I looked up to find Bastian standing at the edge of the woods, the moon at his back. His face was shadowed so I could barely see him. But I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was worried.
I had left Pastor Carter’s house and headed straight for the woods. I had skipped dinner. And now I was missing scripture reading in The Sun Sanctuary.
I was cold. My slippered feet were wet from the dew. Yet I remained. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t make myself resume my routine.
I was way past doing what was expected of me.
Something had shattered inside me. And I didn’t think it would ever be put back together.
My faith was fractured. My devotion had been chiseled away until there was nothing left. I fought to hang onto some piece of it. Some semblance of the girl I had been.
I didn’t know who I was without my belief in The Gathering’s message. Without my fate. Without my calling.
I was scared that if I let that girl disappear there would be nothing left.
“I couldn’t be there. Around people. I just needed…” I trailed off. Not really able to put into words what I needed.
Because I didn’t know.
Not anymore.
“Time alone? Room to breathe?” Bastian filled in.
I sighed. “Yes. All of those things.”
He stood there silently, not saying anything. Respectfully keeping his distance.
I wished he wouldn’t. I wanted him to hug me tighter than Pastor Carter ever could. I wanted him to hold me and convince me that my doubts were founded. That I wouldn’t lose myself.
Then I became angry.
I had to stop leaning on others. I had to find the strength in myself.
I had spent my entire life following a path someone else set for me. I had grown tired of closing my eyes and hoping I wouldn’t fall.
Maybe it was time to keep them open.
I stood up. “I’m supposed to be in The Sun Sanctuary. We both are. You should go.” I wouldn’t be going back to The Retreat. Not yet.
How could I?
The memory of Pastor Carter’s smile when he told me he had chosen me pulsed through my brain. It was tattooed on my consciousness. I couldn’t get rid of it.
“You were made to join me. To walk the path by my side. It’s what God wants. It’s his plan. I’ve heard his words. You must listen to them.”
I wobbled on unsteady feet, hardly able to stand upright.
“I can’t marry you, Pastor. You’re like my father.”
I clenched my hands into fists, wishing I could hit something.
Or someone.
I had never been aggressive. Violence was abhorred. Yet, right then, it would have been very easy to make someone bleed.
Then the rage dissipated. And it became something else instead. Something so much worse.
Despair.
