“Come on, D, get up.” I pulled the covers off David like I used to do when we were kids. When I’d run into his room and jump on the bed trying to wake him up.

Back then he’d sweep my legs out from underneath me and hit me in the face with a pillow.

Now…he just laid there. Curled into a ball, his eyes closed, refusing to open them.

He’d been like that most of the day.

Part of me wanted to join him. Hide under the covers and hope that when I decided to come out again I was tucked into my bed at school. Far away from this insane reality I found myself in.

I hated The Retreat. I felt confined. Restrained. Even though it was situated on a goddamned mountain, I had never felt so claustrophobic in my life.

Every moment of the day was monitored. It was obvious that going to the waterfall was a one-time thing. I felt watched now. More than before.

I knew that Pastor Carter didn’t trust me. Eyes were on me every second of every day. Reporting back to their venerable leader.

Stafford and Bobbie kept me busy. Asking me to help them fix the fencing that circled the one-hundred-acre property. It had taken up all my time. Bobbie was quiet. He spoke even less than Dave but I liked him. He was one of the few who didn’t look at me like I was a bomb about to go off. And Stafford spent most of the time criticizing my hammering skills. Which, admittedly were quite poor.

David hadn’t joined us. He had been sequestered away with Pastor Carter since a few days after going to the waterfall. Two of the elders, the ones I recognized from the day in the woods, would come and get him after breakfast and then bring him back just before curfew.

We were adults and we had a fucking curfew. It was nuts.

I had barely seen my brother. Let alone talk to him.

Yet, in the small increments of time we were together I could tell that his mood had altered completely.

I had felt slightly hopeful at the waterfall. David had seemed almost how he used to be. He smiled. He made jokes. He had thrown me, headfirst, into the river. I attributed a lot of that to Anne. Her presence was obviously helping him. They clearly liked each other.

But then we came back from our brief trip into the woods and it was like a hammer dropped. Sara had asked if Pastor Carter had spoken to us. He hadn’t said so much as a word to me since that day. It was as though he was avoiding me completely.

Yet his time with David increased dramatically.

It was more than obvious that our time at the waterfall hadn’t gone unnoticed. And that it wasn’t viewed favorably.

So, while David prayed—brainwashed is more like it—I was put to work. Carefully planned, monitored work. At least it kept me busy. Otherwise I’d lose my mind worrying about David.

Worrying about Sara.

I had felt the scar on her wrist. Deep down, I knew what that meant. I hadn’t asked her about it, because I knew she’d never tell me the truth. She was a woman who had become fluent in the art of denial.

If I was honest with myself, I could see how easy it was to get sucked into the monotony of their life here. Routine was dangerous in a place like this. It made you complacent. Overly accepting. The remoteness erased any thought of what life was like elsewhere. And I watched as David lost more and more of himself to these people. To this new life.

Every time he left to meet the leader of The Gathering, I felt a sick dread in my stomach. Instinct warned me that there was something malicious lurking beneath the façade of placid calm the people at The Retreat sought to create.

I just couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was.

And I sure as hell didn’t trust Pastor Carter.

There was something dishonest about him. Like a used car salesman, he was smooth with a hint of sleaze. I had no doubt he was a man that wore two faces. His words were clearly weapons of manipulation. No one dared say anything against him. If they questioned his teachings, they never said so out loud. He was their leader. Their fucking God.

He held immeasurable power over the people he had chosen to surround himself with. And my brother was now one of them.

It ripped my heart out.

The longer we stayed, the more entrenched David became. He swallowed their delusions and accepted them as truth. Just like everyone else.

They were zombies, following the apocalyptic ramblings of a crazy man.

Every single one of them was poison.

Well, maybe not all of them.

Anne seemed nice enough.

And Sara…

She was different.

I knew that deep down.

I was beginning to see that she too saw what was happening around her, but, for whatever reason, couldn’t escape.

I wanted to help her. I knew now, particularly after our day at the waterfall, that leaving her behind wasn’t an option.

Mom used to joke about my savior complex. My idealism that had me selling lemonade when I was five to raise money for the local animal shelter. My dad would tell me I shouldn’t be so unrealistic. That not everything, not everyone was worth saving.

Sara was.

I was sure of it in a way I was sure of very few things.

There was true kindness in her that seemed out of place amongst The Gathering of the Sun. I gravitated towards it in this insidious place. Like a beacon she helped me stay focused.

I had come to care about her. More than I thought possible. I hadn’t planned to kiss her. But damned if I wasn’t glad that I did. Now I thought about kissing her all the time. Of the way her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted. Of the taste of her mouth and the way she sighed when I touched her.

She was beautiful that burned from the inside out. It was more than her face or her unusual eyes. It was the deep down kind of beauty that had nothing to do with appearance.

She opened herself up to me, even if it was with great reluctance. I wanted to do anything to see her smile. To see her, if only for a few minutes, free of the chains The Gathering wrapped around her.

I was falling for her. It was kind of hard not to. She made it incredibly easy. Maybe it was the intensity of this life, or the feeling that we were living on borrowed time, but my emotions for Sara Bishop were magnified beyond anything I had ever felt for anyone before.

If I was the sort to believe in fate, I’d think Sara was mine. That I came to The Retreat not just to save my brother, but to help Sara save herself.

I shook David’s arm, trying to rouse him, but he wouldn’t move. “Come on, man, it’s time for daily whatever. You’re supposed to be praying.”

I sat down on the bed beside him, feeling his mood seep into me. His depression leeched away any good feeling I had.

David was getting worse. Not better.

Part of me had hoped, in some unrealistic way that perhaps his brand new fanaticism would pull him out of this horrible place he had been living in since being discharged from the army. That maybe the cult, at least, would take the place of the noise inside his head.

At first, David appeared to fit into this life. He built stuff. He ate their bland food. He spent time with other Gathering members. Yeah, he prayed a lot, but I was willing to overlook that if it meant he was feeling better.

But over time, any progress eroded away until he was left worse than he ever was before.

In fact, The Retreat seemed to feed the darkness inside him.

Almost as if the people here, particularly the so-called Pastor, wanted him as close to the edge as possible.

“What can I do, David? Tell me, what can I do?” I felt hopeless. I covered my face with my hands and tried not to sob like a child. I had been taking care of him for months. But this was harder than that. This was watching someone you love die from the inside out. I didn’t know how to stop it. I didn’t know how to help him.

All I knew was I had to get him out of there.

But it was becoming harder and harder to find a way.

A soft knock at the door startled me. It had been so quiet, too quiet, all day. I couldn’t get used to it. The endless silence. I missed the noise of the city. The chaos of living.

I didn’t understand how these people could think this was being alive.

David didn’t move, so I got up and opened the door, not entirely surprised to find Anne Landes on the other side.

“Hey, Anne,” I said tiredly, opening the door and letting her in.

Anne and my brother had been spending time together. At first it had bothered me. I had thought the last thing David needed was to get his emotions tangled up with some cultish nut job. I watched them closely, prepared to jump in when needed. Then I started to notice something that gave me hope. When they were together, he actually smiled. Seemed like his old self. She somehow brought that side out of him again.

And for that alone I liked her.

I looked behind the small girl for the other one that went everywhere with her. But Anne was alone.

I tried not to be disheartened. But I was. Immensely so. I looked forward to seeing Sara. It was the highlight of my days. My nights too.

Anne raised her eyebrows and gave me a smile. “She’s at Daily Devotional already.”

I had always broadcast my emotions for all to see—never bothering to hide them. David used to joke that I should never attempt to play poker because I’d lose everything.

I smiled sheepishly at once again being entirely too obvious. But I didn’t want to hide what I felt for Sara. It felt wrong to try. Even if the people around me spent their every waking moment suppressing any and all feeling.

Anne glanced at David in the bed. He had opened his eyes when she walked in, but still hadn’t moved. Tears dripped off his nose, leaving a wet spot on his pillow.

“Has he been like this all day?” she asked sadly.

“Yeah. He’s not doing so well.”

“What can I do?” She started to chew on her bottom lip. An anxious gesture that made her seem much younger than eighteen. I looked down at Anne. She was tiny, only coming up to my chin. David, who was much taller than me, towered over her, making them an odd couple. But she had a sweetness about her that was endearing. It was a strength others would overlook. See it more as a weakness. That’s because they didn’t understand that holding onto kindness when you were denied true affection was harder than almost anything.

Anne had gravitated towards David instantly. Seemed to take it upon herself to look after him.

And David opened up to her. He shared pieces of himself that I think he even forgot about. Yesterday he had laughed about his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas. I had learned to appreciate small miracles where my brother was concerned.

But she also knew how bad things were for him. I hadn’t told her much about his past, or why he had sought out The Gathering. But she knew—as they all did—that he was a broken man.

I refused to believe he was beyond repair.

And so did Anne.

I wanted to hug her.

“I honestly don’t know.” I pushed my hair out of my eyes. I normally kept it cut short, but there didn’t seem to be a hair trimmer anywhere at The Retreat. The men all wore their hair as long as the women, as if they were allergic to a haircut. Because of that my dark hair had grown down past my ears. It was the longest it had been since I was fifteen and had been going through my emo douche phase. I wanted to hack it off. I had also grown a weird goatee that was trying to be a beard. My facial hair grew in splotches and was incredibly uneven. It was slow growing and thus I didn’t look full on mountain man yet. It was scratchy. I craved a razor about as much as I craved a decent cell phone connection.

It enraged me that free will was battered away little by little. We couldn’t shave. We couldn’t cut our hair. We weren’t allowed to eat sugar and you could forget drinking a drop of alcohol. I had the feeling Pastor Carter got sick pleasure out of the disciples’ willingness to follow any and every mandate he set. No questions. Like a herd of lemmings scurrying off a cliff. Biting my tongue was proving harder and harder.

I thought about my parents. How worried for both of us they must be. I was able to send a quick text to my mom when we got here, but that was it. There wasn’t a cell tower so there was no reception. And given The Gathering’s aversion to modern technology like computers and Wi-Fi, I couldn’t exactly charge my phone once it died. The only place with electricity was the gathering room and dining hall. And of course Pastor Carter’s house had power. Couldn’t have the wacko tyrant go without lights and hot water.

Anne and I regarded my brother. He stared back at us. His brown eyes were deadened. I couldn’t stand it.

“He should be in counseling. Or taking drugs to stabilize him. I don’t think there’s anything you can do here. Praying doesn’t do shit,” I answered nastily, then felt bad for it when I saw her flinch. “Sorry,” I muttered.

“Praying does help, Bastian. We wouldn’t be here if it didn’t,” she said forcefully. There was steel in that small frame that I had to remember not to underestimate. “You should go to Daily Devotional. It sounds like you need it.”

“I’m not leaving him when he’s like this. You don’t understand how he can get—”

“First of all, don’t talk about him like he’s not here. He’s not deaf. Treat him with some respect,” she scolded me and I felt sufficiently chastised.

“I’m not—I didn’t mean…Jesus.” I felt like shit. She was right.

Anne frowned. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.” She made me feel like a naughty school boy.

“Okay, yeah, sorry.” My brother started to sit up and I rushed over to help him. “Put your arm around me so I can help you.”

He smacked my hand away. “I’m not a kid, Baz. And I’m not an invalid. Back off,” he barked and I grinned. I’d rather him be pissed at me than lying there like he was in a coma. He grunted as he pulled himself upright, as though it took considerable effort. But I didn’t help him. I gave the man his dignity.

His face was pale and gaunt. He wasn’t eating enough. His eyes were sunken and the scruffy beard he had grown made him look like Grizzly Adams. He appeared rough and intimidating, but he smiled at the girl beside me.

“Hi, Anne.” His voice was gruff.

She crossed the room to his bed and sat down beside him.

“How are you feeling?” She took his hand.

“I’ll be fine,” he answered, though not convincingly.

“You need to eat, David. You need to pray. You need to let God heal you.” They sat close, their hands clasped together. Their heads bent towards one another. “Let me get you something to eat,” she offered and he nodded. He took her help. Just not mine. I tried not to be hurt by that.

They whispered together. I made an effort not to eavesdrop. It was becoming obvious my presence wasn’t required. “I guess I’ll go pray now,” I announced. Even though the idea of Daily Devotional had me wanting to throw something.

David didn’t acknowledge me, his eyes glued to Anne, but she nodded. “I’ll stay with David. You go on.”

I didn’t want to leave my brother. But I also could see that whatever Anne was doing worked. David needed what she gave him. I wouldn’t ruin that. Not for anything.

“Okay then. Dave, if you need anything, I’ll be at that clearing, or whatever it’s called.”

“Thanks, Baz,” he replied.

Then he rested his forehead on Anne’s shoulder and that was my cue to leave.

I walked outside and headed towards the clearing where the other members were. Despite how I felt about the group that lived at The Retreat, I could appreciate the place they had claimed as their home.

The Blue Ridge Mountains were beautiful. I wished I had brought the sketchpad and pencils with me. Art was one of my few emotional outlets and for the first month, it had been cut off from me. If it weren’t for Sara’s gift, I’d be totally adrift.

That’s what Pastor Carter did. He separated a person from their family. From their friends. From everything that made them who they were.

And he had the nerve to preach about sin and damnation.

He was confining his “family” to a living purgatory.

A part of me recognized why his words would be appealing to someone who felt isolated from society. A person who had been abused. Who had been ruined. There was hope in believing you were special. That God had a plan. It allowed you to accept the awful things that had happened to you, because better things were waiting.

This small, pocketed group of individuals were all the same. They were looking for something greater than themselves.

It made them easy prey for a savvy predator.

That’s exactly what Jeremy Carter was. I was curious how a man became the leader of a cult—sorry, ‘religious movement.’ But it was hard to learn much about him.

No one seemed to know anything beyond the pretty fairytale he depicted for them. His past was shrouded in something akin to legend. It was claimed he was a solider during the Gulf War. That he had been badly wounded and while he lay, dying in the desert, an angel had come to him. Had told him that the end of days was coming. That he needed to save the worthy. To create a family he could lead to heaven. So, he had abandoned his post and come back to the states. He began living on his grandfather’s land in backwoods Virginia. He built a house and waited for the first of his disciples to find him. And they came. The chosen ones. Those he was destined to take with him at The Awakening.

It was a bunch of bullshit.

You’ve hear one apocalyptic tirade, you’ve heard them all. Pastor Carter wasn’t any different than David Koresh or Jim Jones. His message was the same as those psychopaths before him.

Give everything over to his cause. Your money. Your life. Your free will. And in return he’d show you the way to salvation.

I had the sense that his “message” was dictated by a narcissistic need. To orchestrate a world where he was God.

I looked at Pastor Carter and saw a very mortal man, as far from divinity as you could get. He lusted after very mortal things. Money. Sex. And most of all power. Because these sad, desperate people fed his need for control.

And they let him.

It made me sick.

He most likely had an incredibly tiny dick. There seemed to be some serious overcompensation going on.

I couldn’t hear people tell the tale of the amazing Pastor Carter without wanting to laugh. But to these people, it was absolute and total truth.

They had no idea that they were being fed lies.

Yet, for the time being I was stuck here. I had to play the part, or I had no doubt he’d get rid of me. So, until I could convince David to leave, I would stay.

I stood at the edge of the clearing. Fifty or so people all lay on the damp grass, wearing white. Eyes closed.

It was fucking creepy.

I looked down at my own white ensemble. One of the women had brought us “prayer clothes” not long after we had arrived. White slacks and a white button down shirt. The material was rough and made me itch. Pastor Carter insisted that we throw away our old clothing.

“Do away with all connections to an outside life,” he preached. His mantra was lame as hell.

But I had tossed my pricey Columbia fleece and hiking boots. I kept a pair of jeans and a T-shirt underneath my mattress. They were my escape clothes. Fuck if I was going to step foot outside the gate dressed like I was on my way to be baptized.

My eyes roamed over each of them until I found the person I was looking for.

Sara had never come to dinner last night. And when I knocked on her door afterwards, she hadn’t answered.

I had been upset when I didn’t see her again. I would have stayed outside her door all night just to see her, but I figured that would come across as a bit stalkery.

I had every intention of leaving soon. Of taking my brother and forgetting this place every existed.

Only, now there was her to consider.

I knew I would never be able to forget about Sara. Or leave her behind. Which led to a whole new set of problems. Because I wasn’t sure she would ever leave The Gathering of the Sun. What sort of person was I to expect her to abandon her family? Her whole world?

But I was terrified at the thought of leaving her.

I knew that walking away from her wasn’t a possibility. Not anymore.

Because in spite of the world she grew up in, she retained something that set her apart.

She played the role of devotee. She seemed to be the perfect disciple.

Yet, she wasn’t lying there, with her eyes closed like the others.

She stared up at the cloud covered sky.

I liked that she forced her eyes open.

I gingerly stepped over people, trying not to trounce on someone’s hand. I sank down onto the grass beside Sara. I reached out and touched her hand. Briefly. She didn’t pull away. For only a second her pinkie curled around mine. An acknowledgment.

And when I lay back, I too stared up at the sky.

I refused to close my eyes.

“Where were you last night?” I asked her once we were permitted to speak.

It had been a long three hours. This time I didn’t fall asleep.

But I sure as hell didn’t pray either.

I thought a lot about the girl beside me. Of kissing her again. Of doing normal things with her, like going to the movies. Or walking her to her front door and making out under a streetlamp. Stupid things that in any other situation wouldn’t seem so monumental. But here, it felt impossible.

Sara made me wish for impossible things. And I would fight for them. She was turning me into a warrior.

Sara bowed her head as we filed past the line of older members—the elders. Her mother was one of them. The way she watched me gave me the willies. I definitely got the feeling she didn’t like me.

The elders placed a palm on each of our heads. We were expected to pause and let them bless us or something like that. I simply did what Sara did. I hadn’t bothered to learn the intricacies of their strange practices. I promised myself I’d be gone soon. There was no point in remembering the prayers.

But here I was, a month later, and no sign of leaving…

I watched as she bowed her head for her blessing. I noted the way her mother barely touched her. As if she begrudged her what she freely gave to everyone else. It made me unreasonably angry. I saw how Sara seemed to shrink as she stood before her mother. I hated Ms. Bishop for making her feel that way. I hated her a lot.

Sara didn’t answer me. She acted as though I hadn’t spoken. And when Ms. Bishop put her hand on my head, her nails dug into my scalp.

Sara was heading towards her house when I caught up with her. “Sara, wait,” I called out.

She hesitated, looking around, but most of the other members were still back at the clearing. Finally, she waited for me.

“What happened last night? You never came to dinner.”

Sara shrugged. “I was tired.”

I wasn’t sure if she was feeding me a line, though her eyes were ringed with dark circles, as though she hadn’t slept well.

I followed her along the white graveled path. She looked pretty in her white skirt and simple cotton shirt. I wanted to tell her but didn’t know how she’d respond. Didn’t know how I’d say the words without coming across like a moron.

I had never been so unbalanced by a woman before. Not since I was ten years old and crushing on my sixteen-year-old babysitter. There was something so solemn and serious about Sara Bishop. She seemed much older than me, but at the same time much younger. She was incredibly naïve, given how shut off she was from the rest of the world. But there was something inside of her that craved to know.

The fact that part of her hadn’t died yet in this stifling environment said more about her than anything else.

It was one of the many things I was learning to love about her.

I thought she was going to go to her house, but then she turned left and headed towards the woods. She didn’t slow down but I got the impression I was meant to follow her.

So, I did.

Once we were in the shadowed cover of the trees, she finally looked at me. “I read your book.”

I gaped at her in shock. “All of it?”

Sara nodded shyly. “I couldn’t sleep. I decided to read.”

I grinned, feeling a bit lighter. “Wow, I’m impressed. It took me almost two months to finish it.” I liked the look of pride on her face. “What’d you think?”

She sat down on an overturned log, her hands on her thighs. “I liked it. It was interesting. Honestly, it’s the first book I’ve read in years.”

That admission made me sad. And it made me more determined than ever to take her with me when I left. I couldn’t leave her here to slowly wither away.

“Though Santiago seems like a jerk at times. He gave up on his love for the merchant’s daughter like it was nothing. He completely forgot about her. And then he fell in love with Fatima and everything he refused to give up for the merchant girl, he wanted to give up for the new one.” She made a face of disgust.

“Sometimes people are only meant to come into your life for a little while. And then sometimes they are meant to totally change you. Fatima was his true love. She was his fate. She helped him find his way,” I argued.

Sara rolled her eyes. “Said like an unromantic man.”

I puffed out my chest and put my shoulders back, standing straight and tall. “I’ll have you know, this manly man is incredibly romantic.”

She rolled her eyes again but it was her laugh that had me almost tripping over myself. “Love is love is love. I don’t understand how you can brush off someone only because they didn’t meet some sort of criteria.”

I sat down beside her on the log. It was chilly in the shade but warm enough that I felt over dressed in my heavy shirt. “But true love should never get in the way of enjoying your life to the fullest. It doesn’t stop you from going out into the world and living. If someone is trying to hold you back from being the best you, then in my opinion, it’s not really love. No matter how much it dresses itself up as affection. If someone says they love you but then holds you back, don’t believe them for a second.”

Sara was quiet for a while. I wasn’t sure if she was taking in what I had said, or if she dismissed it outright. I was trying to tell her that these people that claimed to love her didn’t know the meaning of the word.

“Do you have a personal legend?” she asked, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I can relate to it. Of having one single purpose that you can devote your life to.”

My mood soured. I hadn’t wanted reading my favorite book to reinforce any of the crap Pastor Carter shoved down her throat.

“Well, I think there can be multiple interpretations,” I started backpedaling.

“I always thought my purpose in life was to help people. Be a teacher. Or a social worker. Or a doctor. When I was little I made my mom take me to the local nursing home so I could hand out flowers I picked in the garden to the residents,” she chuckled.

I stared at her in wonder. And in surprise. That wasn’t at all what I thought she was going to say. And I was so damn glad she did. I liked being surprised by her.

“I think we would have been best friends when were kids.” I knocked my shoulder with hers.

“Oh yeah?” she cocked her head to the side. “You’re a bleeding heart too?”

I put my hand over my heart. “Certifiable, I’m afraid.”

She let out a sigh. “I sometimes wonder what I would have been if we hadn’t come here.” Her face paled instantly. “I didn’t mean I don’t want to be here. I love being here. I’m completely devoted—”

I put my hand on hers, trying to head off the panic. “It’s okay, I know what you meant. And—” I bumped her shoulder again, trying to make her smile. It worked. Sort of. But it was less heartfelt than before. “It’s okay to think about other directions your life can take. It makes you human. Maybe you should consider that your personal legend is out there somewhere. Waiting for you to find it.”

She didn’t say anything. For the first time since I’d arrived at The Retreat, I didn’t mind the silence.

“I can’t think that way. I belong here. My future is here.” She seemed angry. And incredibly conflicted.

Was she trying to convince me? Or herself?

“Says who?” I challenged. “Pastor Carter? What does he know about what’s in your heart? What your hopes and dreams are?” I felt my own anger rise up to meet hers.

“He’s our leader. Our shepherd. He speaks God’s words…” her voice trailed off as if she couldn’t find the conviction to continue.

“Bullshit,” I snapped.

Sara’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I said that’s bullshit.” I tried to calm myself down. I knew that insulting the venerable Pastor Carter would get me nowhere with Sara. She had been brainwashed from an early age to believe every line of crap he said. I had to go about things a different way if I wanted her to see.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so harsh. All I meant was that you can’t know what your true purpose is unless you experience things. Unless you put yourself out there and figure it out yourself.” I could see her shutting down. I was coming at her too hard—too fast.

“Maybe we could start with something small,” I ventured. Sara looked at me warily. “What’s something you remember from when you were a kid, from before you came here, that you miss?”

Sara gnawed on her lips. I could tell she was agitated. Her knee bounced up and down. She clasped her hands in her lap so tightly I could see the whites of her knuckles.

But she didn’t get up and leave.

She stayed sitting on the log beside me.

It was a small victory.

I half expected her not to answer me. To pretend I never asked her anything. But she didn’t.

“Chocolate chip cookies,” she said softly.

“Really? You haven’t had a chocolate chip cookie since you’ve been here?” I asked incredulously.

“You know we don’t eat sugar. Pastor says it’s a toxin and that our bodies must be clean if we’re to be accepted into heaven.”

“Yeah, I knew you guys didn’t eat sugar, but I didn’t know that was the reason. He can’t be serious?” I started to laugh but stopped myself when I saw the miserable expression on her face. Even though I told myself I’d control my reactions to the ridiculous things I learned about this place, I was still taken aback by the level of control exerted over The Gathering members.

I got to my feet and held out my hand. “Come on then.”

She frowned. “Where are we going?”

“To make chocolate chip cookies,” I told her.

“We can’t. We don’t have sugar or chocolate. Plus, we’d never be allowed—”

“Are you going to tell me there’s nothing in that huge kitchen that we can use to bake something?” I raised my eyebrows.

She was chewing on her lips again. She had made them bleed. The anxiety she was feeling, evident. “Maybe. We bake cakes using honey sometimes. And flaxseed cookies, which are nice. But there’s no way we can use the kitchen without someone seeing us.”

“Then let them see us. There’s nothing wrong with making some damn cookies.” I couldn’t keep the irritation out of my voice. I took a deep breath and when I spoke again, I kept the anger out of my tone. “Look, I’m not asking you to jump off a cliff, only make a batch of cookies. It’ll be fun. Promise.” I gave her my most endearing grin. The one my mother swore got me out of every bad grade—every missed class. I could be charming when I wanted to be.

Sara hesitated but then seemed to make a decision. She got to her feet, her expression determined. “Okay. Let’s go make cookies.” She sounded as though we were going off to war.

“Awesome,” I said as she took my hand. We had started walking back towards The Retreat when I pulled us both up short.

“What is it?” Sara asked with concern.

“Um, do you know how to make cookies?” I asked, seeing the one fatal flaw in my plan.

Sara stared at me long and hard.

And then she started laughing. The kind of laughing that made your eyes water.

It was the best sound in the world.

We pushed our way through the trees. Sara still held my hand. It was such a simple thing, but it spoke volumes. It felt more intimate than kissing her had.

“I wonder what honey cookies taste like…” I started to say when a sound caught my attention.

It was a low keening sound. Like an animal in pain. It grew steadily louder and louder until every hair on my body stood on end.

“What is that?” Sara whispered.

I knew the sound all too well. I recognized it instantly. I dropped Sara’s hand and started running towards the house where David and I were staying. I could hear her footsteps behind me, trying to keep up.

I could see a group of people just outside my door. Anne stood off to the side, hands covering her mouth, tears dripping down her face.

“Anne, what’s going on?” I demanded, out of breath.

“It’s David. I—”

At that moment, I heard him yell. Violent and ugly, it was the sound of someone losing their mind. The group of Gathering members standing outside the door moved aside as Pastor Carter and two other men—Stanley and Clement, of course—came outside, all but dragging my brother. He had collapsed and become dead weight.

I ran to them, my heart pounding so hard in my chest I felt dizzy. “David, are you all right?” I tried to grab my brother’s arm but one of the men pushed me back.

Pastor Carter nodded to Clement and Stanley and they walked him down the steps, not saying a word to me.

“Where are you taking him? David!” I screamed.

Pastor Carter smiled at me, the bastard. “Your brother will be fine. But his outbursts won’t be tolerated here.” The way he spoke—so calmly, so matter-a-factly— made my skin crawl.

I clenched my fists, willing myself not to hit him. I had a vivid fantasy of grabbing him by his greasy ponytail and pummeling his smarmy face. “Where. Are. You. Taking. My. Brother?”

“He will be spending some time in The Refuge. You don’t need to worry about him.” Pastor Carter started to walk away, following the men who were taking my brother off to god knows where The Refuge was.

“Wait!” I started to run after him. I didn’t know what I was going to do but it most likely wouldn’t be good.

A hand grabbed my arm, holding me back. “Stop, Bastian. Just stop.”

Sara’s insistent voice was firm. I tried to shake her loose. “Let go of me, goddamn it!”

She used both hands to pull me to her side. “You’ll only make it worse for David and for yourself. You need to calm down.”

“Where the hell are they taking him?” I asked through gritted teeth.

Sara’s eyes were full of grief. Her lips pressed together fretfully. “The Refuge. It’s where disciples are taken to—” She let out a noisy breath as if too distressed to continue.

“What happens in The Refuge, Sara? Tell me now.”

Her face was unnaturally pale. Her breathing labored. “It’s where we go if we aren’t following the path,” she whispered, closing her eyes. She appeared in agony.

“Have you ever been to The Refuge?” I asked, trying to soften my tone but failing. I could see how stressed she was, but I could only think of one thing. I had to get to my brother.

She nodded. “Many times.”

I didn’t want to hear any more. I could tell that whatever this fucking place was, it was bad. I wouldn’t leave David there. I would get him out. I would do whatever I had to.

“Take me there,” I commanded.

She balked. “I can’t—”

“Please. David needs me. I won’t leave him alone.” I took her hands, covering them with my own. “Please, Sara.” I’d beg on my knees if I had to.

Anne came over, her cheeks tear stained. “I’m so sorry, Bastian. I don’t know what happened.” She started to cry again.

“Start at the beginning, Anne. He seemed better when I left.” I still held onto Sara’s hands. As if losing that physical contact would be my undoing.

“He was doing better. He was even smiling. I had gotten him out of bed. He and I—.” She blushed. I could infer what she wasn’t saying and I didn’t want to hear about what they had been doing. “Pastor Carter arrived. Said he needed to speak to David alone. He asked how he was doing and I told him about how he’d been in bed most of the day but he was up now.”

I could feel Sara’s hands shaking in mine. She was having a visceral reaction and I didn’t know why. But I kept my focus on Anne. “What did Pastor Carter say to him?”

Anne covered her face with her hands, her shoulders heaving. “I don’t know. He made me leave the room. I was standing outside when I heard David cry out. I tried to go back inside but the elders barred the entrance. They wouldn’t let me go to him.”

I was shaking with fury. My suspicions that Pastor Carter was a destructive, malicious man were confirmed. I wanted to kill him.

But I had to play this right. If I wanted to get David away from this awful group, I couldn’t commit murder.

That didn’t mean I would abandon my brother though. I looked back at Sara. She seemed ill. I ran my hand up her arm to cup her cheek. Her green eyes were glassy. Unseeing. As if she were stuck in a memory she couldn’t shake.

“Sara, can you tell me where The Refuge is?”

“You can’t go there, Bastian. We’re not to disturb someone when they’re out there,” Anne argued, her voice trembling.

I took a deep breath and willed myself to calm down.

I wanted to rage.

It would do no good.

I had to be smarter than the ignorant fucks who had dragged off my brother.

“I won’t leave David. He’s been left too many times. He needs me.” No one would stop me from getting to him. From getting him out. “He needs all of us,” I said, the words hitting Anne hard.

She bowed her head, her shoulders sagging. “I’m so sorry, Bastian.”

“Then take me to The Refuge.”

Anne and Sara exchanged a glance. I could tell they had an entire conversation without saying a word. The connection between the two women was intense. And strong. Like the one I had with David.

“Okay,” Anne replied finally.

Sara pulled her hands from my grasp. I wanted to hang on but would never, ever restrain her. She had had enough of that in her life.

“Come on.” She beckoned for me to follow her. The three of us headed for the woods.

We walked for what felt like miles. I had no idea where we were. You see one tree, you’ve seen them all. I was out of breath by the time we climbed down into a small ravine. I could see what looked like a dilapidated wooden shack at the very bottom. It was completely exposed and totally isolated. The shingled roof had gaping holes and the entire structure looked as if it would fall over in a strong wind.

Anne and Sara stopped walking when we were ten feet away. “That’s The Refuge,” Anne said, her voice cracking.

I was horrified. “That’s The Refuge? That piece of shit building?”

“Yes,” was all Sara would say.

“My brother is in there?” I couldn’t believe it. It didn’t look fit for human habitation. And these assholes had stuck my brother out here? Away from everyone?

“I think so.” Anne wrapped her arms around her middle as if she couldn’t stay warm.

I ran to the shack, tripping over rocks in my haste. When I got to the door I noticed that it was closed with a heavy padlock. The kind you needed bolt cutters to break. I tried pulling on the door but it wouldn’t budge. The Refuge may look derelict, but it was pretty structurally sound.

I pounded on the wood with my fists. “David, are you in there?”

It was silent. Too silent. I barely noticed Anne and Sara behind me. “David!” I shouted.

Then there was a rustling, followed by a groan. “Baz?”

I almost sagged with relief. “I’m going to get you out of there!” I yelled so he could hear me. I started looking around for something to break the lock with. I picked up a heavy rock and started to slam it into the metal. It didn’t even dent it.

“Stop it, Baz,” I heard David say. His voice sounded weak and scratchy. As if he had been shouting for a long time.

“No! I’m getting you out of there.” I slammed the rock down onto the lock again and missed, bashing my thumb instead.

“Motherfucker!” I hollered, dropping the rock.

“Baz, don’t.” David sounded as if had moved closer to the door. “Just go away. Please.”

“I won’t leave you in there. What the fuck is wrong with these people that they would lock someone inside this place? All alone out in the middle of nowhere? It’s wrong, Dave. Don’t you see that?” I didn’t care that I was insulting Anne and Sara’s family right in front of them. If they couldn’t see how messed up this was, they were the problem.

My feelings for Sara be damned.

“I deserve this. Go away,” was all David said.

I felt Anne push me to the side, pressing her palms to the door, her cheek to the wood. “You don’t deserve this, David. You did nothing wrong!” she exclaimed, surprising me.

“I do, Anne, I do,” David sobbed from inside. I recognized the sound of that brokenness and it terrified me. It infuriated me. Because Pastor fucking Carter had caused this when he brought him out here.

“You’re wonderful, David. Just the way you are,” Sara said. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re anything less. God loves everyone. Flaws and all.” She didn’t move any closer to The Refuge as if she couldn’t bear being so close to it. But I appreciated her words to my brother. I felt my heart soar even as it shattered.

“Go home,” David pleaded. “I don’t want you here.”

I went to stand beside Anne and Sara came to flank my other side. She was trembling, as though it took all of her strength to be out here. “Then we’ll stay here, David, until they come to get you. You won’t be alone,” Sara promised, her voice wobbling. I could tell how much it cost her. But she was strong. Stronger than even she realized.

And I was incredibly thankful for her and Anne.

I took Sara’s hand and squeezed. She squeezed back.

“How long will he be here?” I asked. Rain had started to fall. A few drops at first and then a cascade of water drenched us.

Sara’s teeth began to chatter, her clothes sticking to her skin. “It could be a few hours. It could be days.”

“Days?” I exclaimed. I looked around. There was nothing out here but trees and rocks. No shelter but for the overhang of The Refuge’s roof.

Sara rubbed her arms, trying to get warm. “I was out here for a week once.”

“A week? God, what did you do to earn a week in this shithole?”

Sara ducked her head, seeming unwilling to answer. Anne put her arm around her friend’s shoulders. “She cried too much. Is that right, Sara?” she filled in.

“Excuse me?” I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly.

Anne glanced at Sara, who lifted her chin. Her expression unflinching. “I didn’t want to be here in the beginning. I wanted to go home. My mom has never been the most patient person. Particularly when it came to me. Pastor Carter—” She paused, her stern demeanor slipping slightly to reveal the slightly broken girl underneath. “He brought me here. He said it was to help me accept my true path. The Gathering of the Sun expects you to forget your past. The present and the future are the only things that matter. Mourning the loss of an old life has no place here.”

“So, they lock you away like a criminal?” Just when I think I’d heard the worst of what Pastor Carter could do, I saw that I had only scratched the surface.

“Not like a criminal. I deserved it. It was to help me,” Sara protested, though I could tell she was starting to doubt what she was saying. She looked at the padlocked door, her lips trembling. She shook her head, her hair falling into her face. “It was supposed to help me.” I could barely hear her.

“It was supposed to help me,” she said again, her voice so small.

Anne said nothing. She only rubbed her friend’s arm, offering the only comfort she could. It wasn’t enough though. Not nearly enough.

“How old were you?” I asked, dreading the answer.

Anne’s eyes were wet. I still couldn’t see Sara’s face. “Nine,” Sara whispered.

I recoiled, taking a step back. I leaned against The Refuge door, my legs threatening to give out from underneath me.

“They’re monsters,” I hissed, fury unlike anything I had ever felt before, seeping out of me. “All of them are monsters. Don’t you see that?” I shouted. I pointed at sky. “No God would want a nine-year-old to be shut out in a shed because they cry too much. Those aren’t holy dictates. That’s human cruelty.”

Sara straightened her shoulders. She pushed her hair back from her face and there was a fierceness in her eyes that gave me hope.

This place had tried to break her. But it hadn’t. Not by a long shot.

And she didn’t argue with me. She didn’t chastise me for my condemnation. For the first time since I had met her she didn’t defend the actions of Pastor Carter and The Gathering.

“We’ll stay with him. As long as it takes,” she said instead, steel in her spine. She sat down on the ground in front of the door. She pulled her knees up to her chest, tucking in her chin to try to shield herself from the worsening weather.

Anne sat beside her, huddling in close. Then I did the same. I shivered, the rain wet on my skin. I wasn’t dressed for a night in the woods. None of us were. But we’d stay.

For David.

Maybe for Sara too. I suspected she needed this as much as my brother.

Hours ticked by. Day gave way to night. And still we stayed.

We spoke to him. He didn’t respond much but I knew he heard us.

And when the elders came back for him the next morning Sara made us hide. I didn’t want to.

I didn’t care if they saw us.

“If you want to help him, you have to pretend, Bastian. It’s the only way,” Sara pleaded.

She was right.

We watched Clement and Stanley unlock the door and drag an unresponsive David back to The Retreat.

Sara put her arm around my waist as we waited for them to leave. I leaned into her. Needing her comfort.

“We’ll save him,” she promised softly in my ear. “We will, Bastian.”

And I believed her.

Because love was greater than blind faith.