Beyond the unescapable end.
Now my faith was turning on its head. Because of the way Bastian looked at me. Because of the stories he told. Because of the way he wrapped his arms around me, kissing me like I was all he believed in.
I had started to question the very things I had accepted without doubt for so long. Pastor’s word was no longer infallible.
Simply because ofhim.
I tiptoed toward oblivion.
“Sara Bishop, what are you doing?” Mom gripped my upper arm and shook me. I didn’t try to wrench free. I let her fingers dig into my flesh, bruising me.
“We weren’t doinganything, Mom,” I said weakly.
Liar.
“Temptation of the flesh will ruin you, Sara! It will lead you down a path you can’t come back from.” She squeezed my chin between her fingers. Pinching me. “I thought you were smarter than that. More faithful. What would Pastor Carter say?”
My face paled. “Please don’t tell him. There’s nothingtotell, I promise.” I found myself collapsing. Shrinking into that little girl, terrified of her mother’s erratic moods.
“You must stay pure of heart and soul, Sara. It’s integral to the next step of your journey.” The way my mother spoke I knew that Pastor Carter had told her.
Of course he had. She was an elder. He told her most things. But this…I had hoped she’d save me. Just this once.
Yet I didn’t see anything but blind faith in her eyes. This was a woman who would never, ever fight for me. And I was terrified that was way past fighting for myself.
“Pastor wants me to marry,” I whispered hoarsely.
I bowed my head. Demure and non-threatening. I was devout and compliant. I would do as was dictated by Pastor. By the elders. By God.
“And you will do as he bids. You will bare your soul to him. He is the embodiment of holiness. He knows what’s best for all of us. You won’t argue. You won’t fight. You will be the dutiful disciple. You’ve learned your place,” Mom hissed, her rage inherent in every syllable. In every demand. “Do you understand what I’m telling you? I will put you in The Refuge myself. I will lock the door and throw away the key.” Her threats made me tremble. I knew she meant it.
There was a crack in the foundation of trust Pastor Carter had built. A fine tremor that shook the entire world he created.
I was eighteen years old.
And my life was not my own.
I had been raised to believe that it never would be.
Because The Gathering of the Sun gobbled it up and kept it from me.
“I know, Mom,” was all I said. I wouldn’t look at her.
Her fury made me weak.
She let go of my arm but her fingers twisted my chin, pulling my face upwards so I was forced to look at her. “Don’t shame me, Sara.”
I shook my head and was relieved when she finally moved away. She opened the door, ready to go out, I went to follow her, but she stopped me. A hand on my chest, she held me back.
“You stay here. I’ll tell Pastor you’re in prayer.”
“But I haven’t eaten. And I’m supposed to serve dinner—”
“You need to read the scriptures. You need to pray. That is your priority.” She pulled the key from her pocket. She was going to lock me inside.
It wasn’t The Refuge, but in some ways, it was worse.
My home would be my prison.
