“Bastian! Over here!” Rosie called out from across the dining hall before being scolded by her mother for being too loud.

I headed over to table occupied by Rosie Fisk and her family. “Good morning, Rosie. How are you today?” I asked her.

“I told Mommy about the woolly worm you found and how you made sure he stayed with his family,” she said excitedly, her eyes gleaming.

“I appreciate your kindness towards our daughter, Bastian,” Mrs. Fisk said stiffly, as though she were only speaking to me out of obligation. “It’s good of you to show her all God’s creatures.”

Mr. Fisk, a tall, reedy looking man with wire rimmed glasses that sat precariously on the edge of his nose, held out his hand. “Blessings to you, Bastian.”

I shook his hand, still not sure how to respond to the strange mannerisms of most of The Gathering members.

“I liked spending time with the children. They’re all very well behaved.” I knew I had to be careful what I said. I quickly figured out that our brief game of hide and seek was a big no-no. From what I could tell, the kids at The Retreat weren’t given any time to just be children. Their entire day was spent praying or working.

My chest ached for little Rosie, and too mature Dakota, and Darlene who would never really meet your eyes.

Mrs. Fisk nodded brusquely. “That’s good of you to say. I can think of no better compliment to give my daughter.”

Rosie gave me a small grin before looking back down at her bowl of porridge. I noted how Mrs. Fisk never touched her daughter. Never gave her any form of physical affection. I remembered how Rosie had held my hand in the forest, never letting go and I felt incredibly sorry for her.

“Rosie seems quite fond of you. Perhaps you’d like to join us for a meal some time,” Mr. Fisk suggested.

I was a bit confused. Everyone ate together. Didn’t I share a meal with them every day?

“We’d be happy to make room for you at our table,” Mrs. Fisk offered, though her eyes were frosty. I wasn’t getting a lot of warm fuzzies from her. How did she end up with such a sweet kid?

“Uh, sure,” I replied.

“Bastian can sit next to me,” Rosie spoke up.

“He that keepeth his mouth, keepeth his life, Rosie,” Mr. Fisk rebuked.

Huh?

Rosie didn’t seem to understand him either, but she didn’t say another word.

It seemed I needed to read my Bible a bit more. It felt as though I needed a string of verses to keep in my arsenal around these people.

“Thank you for the offer. Perhaps another time. My brother is waiting for me.” I tried to catch Rosie’s eye to give her a smile, but she kept her chin tucked into her chest, her shoulders drooped. It was a far cry from the exuberant girl who had played in the woods. It made me hate her parents.

I said goodbye and made my way back to the table where David was sitting with Pastor Carter and Daphne Bishop, Sara’s mother.

“Remember what is written in the holy book—But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all the liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.” Pastor Carter pressed a finger to his lips as if in contemplation. David and Ms. Bishop hung on his every word. I wanted to roll my eyes. “Those days are upon us, family. And we will watch their demise from our mountain top and know we are saved.”

“Amen,” Daphne murmured, nodding.

“Amen,” David parroted, his voice brittle but eager.

I sat down beside my brother, wishing more than anything we were home. That I was sitting in my parents’ bright kitchen eating Mom’s famous peach cobbler.

But no matter how many times I pinched myself, it seemed I was still here.

“I was reading Revelations last night and this passage really spoke to me; Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more,” Daphne said loudly. Too loudly given the silence of the room. But I got the impression that Sara’s mother spoke for others to listen. Whether she said the words directly to them or not. She liked to put on a show. “This is the new heaven. The new earth. This is the meadow for the chosen.” She clasped her hands to her chest, her eyes wide.

She looked deranged. Even though she was obviously an attractive woman, her demeanor disturbed me. She fidgeted restlessly as though she couldn’t sit still, constantly picking at the skin around her nails until they bled. Her long blonde hair, the same pretty color as Sara’s, was full of knots. There was no way to brush it. I wondered what she’d look like with a shaved head.

She rocked in her seat. Back and forth. Back and forth. Her lips moving even when she wasn’t speaking. No one seemed to think her behavior out of the ordinary. In fact, they listened to her. Almost as avidly as they listened to Pastor Carter.

And the two of them together were uncomfortable to watch.

Daphne touched Pastor Carter frequently. Rubbing her fingers along his arm. She sat as close as possible to him without actually being in his lap. She caressed his face, her unsettled gaze adoring, as though he were her God.

And he loved it. I could tell.

Watching them, it was obvious there was something between them. I’d bet money the dirty Pastor was boinking Sara’s mom. Which was even more skeevy, given the way I had seen him stare at Sara.

I pushed my bowl of porridge away, having lost my appetite.

“God led you to that passage, Daphne. He wanted to show you that what we are doing here is good in his eyes.” Pastor Carter bowed his head. Everyone in the room did the same. Like puppets on a string, they mimicked the man’s actions.

I bowed my head too because I knew if I didn’t, someone would see. And it was important I play along. For now. Even if doing so was like tearing my fingernails off, one at a time.

“Thank you, Lord, for showing our sister Daphne the truth of your word. For blessing us with your love. For gifting us this place as our home. We live only to serve you. We die to serve you. And when the time comes for our Awakening, we will go with love in our hearts. For you have shown us that our way is blessed.”

“Amen,” everyone said.

There was something vaguely ominous about the Pastor’s prayer. It gave me the heebie-jeebies.

“I’ve prayed to God to show me the way, Pastor. I worry that I’m not doing enough to show Him my devotion,” David spoke up. I hated how needling he sounded. How he appeared so desperate for Pastor Carter’s regard.

What happened to the guy who refused to go to prom because the committee wouldn’t sell tickets to a same sex couple? Where was the man who stood up to the school bully when he shoved tiny Henry Bolling into a locker?

He didn’t seem to be anywhere. He was lost underneath this frantic desire for one man’s approval.

Pastor Carter pressed two fingers to David’s forehead. “There’s always more you can do to show your devotion, my son. We will pray on this together. I know how much you want to please Him.” I didn’t like the undercurrent of what he was saying, but I couldn’t quite figure out why.

It was hard to get a read on anything in this place when everything gave me the creeps.

Except…

I looked across the dining hall to see Sara lift a heavy cast iron pot from the oven. She seemed to struggle under the weight of it, but no one helped her. Several other women bustled around, putting muffins on a plate, mixing porridge, serving the other members—I refused to call them disciples.

I hated being waited on. It felt weird. And wrong. But I had learned you couldn’t step in and help. Everyone had their place and it was strictly adhered to.

Sara pushed hair out of her face, her cheeks rosy from the heat of the oven. As if sensing me watching her, she turned around, her eyes meeting mine. She froze for a minute and then…

She smiled.

I was bowled over. She had been all but avoiding me since I arrived. As though my presence bothered her for some reason.

This was new.

And it felt pretty good.

I waved at her and gave her a thumbs up. It was lame. But I was rewarded with an eye roll and a twitch of lips that let me know she wanted to laugh.

It felt like in the crowded room we had just shared something private.

She had definitely softened towards me since our game of hide and seek in the woods. I wasn’t sure why, but it was nice all the same. I needed a friend in this place. It was either that or go insane like the rest of them.

“Some of the brothers need help felling trees in the forest today. Bastian would be able to help them?”

I looked away from Sara and gave my attention back to the people at my table. Daphne Bishop gazed at me closely, her eyes narrowed. She regarded me coldly.

It was David who had spoken, so I purposefully looked away from Daphne.

“Of course, I’d love to be of help,” I said truthfully. Chopping down some trees was a hell of a lot better than being stuck in a prayer circle.

Pastor Carter gave me a smarmy smile. Or maybe it was his normal smile. Either way, it was slick as an oil spill. “And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.”

What was he going on about this time? He seemed to use scripture willy-nilly, for no other reason than to give feeble credibility to the crap he spewed.

“Amen,” everyone around us said all together.

“Amen,” I muttered before taking a bite of bread.

Pastor Carter rested his chin on his folded hands. “David tells me you’ve been having trouble sleeping, Bastian. Is the house not to your liking?”

I glanced at my brother, wondering why he was talking about me to the Pastor. Honestly, I was surprised David even noticed. He’d been in religious la-la land since we arrived.

I felt as though the man were goading me. Poking me for weaknesses, hoping he’d find them.

I’d be damned if I’d show him any.

“The house is great. It’s just quieter than I’m used to. I find that the lack of noise makes it hard to go to sleep,” I told him.

Pastor Carter and Daphne exchanged glances. “It is good that one should wait quietly for the Lord,” he stated with a condescending smile.

Uh okay, whatever.

“You’ll get used to it. Or you won’t. The choice is yours, isn’t it?” he went on.

What did that mean?

Before I could say anything, he got to his feet, Daphne following him. Everyone stopped eating and immediately bowed their heads until he left the room.

“Jesus,” I muttered under my breath.

David elbowed me. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain. It’s a sin, Baz.”

I swallowed the smartass remark that I wanted to lob back at him, knowing it would be of no use.

I stirred the now cold porridge with my spoon. “Why are you talking to Pastor Carter about me?” I asked my brother.

“He’s concerned about all of his flock. He wants to make sure you’re content. That you’re at peace,” David replied blandly. No feeling in his voice now that the venerated pastor had left.

“And if I’m not?” I hedged.

David went rigid beside me. “Then you’d need to leave. There’s no place at The Retreat for those who don’t believe.” His tone was harsh. I had no doubt he’d turn on me in an instant if he thought I wasn’t living by the rules Pastor Carter dictated.

The realization that I had lost the loyalty of my big brother hit me hard.

“David, what’s happened to you?” I couldn’t help myself asking. It seemed at The Retreat blood was definitely not thicker than water.

I glanced at little Rosie and her family.

The only bond that mattered was the one these people had with Pastor Carter.

My brother never answered me. As if an alarm had sounded, everyone got to their feet and silently left the room. Only Sara and the other women serving breakfast were left behind.

I knew it was time for quiet contemplation. Yet another round of useless praying.

I was expected to return to the building I was being forced to live in and stay silent until the call to chores.

Would anyone try to stop me if I walked out the door and kept on going?

Would David even care?

I knew the answer and it wasn’t one I liked.

I also knew I couldn’t leave him.

But the longer we stayed, the more I realized that getting him to go home was next to impossible.

Yet I wouldn’t give up. Not on David. Never on David.

Feeling despondent, I stood up and started to head for the door.

“Bastian, wait a minute.”

I was more than a little surprised to hear Sara call out for me. She came over, something tucked under her arm.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked her, feeling more tired than I could ever remember being.

“This is for you,” she said unceremoniously, holding out the bundle she held.

“For me?” I asked in confusion.

“Yes, take it,” she commanded, looking over her shoulder as if worried someone would overhear her.

I took the cloth from her hand, feeling something hard wrapped inside. I started to open it, but she stopped me.

“Not here. Take it home. Look at it there,” she instructed with a small note of panic in her voice.

“Okay. Uh, thanks.”

She rubbed her cheek with the back of her hand, leaving a line of black smudge. I wanted to wipe it away.

Mostly I wanted an excuse to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.

Fucking hell.

“I found it. I thought you’d like it.” She seemed agitated. She wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.

“You’re bringing me gifts now. I feel like we’ve entered a new level in our relationship,” I teased, loving how bothered she became when I messed with her.

She flushed. “You should go.”

She was always trying to make me leave. But this time I got the sense it was for other reasons than that she didn’t like me.

“Okay. But seriously, thank you.” I indicated the cloth wrapped mystery present.

“Maybe you could help out with Bible study again,” she said as she turned away.

“I’d like that,” I told her and I meant it.

I liked spending time with Sara Bishop.

She hurried off before either of us could say anything else.

I returned to the place I was staying—I wouldn’t call it home. It didn’t feel much like one. David wasn’t there. I assumed he was praying with Pastor Carter as he always did.

I hated how much time they spent together, but felt powerless to do anything about it.

The longer we stayed with The Gathering of the Sun, the more powerless I felt about everything.

It was easy to lose yourself here.

Forgetting what made you you happened too quickly.

I sat down on the bed, Sara’s gift in my lap. Slowly I unwrapped the bleached piece of cotton.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t what I found once the final roll of material fell away.

In my hands I held a battered sketchbook that had definitely seen better days. I opened it up to find scribbles and random doodles. But towards the back there were blank pages. I picked it up to have a better look when something fell to the floor. I leaned over to retrieve it, finding a bundle of pencils and even an eraser.

Sara had pilfered me art supplies.

My throat felt tight and my eyes grew hot.

Shit. I would not cry over a damn sketchpad.

I rubbed at my nose, blinking rapidly until it felt safe to look at the incredibly thoughtful gift again.

I noticed something written on the inside cover. I squinted to see the words in the dim light.

Now you can draw the sunrise.

Keep it hidden.

Sara

Just when I needed the reminder of exactly who Bastian Scott was, Sara offered it to me.

She had no way of knowing how important this would be to me.

I lifted the pencil and put it to the first blank piece of paper.

I sat there for a while, almost forgetting how to draw. How did you find inspiration in a place that sucked you dry?

Then I found it.

And I didn’t draw the sunrise.

I drew a girl at a gate.

A girl who gave me hope.