Outlaw by Ted Dekker Read Free Book Online Page A

purack .”
    She motioned for me to remove my blouse. When I stared back, unsure, she repeated the man’s order.
    “Bo purack.”
    To say that I was not given to public displays of nudity would be to grossly understate my disposition at the time. Even in the face of terrible danger, human pride is not easily sacrificed, at least not among those with refined character. Being made to disrobe in front of them suddenly struck me as inhumane.
    The man mumbled a short word and spat into the fire. When I still did not move, the woman stepped up and began to pry at the buttons on my blouse.
    I hated myself in that moment. I hated that I stood trembling with neither the strength nor the resolve to resist. I hated being forced to disrobe.
    It’s strange how the simplest things, like nakedness, can be so debilitating. How the fear of being seen for what she really is can render a person so powerless. We humans protect what is ours to the bitter end, and when it’s forcibly taken from us, we no longer feel human. This is an absurdity.
    Even so, I was given a small gift in the hut. The woman trying to undress me was as unfamiliar with buttons as I was with public nakedness. Before she or the man resorted to more strenuous means, I made the decision to help her. I would undress for them, of my own free will.
    Pushing back my anxiety, I lifted my hands and unbuttoned my blouse for her. She slipped my shirt off, then stepped back and stared at my bra, blinking.
    The man’s eyes settled on my chest. It was as if neither of them could quite believe that I was encased in yet another layer of protection.
    I was too dense at the time to realize that their curiosity was motivated by incomprehension as to why any woman would want to hide her femininity and perhaps be mistaken for a man. In their eyes I was not unlike a cross-dresser. An outer garment was bad enough—surely they’d seen Western clothing before. But from their expressions I gathered that they’d never seen a bra.
    For several long moments, neither seemed to know what to think of it.
    The woman reached out and plucked my shoulder strap. Then she pulled one of the bra’s cups aside to make sure it wasn’t attached to my flesh.
    She giggled and turned to the man, who shared none of her amusement. He mumbled something that elicited a high-pitched diatribe and unbelieving scoffs from the woman. The man let her rave for several seconds, then cut her off with a single word.
    She nodded and waved her arms at me, motioning me to take it off. “ Bo purack .”
    Needing no further encouragement, I quickly removed my bra and handed it to the woman, who examined it carefully. When she motioned to me to keep going, I took off my shoes and pants.
    I stood naked except for my underwear, once yellow, now brown. They continued to stare at me. Once again the woman broke into an amused diatribe. Once again the man silenced her.
    The man shoved his chin at me. “ Peked .”
    She began to inspect me as if I were something from the market. Without any regard for whether I might care, she examined my hair and my scalp. She pulled open my lips and flicked my teeth, then peered into my mouth. At this both of them mumbled in amazement.
    Satisfied, she moved on to a cursory examination of the rest of my body. There was no mistaking the matter: I was not her equal. I was her lesser, her slave.
    In a strange way the realization gave me strength as she examined my belly, my thighs, my toes. When she’d finished, the man stepped forward and gently squeezed my mouth open again. He stared at my teeth for a few seconds, then grunted and stepped back. It was my teeth that impressed him the most. In fact, he seemed interested in nothing but my teeth.
    Then he released my face, spit one last time into the fire, mumbled something to the woman, and left the hut.
    I could not know it at the time, but I had just been touched by one of the three most powerful men in the Tulim valley, and he’d left me unscathed.