It was late when we finally left the waterfall.

David and Anne had once again gone ahead, arms wrapped around each other, leaving Bastian and me alone. We were both still wet and with the sun dipping below the horizon, we were cold. My clothes were ruined. I’d have to throw them out. I really didn’t have time to make a new skirt and blouse, but I couldn’t be upset with how I’d spent my afternoon.

“Thanks for today. And for the art supplies. And for being my only friend here. I really need one,” Bastian said as we neared The Retreat. My steps felt heavier the closer we got. I knew there would be consequences for missing Daily Devotional. I already dreaded seeing my mom. Seeing Pastor.

“Sure,” I said distractedly as we came to the break in the trees. I could see smoke rising from the chimneys, the smell of cooking on the wind. I steeled myself for what I was going to face.

“So, I was thinking of making a tee-pee and camping out in the woods. Maybe start communing with the deer. I could make my own crafts and sell them in town. You want to join me?”

“Sure,” I said and then realized what he said. “What a minute, what are you talking about?”

Bastian shook his head. “You’re distracted. What’s going on?” He took my hand, stopping me. “You’re a hard woman to read, Sara. One minute we’re having fun, talking and laughing, the next you’re freezing me out. It’s like walking on an ice shelf, waiting for it fall out from underneath me. Not that I don’t love being kept on my toes, I just wish you’d tell me what you were thinking.”

I stared down at our joined hands. Sometimes the pieces fit together like perfect inevitability. And then sometimes those pieces crumbled and fell apart. Some days it felt as though Bastian and I were the former. Just right. Almost normal.

But most days we were the latter. Because here, in this world we lived in, we weren’t fated. We were destined for other things.

“We missed Daily Devotional,” I said by way of answering him.

Bastian stared into my eyes. I was drowning in them…

“You’re going to get into trouble, aren’t you? Like that day in the woods with Clement and Stanley. You were scared. All of you were,” he surmised, his expression troubled.

I pulled away. He let me. He wouldn’t hold on if I wanted him to let go. With him, the choice would always be mine.

“We have rules, Bastian. You know that. We have duties and responsibilities. We have one thing to concentrate on. And it’s not going to the waterfall. It’s not artwork. It’s not talking about things that will never, can never, be.” I was working myself up. I was terrified.

I felt the walls of The Refuge all around me.

“What is it your so freaked out about?” he asked. My hands were shaking. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself. He closed his eyes, as if trying to control himself. When he opened them, I felt the intensity of his gaze everywhere.

“It’s not right, Sara. You should be able to live your own life. Make your own decisions. Not live in fear of stepping out of line.” His voice rose and I immediately shushed him, not wanting him to be overheard.

“Stop talking like that. I’m fine—”

“We can leave,” he said. “We’ll get David and Anne and just leave.” He took a deep breath as though steadying himself. “We can start a different kind of life.” His fingers also shook as they pushed the hair back away from my face.

“David will never leave.” I felt weak. I needed him to stop talking. I needed him to tell me more.

His face twisted with pain. He knew I was right. David would never walk away from Pastor. He touched my face again. Tracing the line of my lips. Cupping the side of my neck. “Then you and me, Sara.” I blinked in shock at his suggestion. I couldn’t imagine him ever leaving David, but his eyes were serious. His expression resolute. “We’ll go. The two of us.” His voice cracked and it was then that I could hear the lie. His eyes flittered away, not quite meeting mine. We both knew he would never be able to hide the deception in them.

What sort of life could a woman like me have? A woman without money or family or skills.

Worst of all, a woman without faith.

I felt the wind knocked out of me.

A woman without faith.

Had I lost my devotion?

Had doubt clouded my mind? Had sin entered my heart?

That scared me more than the memory of The Refuge. More than Mom’s anger and Pastor Carter’s reprimand.

What was I without faith?

A black hole.

I couldn’t allow that to happen.

I pushed Bastian away hard enough that he stumbled. “I have to go. I’m sorry—I just—I have to go.”

“Wait.” Bastian pulled me towards him. His arms wrapping around me. He rested his forehead against mine. I felt myself lean into him. Absorbing all that he offered. Even as I fought with myself. Screaming into the silence that I should walk away. Pretend I didn’t feel anything for this man.

These emotions were tearing me in half.

“Sara. Please. Just think about it. You deserve more than this.” He ran his nose along mine. “You deserve to live whatever life you want.” He kissed the corner of my mouth and I froze.

Then I melted. Every part of me liquefied. Like molten heat.

Just from that one, chaste kiss.

“Bastian, please…”

Please what?

Please stop?

My body rebelled against the very thought.

Please more?

Yes. Absolutely.

So much more.

And like earlier when I made the decision to go to the waterfall, it all seemed so simple in my mind. Being with Bastian felt right.

Even when everything I had ever been told said it was wrong.

He kissed the tip of my nose. His lips trailed along the curve of my cheek to the sensitive spot beneath my ear. “I imagine you away from here. I wonder what kind of life you’d have. I think of all the different Saras that could be. The happy Sara. The confident Sara. The Sara who would help people. The Sara who goes to the grocery store and spends Sundays in the park.” He pulled back, staring into my eyes. I was trying not to cry. He had no idea how hard it was for me to hear him say these things. To imagine a girl I could never be. No matter how much, I realized, I wished I could be her.

“And I would want to know each and every one of them.”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move.

Bastian reached into my chest and held my heart in his hand.

He kissed my cheek, just as I had kissed his before. “I know with total certainty, that in every one of those lives, no matter what, I’d find you. I can’t live in any type of world that doesn’t have you in it.” His eyes were bright with unshed tears. His voice cracked and split me open.

My eyes fluttered closed. I tilted my head up.

And when he kissed me it was everything all at once.

It was joy and passion. It was fear and devastation.

It was the pulling apart of my entire existence.

It mended parts of me I hadn’t realized were broken.

My lips parted. I felt his tongue. I shuddered, tasting him. Wanting him more than I ever wanted anything in my entire life.

I knew that I would sacrifice anything for this feeling. For this moment of absolute, wild abandon. For this moment of total control.

I would give up my fate.

I would give up my path.

I would give up faith.

For him. For this.

He was terrifying.

I broke away. My lips throbbed. My body trembled. I wanted to pull him close. So close.

I needed to push away.

“Sara,” he said my name with a strangled sob. “Sara.” A prayer. A benediction. As if I were his path. His journey.

His reason.

“Believe in me,” he whispered, his eyes hopeful yet wary. “Have faith in this.”

He made it sound so easy. For a few brief, glorious moments it was.

With him I would worship at a different kind of altar. One rooted in this world, with this man. Our love could become my religion. His words my homily.

His soul my home.

Falling for him was soft and gentle. And my heart welcomed the inevitable impact.

Yet, what would be left of me when it was all over?

What would I be when desire gave way to reality?

I said nothing. I had no words.

He waited for me to give him something. After he had given me so much.

I couldn’t.

I didn’t know what to do.

So, I turned and I ran.

Mom was enraged when I returned to our house.

“Where have you been?” she screamed, violence in the air. Her nails broke my flesh as she gripped my arm, telling me how ashamed she was. And I took it. Because I deserved it.

Because I had allowed Satan to whisper sweet thoughts in my ear. I had been tempted by ideas I shouldn’t be thinking about.

I hated myself.

“Pastor Carter wants you to go to the solarium immediately,” Mom said after ordering me to burn my clothes. They sizzled in the fire. The earlier flashes of happiness disappearing in the smoke.

I didn’t question why Pastor Carter wanted to see me. I did as I was told.

The not-so perfect disciple.

I made my way to Pastor Carter’s house. I entered the solarium, taking my shoes off. The wood was warm and hard beneath my bare feet.

I had always loved the smell of this room. Pine needles and earth.

It was meant to be a place of healing. A place of total calm and serenity.

But tonight, after being with Bastian, the memory of his mouth on mine, I didn’t feel calm or serene.

I stood just inside Pastor’s inner sanctuary. The room in his home reserved for prayer and devotion. Only a select few had been within its walls. Most days I felt thankful to be one of them.

Today I wanted to be anywhere else. I wanted solitude. I wanted to hide my face so he wouldn’t see…

We can leave. We can start a different kind of life.

Dear God, I wanted to. I had let myself be swayed by Bastian’s honeyed promises and visions of a better world.

But there wasn’t a better world. That’s what Pastor Carter had taught us. It was all lies and deception. The devil wanted us to lose our way. We had to save our souls.

Or I’d be left behind.

I just thought there was more to you than the rest of them. That you could see more.”

I needed to confess my sins to Pastor Carter. I needed to tell him about Bastian. About the wicked words that had infested my heart.

Yet, I hesitated.

The thought of Bastian being forced to leave left me reeling. Of him being made to leave his brother behind.

The memory of him at the gate, pleading to let him stay, hammered against my skull. I wanted to scream.

Why was I protecting him?

Because of him, I was losing my way.

Because of him, I was waking up…

No!

Deep breaths. One. Two. Three.

Deep breaths. Four. Five. Six.

I breathed in the scent of the room, looking for the calm I so desperately needed. The sun had started to set and there was only darkness. The flickering from the candles in the windows threw shadows across the floor.

I shivered, feeling so, so cold.

I closed my eyes and I made myself remember.

This space had always been associated with my most intense memories. Of feelings that had transformed my life.

Bastian’s face flashed in my mind. His eyes. His mouth. His hands as they held mine. He never sought to control me. He only wanted me to be happy.

But so did Pastor Carter. He only wanted what was best for me. He only wanted to save my soul.

The door opened and light flooded in. I could barely keep my head up. I hadn’t eaten in days. No water for at least that long. I smelled bad. I had gone to the bathroom in the corner. I felt ashamed. And disgusting.

At some point, in my despair, I had found a stick on the floor. I barely remembered breaking it in half. Of taking it to my wrist and pushing deep until I felt the warmth. But not deep enough to end it all.

Only enough for the pain.

Like a savior, he appeared and I thought he was a hallucination.

Arms lifted me up. “Don’t touch me,” I pleaded.

“Shh, my child. Let me take care of you.” He tucked me into his chest and carried me.

I fell asleep and when I woke up, I was in a room of windows. The sun bright in every corner. Pastor Carter put a cup of water to my lips and I drank greedily. He cleaned and bandaged my mutilated wrist.

“You’ve seen the dark, Sara. Now let me show you the light.”

Pastor Carter had taken me out of that horrible place. Not my mother. Not anyone else. Only him.

He fed me. He gave me water.

He washed my face and sang to me.

He covered my wounds and cared for me.

There was no anger. Only relief to be out of The Refuge. Desperation for the affection Pastor Carter offered.

I’d follow him anywhere.

Pastor Carter.

My protector.

“Sara, hello.” Pastor’s voice filled the room. His warm tone tinged with something else. Something harder.

“Hello, Pastor.”

He was on the floor, a notebook open in his lap. A lamp was turned on beside him. His long, greying blond hair tied back in a low ponytail. He watched me with hooded blue eyes. So stern. So unhappy.

“It’s very late, child. Where have you been?”

“I—”

“You weren’t at Daily Devotional. Neither was Anne.” His mouth pressed into a firm line. “Neither were the Scott brothers.”

I swallowed thickly, my stomach twisting and turning, my insides mush.

“You’ve been sinning, Sara,” Pastor Carter stated gruffly.

I trembled.

His voice took me back. I was no longer an eighteen-year-old woman standing in front of her savior.

I was an eight-year-old girl, frightened of the hard man who led her to The Refuge.

I dropped to my knees, my hands folded in supplication, my head bowed low.

“I’m sorry, Pastor. Please forgive me.”

Silence was my only answer.

Total, horrifying silence.

He wouldn’t speak. He let me remain on my knees, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

“What am I to forgive you for? What sins have you committed?” he asked softly. His voice enfolding me, constricting my breathing.

What sins did I want to confess? What could I say to make this better?

My mind was teetering. I felt unbalanced. Tears trickled down my cheeks.

“I shouldn’t have missed Daily Devotional. I know it is imperative to my path. I…I have strayed,” I sobbed.

“Come, child,” he murmured, more gently than before.

I got to my feet quickly and hurried over to him. I took his hand and kissed his knuckles. My tears coating his skin. I sank to the carpet in front of him, keeping my head bowed. “I’m sorry, Pastor. I’m so, so sorry.” I kissed his hand again.

I felt Pastor’s lips on the top of my head.

“Blessings to you, Sara Bishop.” His breath stirred my hair as he spoke gently in my ear.

I lifted my head and raised my eyes to his. He still seemed angry, but perhaps my anguish softened him.

He cupped my face in his palms, his thumbs pressing into my cheeks. “Sara, how is your soul?” he asked. The usual question.

I gave the expected answer. “Ready for your guidance.”

His hands lingered a little before taking my hands in his. “Let us pray. Your heart is weary. There is a smudge on your spirit. It worries me.”

“Help me take it away,” I begged.

“Offer yourself up to God. Only His wisdom can free you.”

We sat silently together, each praying for different things. The same things.

Yet, the quiet didn’t soothe me. It always had before. Since I was a confused and angry child.

Though not today.

Something had changed inside me. Something vast and mighty.

Like a dam as it tried to hold back a flood…

After a few minutes, Pastor gripped my chin and forced me to look at him. “There is darkness in you, Sara. Tell me what troubles you. What has caused you to drift from your path?”

I didn’t want to answer. I wanted to imprison the truth and keep it safe.

I felt strangely resentful of his questions. Of his demands for answers I didn’t want to give.

I shoved away those thoughts with everything I had. It was Pastor’s duty to see into the souls of his followers. It was my duty as a disciple to tell him every painful transgression.

Could I hand over Bastian as an offering?

You should be able to live your own life. Make your own decisions. Not live in fear of stepping out of line.

I bowed my head again. I shuddered slightly. My bone and marrow straining with the burden of my feelings. “I’ve had sinful thoughts, Pastor,” I rasped. Feeling shame, but also feeling something else.

Defiance.

My thoughts were my own. I didn’t have to give them to anyone.

More sin!

Was it?

Bastian didn’t think so.

But Pastor Carter said…

“Tell me about them. Confess your impurities,” he urged me. Earnest. Expectant.

“I…I’ve been curious,” I started to explain in halting words. I’d give him something small. I couldn’t give him everything. Not the biggest and worst. But something significant all the same.

“Curious?” Pastor prompted when I was hesitant to continue.

“About the outside,” I whispered. The decade old guilt ate away at me. It was impossible to escape.

“Oh, Sara,” Pastor said somberly.

“I just wonder if everything is lost. If they will all be left behind. There must be some good people.” I was shocked at my words. At my boldness. I had never spoken so.

This was because of Bastian.

This was because of Anne and David.

This was because of me.

“Sara, look at me.”

I lifted my head again. Pastor’s face was so sad. Disappointed. The anger was there too. He didn’t hide it well.

“The disciples are my family. I want to ensure you will be welcomed home when The Awakening comes. End times are quickly approaching. Those people out there will all be washed away in blood and fire. You’ve read the scriptures?”

I nodded, sweat trickling down the back of my neck. My skin sticky. The sickening lump in my chest making it hard to breathe.

The Awakening.

Bastian couldn’t understand why we didn’t know more about this spiritual event. Part of me wondered to. Why was this information being kept from us?

What was Pastor trying to hide?

“And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy.” Pastor Carter’s words vibrated through me like a warning.

“Out there, people are scavenging. They murder. They rape. They steal. Everyone is out for themselves. They’ve lost their souls to Satan. They’ve turned their backs on God. Up here we wait. And we keep ourselves clean.” He pressed his mouth into a thin line. “There’s nothing on the outside but misery and sin. Your soul is too good for them. For anything they might give you.”

“But these thoughts won’t go away,” I admitted. Fearfully, I pressed my hands together. Knuckles white. “Perhaps there is beauty—”

“Where are you hearing this? These kinds of thoughts come from Satan himself. He bleeds dissension and temptation into your heart and waits for you to seek him out. He paints pretty pictures all the while masking his evil intentions.” Pastor raised his voice, his cheeks flushed. He ran hands through his thin hair, standing it on end. He looked a bit crazed.

He looked like this when he was preaching. When he was in the throes of something divine. Something holy.

I found myself recoiling slightly. Overwhelmed by his vehemence.

I was reminded of David earlier. Of the comparisons I had drawn to myself.

I was horrified.

“They will die!” he shouted. I flinched. “They will all be burned alive! Is that what you want? To lose your soul to eternal damnation?” His eyes snapped with a fire that consumed.

I shrank in on myself. “No, Pastor. I don’t!”

“You will be lost, Sara! You will be separated from those you love forever. From your mother. From Anne. From me! Because Satan wants you for himself. He’s greedy. He will rip you apart and feast on your still beating heart. Your blood will coat the road to hell!”

I was going to throw up. The image was terrifying. I hated when Pastor got like this. It reminded me too much of the things that had frightened me when I first came to The Retreat.

“I’m sorry, Pastor—”

Pastor shushed me. “Be silent, Sara. You must spend time with your thoughts. Your prayers.”

I began to shake violently. Was he going to take me to The Refuge? He couldn’t send me there. I couldn’t go back. Not after the last time…

I rubbed at the scar on my wrist then stopped, realizing what I was doing.

Bile rose in the back of my throat and black spots swam in front of my eyes. I felt dangerously close to passing out.

I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have told him…

I’m glad he doesn’t know about Bastian. What would he do then?

“Please, Pastor,” I begged. I could barely speak, the horror of The Refuge too great.

Please, Mommy. Don’t leave me!

Pastor’s breathing was shallow and ragged, but he calmed down. He smoothed his hair and took my hands again. They were cold and clammy. Could he feel my fear?

“Everyone has missteps. Our paths are never smooth. I have told my children about the importance of facing temptation. Of looking it in the eye and turning your back on it. Do you want to walk through the gate? Do you want to venture into the outside?” he asked.

I couldn’t say a word. I only shook my head. My eyes pleading.

Please don’t send me to The Refuge…I’m so sorry…I’ll say anything…

“He has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time.” Pastor Carter calmed himself down. He kissed my palm. I loved and hated the feel of his mouth. “I know you don’t want to leave, Sara. You’re too strong. Too special. God put you here for a very specific reason. This is only a test. But you can’t succumb. You can’t cave. The darkness will eat you alive. I won’t be able to save you if you give your soul to Satan.”

“I won’t!” I protested.

He held my hand against his cheek and closed his eyes briefly. I was thankful for the momentary reprieve.

When he opened them again, they were clear and at peace. The passion of earlier had dissipated. “Come lay with me, child.” He got to his feet and held out his hand to me.

I felt beaten down. Emotionally exhausted. I would do anything to make it up to Pastor. For testing his faith in me.

I didn’t want to betray his trust.

Yet there was a niggling in the back of my mind that resisted. That screamed no!

I thought of Bastian. His sad eyes. His soft words. His hope.

The amazing feel of his lips. The total rightness of it.

Was he wrong to think the world beautiful?

Was Pastor wrong to think it evil?

Could my life be my own as Bastian said it could be?

Pastor watched me impatiently. His eyes gleaming. My stomach rolling.

“Sara.” My name sounded like a curse on his lips. Something dirty.

I stood up and took his hand. He led me to a small door. Opening it, I broke out into a cold sweat. My mouth went dry as my body had a visceral reaction to the inky blackness beyond.

I trembled. My belly was finally full. The terror of The Refuge was starting to fade.

But now I felt a different kind of fear.

Even as he looked at me with his kind eyes.

“Sara, lie with me. Let me heal you,” he said softly.

I looked for my mom. But as usual, she was nowhere.

And Pastor was everywhere.

He lit a candle. One solitary flame. “Let me see what God has made,” he murmured.

I hesitated. I knew what he wanted. What I had always done before.

My mind rebelled.

How did this save my soul?

Pastor Carter’s face hardened. “Sara, let me see what God has made.”

Slowly, unsteadily, I peeled off my clothes. I felt as though I were standing in quicksand. Sinking. No escape. I stood before him naked and open. Legs spread. Hands by my side so he could see all of me.

I bowed my head.

At least I wasn’t being taken to The Refuge. Anything was better than that.

Anything?

There were many other things to fear in the dark.

“Come here,” he instructed gently.

He laid me down on the pile of blankets he kept in the center of the room. They smelled stale. As if they hadn’t been cleaned in a long time. I briefly wondered who else had laid on them. How many?

I fought to find the numbness that always aided me. He stretched out beside me, pulling me flush against him. My back pressed to his front. He remained fully clothed.

At the first touch of his hands the numbness came. It took me far away. To the hills. To the river.

To the waterfall with Bastian.

I wouldn’t think. I only listened to his prayers.

“This is God’s work. This is what he wants. Let me take away your pain. Bless this holy child and wash away her sins. Show her the way,” he rasped in my ear.

He loved me. He loved all of his sheep. He took care of us. He would heal us and lead us home.

He loved me.

He would save my soul.

I floated away. Into the sky.

“Get dressed, Sara,” he said after some time. His voice thick and his breathing ragged. I wouldn’t look at him. I kept my head down.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

He led me back to the room of glass. The numbness was replaced with relief.

There would be no refuge today. I could be thankful for that at least. My body belonged to Pastor. To God.

“To yourself, Sara. Only yourself,” Bastian whispered in my ear, as though he were beside me.

“God accepts you for your faults. I’m his conduit. I only want to keep you focused. I only want your spiritual wellbeing. You are coming of an age, Sara, where we must talk about the next step on your path.”

He loved me.

He loved all of us.

He would lead me home…

I nodded mutely. God had taken my voice.

“You have embraced the divine word. You work hard to cleanse your soul, do you not?” Pastor was saying.

I nodded. It was the only reaction I could make. All the worry, all the doubt had slipped away to that dark, murky place that spread outward from my heart.

“And are you focused on The Awakening? Do you feel prepared?” Pastor asked.

The Awakening.

What was The Awakening? Did anyone really know? All I knew was that it was the point when we reached absolute purity and were ready to be called home. God decided when we were ready. Pastor Carter as his earthly voice steered us forward. If we didn’t live a pure and clean life, erase the toxins and evil from our hearts, then we would be left behind. Our loved ones would ascend without us. That was my idea of hell. Being alone. Without anyone. Abandonment was my greatest fear.

But how did we ascend? What would exactly happen in this perfect, Godly moment? It was a total mystery.

“Your Awakening is coming soon, Sara,” he said and I felt dizzy.

“Soon?” I whispered, apprehension tinged with excitement I had been told to feel swept through me.

“Yes, my sweet, Sara. Very soon. We must ready your heart and soul so you will be taken.”

I could barely breathe. I didn’t know what to say. I felt paralyzed.

“What do I have to do?” I asked, voice high and thready.

Pastor Carter squeezed my hands. I felt steadied by his warmth. His solidity. His pale blue eyes were serious. “Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.”

I knew he was quoting scripture again. Though I didn’t quite understand what that particular passage had to do with me.

“I don’t braid my hair, Pastor. I don’t wear jewelry. I don’t consider myself vain,” I objected. Had I slipped up? Had my thoughts of wanting to look pretty somehow been written on my face?

Pastor pushed a piece of hair back from my face. “I know, Sara. You are very beautiful. More beautiful than any other woman. You have proven your holiness. Your godliness. Which is why I feel you are ready for the most important of sacraments. God has told me it’s time for your sacred marriage.”

My heart stopped.

It had to have.

I couldn’t have heard him correctly.

“My sacred marriage?” My voice sounded frail. It broke apart and crumbled away.

Pastor Carter opened the large Bible he kept with him. He skimmed the passages and began to read.

“And he made a husband and wife, yoked together as one flesh.” Pastor looked up at me. “Marriage is a model of God and the Trinity. It is the ultimate expression of faith and devotion.”

Yes, I understood this. But—

“Your Awakening is coming, Sara. I want you to be ready. It would break my heart for you to be left behind.” There it was again.

The threat.

The warning.

He put my hand to his chest. “It is my duty as your shepherd to herd you towards God. To ensure that your fate is as it should be. To become a holy wife to a holy husband.”

“I’m to be married?” I couldn’t be sure I spoke aloud. The words were wisps of nothingness. Without form.

Pastor chuckled. “I can see this is all too much for you right now. I want you to take my Bible and read the passages I’ve highlighted. Absorb it. Take it into your heart. Know that I only want what’s best for you. What’s right. I don’t want you left here in this hostile world without me. Without your mother. Without your family.” He handed me the holy book.

The very real fear lay like a stone in my stomach.

“I don’t want that either,” I said, trying not to weep.

“You are special, Sara. So special.” He put his hand on top of my head and I lowered it obediently.

My body shuddered and I felt the tears come unbidden. I couldn’t stop them.

“Heavenly Father, guide Sara on her path. Help her see the truth of your wisdom. Fill her with your light. The end is coming. Lead her home.”

The end is coming.

We all knew that.

The end was almost here.

My Awakening was soon.

I cried and cried. I didn’t know why I cried. Whether it was from joy or sadness.

Pastor Carter smiled.

He took me in his arms. Embracing me like the child I still was in so many ways. He stroked my back, praying. His words were everything I wanted to hear.

“Your duty is to our family, Sara. To God. Always remember that.”

He twisted me into a tiny ball of needy desperation.

“I will, Pastor. I do.”

“Follow my word and you will find eternal salvation.”