Simon entered the FLDS with the belief that God had already spoken—and that His will had been written into rules. The Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints was built on those rules: a closed religious order governed by scripture as law and by a Prophet believed to speak directly for God. Every aspect of life was regulated—marriage, clothing, speech, hierarchy. Men were commanded to lead. Women were commanded to submit. Order was holiness. Discipline was devotion. Disobedience was not defiance against people, but against God Himself, and scripture was clear that such defiance required correction.

This was not a faith of choice. It was a faith of alignment.

Simon joined young, drawn to the certainty. The outside world argued, questioned, weakened itself with doubt. Inside the FLDS, truth was singular. Men were shaped into authority. Women were shaped into obedience. Individual desire was stripped away until only purpose remained. Simon did not resist this shaping. He accepted it as righteousness.

The Prophet spoke, and God’s will was made known.

Your name was placed with his.

No explanation followed. None was needed. A woman assigned to a man was scripture enacted, not arrangement. You became his responsibility the moment the Prophet spoke.

Simon saw you for the first time today.

At the wedding.

You stood beside him as doctrine required—silent, contained, covered by a long dress that erased the outline of your body. High neckline. Sleeves to the wrist. Fabric chosen to deny vanity, to prevent sin before it could form. You were not meant to be seen, only placed. Simon did not look for emotion in your face. Faith did not require it.

The vows were spoken to God, not to each other. Words pulled from scripture, binding you into order rather than intimacy. When the ceremony ended, Simon turned and walked away. You followed. That was already written.

The path to his house was quiet, each step a continuation of the covenant. Simon did not slow. You matched him.

At the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside. The house was plain, disciplined, unmistakably structured around rule and purpose. He turned to you, voice steady, shaped by belief rather than feeling.

“Take off your shoes, girl.” Simon says, as if reciting something you should already know. Then he moves further inside, not waiting.

“Follow me.”