Page 36 of A Silence So Divine

“Where you goin’? It’s rude to walk away from someone when they’re talkin’ to ya, ya know. Didn’t your daddy teach you any manners?” He tsks, and loosens his grip enough for me to jerk my arm free. It didn’t hurt, but it was a warning.

“Now, why don’t ya tell me where ya came from? This house here,” he motions to our home a good fifty meters away, “is cursed. Pretty girls like yourself shouldn’t be wandering around these parts. Ya never know what evil is waitin’.” Despite the eerie words he’s spouting, his sneer borders between amused and corrupt.

The longer my silence, the more his suspicion grows. Eyes narrowed, he passes his weapon back and forth between large hands. He’s not much taller than I, but what he lacks in height he makes up for in weight.

The chances of me being able to fend him off is slim.

“Wait a minute.” He snaps his fingers. I flinch. “Are you one of them no-talkers?” As he says it, his face lights up like he’s a lion and I’m a gazelle that stumbled into his cave.

Denying it is futile, so I choose to lift my chin and hold his stare.

“I’ll be, the Brothers’ll be thrilled when I come back with you.” He says it so casually, like he isn’t talking about abducting me.

My pulse skyrockets, and my only option is to race to the house.

I only make it one step before his grip is in my hair, pulling my back flush against his front. The gun clatters at our feet, and his free hand goes around my midsection. I squirm, but his body is like steel against mine, completely immovable. My breath comes as quick gasps, and I try with all my might to rip his hold from my hair.

The feel of lips against my ear has me shuddering. “I meant it when I called you a pretty thing. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes before the others can get their hands on you. A mercy of my own. How’s that sound?”

Both fates are unfathomable.

My muscles burn as I twist and writhe, unable to get even an inch between the two of us. With dwindling strength, I pause to try and gather my wits.

He must take my stillness as compliance, because as soon as I stop moving, he’s dropping his hand to the hem of my dress and sliding it up my thighs.

I begin fighting like a wild thing, tossing my head back in hopes it’ll make contact with his nose, bucking my hips and clawing at the knuckles on his hands. My feet are swept from beneath me. The air is forced from my lungs as my cheek is pressed firmly to the damp Earth. Twigs and burrs scratch at my flesh, and the cold air against my backside is my only warning that he has pushed my dress up to my hips.

The rough hand in my hair forces my head down, my neck screaming as I fight to lift it. His weight makes it nearly impossible for me to breathe, and the adrenaline coursing through my veins has me losing feeling in my hands and feet.

A calloused palm runs up the back of my right thigh and begins prying it from the other. Ringing fills my ears. My mouth drops open.

All the fear and fury that has been trapped within is suddenly pouring out of me with my voice as the conduit.

I scream, and scream, and scream.

An invisible fire consumes me from the inside out, and the weight on my back shifts just enough for me to flip underneath him. His fingers find my throat, but it doesn’t do any good. He has lost.

My hands grip each side of his head. Blood vessels in his eyes burst one by one, contrasting to the milky blue of his irises. A beautifully grotesque juxtaposition.

Every fiber of my being is uncontrollable, and I can’t form a coherent thought. All I’m aware of is the gruesome sight before me. Blood pours from every orifice on his head, dripping into my face. It’s all I can smell, all I can see, all I cantaste.Overhead, buzzards circle, eager for the carrion that’s soon to come.

All at once, the man goes limp. My arms tremble with the effort to keep his body from crushing mine. With one desperate shove, he slumps beside me. The moment I’m free, my mouth clamps shut.

Everything is still.

Pushing myself into a seated position, I wipe haphazardly at my face. My hands are covered in crimson as well, and I only smear the blood around instead of ridding myself of it.

With a dead man beside me—the man Ikilled—you think I’d be frantic. But I hardly feel anything. There’s a niggling thought of what Creed’s reaction might be. He’ll be terrified of the situation, but mostly of me. How could I have ever thought that anyone would love me and I could love them in return?

Dangerous, delusional little girl.

With a blink, my mind shuts off, and I slip away.

Sixteen

Cecil

The drawl of the Reverend drones and I fight to keep my eyelids from falling. It’s Monday, the day we all gather in the Great Room of the Sanctuary, and I’m forced to disguise my boredom and disgust for obedience and intrigue.