but he couldn’t take back the previous look from my mind.
“You are a very brave young man,” he said before heading to the podium to start the prayer.
After the prayer, there is a ceremonial song and dance they have to perform as a form of entertainment and thankfulness to the gods. At the peak of this performance is when I will have my throat slit, and they will finish dancing once my heart stops beating and my blood has stained both the stones of the altar and the bottoms of their feet. I am led to the spot where I will lay down on the stones by the dancers, all of who make sure to be gentle as they guide me. Their gentle nature is the exact opposite of how the rough stones treat me, already hurting the back of my head and my spine as I lay flat on them. I rub the loose pebbles and dirt covering my place of death as I wait for the performance to begin. My heart is beating so fast in my chest that it feels hard to believe it could ever stop beating.
The beating of the drums begins, making me jump. The song begins with low hums, slowly ascending into higher notes. I try to focus on the beauty of the voices, but I can’t stop thinking about Armina. Her beautiful curls, her chocolate brown eyes, her caramel skin. All the men in our village joked about her being a Goddess among mortals and told me how lucky I was to have a beauty like that. Tears formed in my mind as I remembered her laugh, the way her voice sounded when she was sleepy, and the way she sang to me whenever I was sick. The singing voices slowly morph until my ears hear her voice, and I imagine her singing to me as if this were just another sickness. The distraction calms me some, but I can’t help but picture the tears streaming down her face.
My anxiety spiked up again when I heard the notes getting closer and closer to the peak of the song, and I began to hear slow footsteps approaching. I tried to control my breathing, tried not to panic, and tried to focus on how I was doing this for my people, for my Armina. I close my eyes and picture her beauty once more, imagining wrapping my hands up in her curls and bringing her in for one last kiss. That thought faltered, however, Just before the ritual could be completed, I heard a commotion off to the side. The priest and I looked toward the noise, and I was shocked to see Armina arguing with a dancer. She kept trying to move toward me, but the dancer shoved her back, an act that made me attempt to leap up. The priest and another dancer hold me down, both mumbling something about wanting to keep the sacred ground pure of violence, even though that was kind of ironic considering what was happening on it. I saw Armina begin to get dragged away, and I felt a deep longing in my heart to run to her.
She began to wail very loudly, tearfully screaming for me to be let go. The drummers beat louder on their instruments as a means to drown her out, but they didn’t manage to block out the most important thing she had to say.
“He’s not a virgin!” she screamed, voice cracking. “I’m pregnant!”
