For imagining a world that I knew was dangerous.
No matter how beautiful Bastian portrayed it.
I had gone to bed and prayed for hours. Asking God for forgiveness. To wash away my sinful thoughts. I dug my nails into my skin, the pain reminding me of my purpose. Of the plan.
Pastor Carter would be so disappointed…
The shame overwhelmed me.
I bit my lip, teeth piercing soft flesh.
I had fallen asleep with the taste of blood in my mouth.
The sound of noisy footsteps interrupted my thoughts. I could hear them before I saw them. The Scott brothers pushed through branches, trouncing over undergrowth. They were talking low. Bastian seemed intent on what he was saying. David looked tired. Every time I saw him he seemed to be fading away. He had obviously lost weight to the point his skin was hanging from his bones.
They didn’t notice me at first, too focused on their conversation.
“I just don’t see why we can’t call Mom and Dad and let them know we’re all right. What is Pastor Carter’s big issue with us using the phone?” Bastian was saying.
David shrugged. “They’re his rules. We shouldn’t question them.”
It sounded like something I would have said. I would be the first to remind someone that we should adhere to Pastor’s dictates. They were in our best interests. I had subscribed to this mode of thinking for ten years. Yet hearing it from the older Scott brother’s mouth bothered me. It sounded distorted and wrong.
Why shouldn’t Bastian be able to contact his parents?
Why did we have to cut off ties with family? With friends? The more I thought about it the less sense it made.
“Right. They’rehisrules. He’s not a damn dictator—” He stopped short when he saw me standing there, my arms full of sticks. “Uh, hi.” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “How’s it going?”
I dropped the wood onto the pile I had made and dusted off my hands. “It’s going just fine. How about you?”
Bastian and David shared a look I couldn’t read. “We’re just peachy. Thought we’d come out here for a little bit before the rest of our day was micromanaged.”
“Baz—” David said his name with a note of angry warning.
The brothers seemed tense. Unhappy. There were no easy smiles on Bastian’s face. And David looked as though he were about to fall over.
“How was prayer group?” I asked. Bastian was clearly agitated. I instinctually wanted to tread carefully. I had learned through experience with my mother to manage the situation carefully.
But Bastian wasn’t Daphne Bishop. I had to remember that.
“We’re tired and my brain feels numb from boredom, but it was dandy,” Bastian complained.
“Tell me how you really feel,” I quipped. Bastian’s face cleared slightly and he smiled.
“I think I just did,” he replied. We shared a grin, though it faded too quickly.
David leaned down and gathered a few twigs, adding them to my pile. “Pastor Carter is an amazing man. He wants what’s best for all of us. He only wants to see that we are accepted by God. That we’re living our best lives.” His movements were sluggish and listless as though he were struggling to do the bare minimum. However, when he spoke, there was a fire there that I recognized in my fellow disciples. In myself. An absolute belief in the man who would lead us home.
“We can live our best lives without sequestering ourselves on the side of a mountain. Just sayin’,” Bastian added, his expression pinched and disapproving.
“That’s the toxicity of outside influences talking, Baz! That’s what Pastor warns us about. We have to expunge the negativity from our souls otherwise we’ll be left when our family ascends,” David exclaimed, showing more animation than I had ever seen from him. His zeal had me taking a step back.
Bastian seemed used to this. He barely flinched as David’s demeanor became more aggressive in an effort to make his point. “Pastor Carter is preparing us for The Awakening.” David’s face flushed red, his breathing labored.
I knew that for David, like the rest of us, his devotion to Pastor Carter was absolute. The wild expression in his eyes was one I was sure could be seen on my own face at times. He was practically regurgitating the same words I spoke. The same convictions.
And it bothered me.
