So, while David prayed—brainwashed is more like it—I was put to work. Carefully planned, monitored work. At least it kept me busy. Otherwise I’d lose my mind worrying about David.
Worrying about Sara.
I had felt the scar on her wrist. Deep down, I knew what that meant. I hadn’t asked her about it, because I knew she’d never tell me the truth. She was a woman who had become fluent in the art of denial.
If I was honest with myself, I could see how easy it was to get sucked into the monotony of their life here. Routine was dangerous in a place like this. It made you complacent. Overly accepting. The remoteness erased any thought of what life was like elsewhere. And I watched as David lost more and more of himself to these people. To this new life.
Every time he left to meet the leader of The Gathering, I felt a sick dread in my stomach. Instinct warned me that there was something malicious lurking beneath the façade of placid calm the people at The Retreat sought to create.
I just couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was.
And I sure as hell didn’t trust Pastor Carter.
There was something dishonest about him. Like a used car salesman, he was smooth with a hint of sleaze. I had no doubt he was a man that wore two faces. His words were clearly weapons of manipulation. No one dared say anything against him. If they questioned his teachings, they never said so out loud. He was their leader. Their fuckingGod.
He held immeasurable power over the people he had chosen to surround himself with. And my brother was now one of them.
It ripped my heart out.
The longer we stayed, the more entrenched David became. He swallowed their delusions and accepted them as truth. Just like everyone else.
They were zombies, following the apocalyptic ramblings of a crazy man.
Every single one of them was poison.
Well, maybe not all of them.
Anne seemed nice enough.
And Sara…
She was different.
I knew that deep down.
I was beginning to see that she too saw what was happening around her, but, for whatever reason, couldn’t escape.
I wanted to help her. I knew now, particularly after our day at the waterfall, that leaving her behind wasn’t an option.
Mom used to joke about my savior complex. My idealism that had me selling lemonade when I was five to raise money for the local animal shelter. My dad would tell me I shouldn’t be so unrealistic. That not everything, noteveryonewas worth saving.
Sara was.
I was sure of it in a way I was sure of very few things.
There was true kindness in her that seemed out of place amongst The Gathering of the Sun. I gravitated towards it in this insidious place. Like a beacon she helped me stay focused.
I had come to care about her. More than I thought possible. I hadn’t planned to kiss her. But damned if I wasn’t glad that I did. Now I thought about kissing her all the time. Of the way her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted. Of the taste of her mouth and the way she sighed when I touched her.
She was beautiful that burned from the inside out. It was more than her face or her unusual eyes. It was the deep down kind of beauty that had nothing to do with appearance.
She opened herself up to me, even if it was with great reluctance. I wanted to do anything to see her smile. To see her, if only for a few minutes, free of the chains The Gathering wrapped around her.
I was falling for her. It was kind of hard not to. She made it incredibly easy. Maybe it was the intensity of this life, or the feeling that we were living on borrowed time, but my emotions for Sara Bishop were magnified beyond anything I had ever felt for anyone before.
If I was the sort to believe in fate, I’d think Sara was mine. That I came to The Retreat not just to save my brother, but to help Sara save herself.
I shook David’s arm, trying to rouse him, but he wouldn’t move. “Come on, man, it’s time for daily whatever. You’re supposed to be praying.”
