Why weren’t they demanding answers?
I could only assume they didn’t want them.
Pastor Carter bowed his head, closed his eyes, made a real show of looking contemplative. As though receiving a message from high up. What a douche.
“Part of your journey, Bastian, is to rid yourself of all earthly ties. The car you mentioned has no purpose for you anymore.”
Yeah, I got the point.
As much as I hated it, I signed the title over to Jeremy ‘cult-leader’ Carter. It was hard to do. I loved that car. It was my first solo purchase when I turned eighteen.
But if I wanted to stay with my brother, I had to suck it up.
I handed the title to Pastor Carter. The dick never even thanked me.
I quickly realized I had entered the Twilight Zone.
The so-called disciples creeped me the fuck out. It was like taking a step back in time. They all dressed the same. They took cold showers, for Christ’s sake. They hardly ever spoke. And there was way too much praying.
But I’d wear the mask. I’d worship an absent god. I’d do everything I had to until I got David home.
I sat up and looked around at the group of people all lying on the ground, dressed in white like some sort of virginal sacrifice. I had a hard time believing these people took themselves seriously.
But they did.
Their silence was unnerving.
Their single-minded devotion to their leader was disturbing.
I felt eyes on me and I glanced over to find Sara watching me.
She wasn’t praying either.
We stared at each other for a few minutes. Trying to read one another. Trying to determine the threat—if there was one.
Why did I get the sense that she saw straight through me? Her gaze was intense. Too intense.
I broke eye contact first.
I felt something like relief…something like pain.
I looked back at her.
I couldn’t help it.
She had closed her eyes again.
I recognized the feeling in my gut.
Disappointment.
It was dark. So dark.
I couldn’t remember how long I had been there.
One day.
Two.
