“Is that enough though? To take the word of one man? Why is it okay for him to hold all the cards? Why is it okay for him to dictate how you live just because he says so?” I felt myself quake inside. From anger at his presumption.
At fear that he may be right…
“No. That’s not how it is.”
I thought of the dark walls of The Refuge. Of the day I had stopped crying. Blood on my wrist.
Then Pastor Carter’s face above me.
He saved me from myself.
That’s what he told me.
“Only I can save you, Sara. Lean on me. Listen to me. I’ll never leave you…”
“Why do you do that?” Bastian asked suddenly, pulling me out of my darkest memories.
“Do what?” I asked in confusion.
“Rub your wrist when you’re upset.”
I dropped my hand, not realizing what I was doing. “I’m not upset.”
Lies. So many of them.
They devoured me.
Bastian lifted my wrist. Ran his thumb over the thin, raised scar. His eyes lifted to mine. They shattered me. “Sara…”
I snatched my hand back, wrapping my fingers around my wrist. “It’s nothing.”
Realizing he had stepped over a line, he let it go. Though there was an awareness now when he looked at me that was unsettling. As though he could see straight through me. To the darkest, most desperate part of me.
He looked as though he wanted to say something more.
Maybe I wanted him to. Maybe I wanted to share the burden.
Instead he sighed, the softest of noises. The saddest of sounds.
“How much farther do we need to go?” He tried to smile. It was bleak and pointless.
“Only another fifteen minutes or so.” My voice was brittle and weak. As though all the air had been taken from my lungs.
I could almost still feel his fingers on my wrist. On the secret I kept hidden there.
He took my hand. “Show me the way, Sara.”
We walked across the meadow. The soft heat of the summer day bearing down on us. I didn’t take his hand. I wished I was brave enough to.
The sun was so bright it was blinding. It scorched my skin. It tasted like fire.
I imagined dying that way. With his hand in mine.
I could hear the waterfall before I saw it. The roar as it hit the rocks. We all but ran down a hill to the river below. I could see David and Anne sitting on the bank, shoes off, feet dangling into the water.
Anne waved as we approached. “Took you long enough,” she called out.
“It was farther than I remembered.” I kicked my shoes off and waded in up to my ankles. The water was chilly, but not too cold.
