Page 130 of Decimation

My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat. “No,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “No, no, no.”

Gabriel drags me toward the altar, his grip unrelenting. I fight with everything I have, kicking and screaming, but it’s no use.

Zayn wheels into the room, his expression unreadable. “This is necessary, Leandra,” he says, his voice cold. “You must be purified. You must be tested and made worthy.”

“I’m not going through with this!” I shout, my voice cracking. “You can’t make me!”

Gabriel forces me face first onto the altar, his hands pinning me down. I thrash against him, but it’s no use. His grip is like iron, his strength overwhelming.

Zayn wheels closer, his dark eyes fixed on me. “This is your test,” he says, his voice low and menacing. “Your soul must be inspected, must be purged of its sins.”

Tears stream down my face as I struggle against Gabriel’s grip while he rips away all my clothing, while he strips me naked.

“No!” I scream again.

I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this.

Zayn starts moving, wheeling around, tying my wrists, binding them to metal bars that come up out of the stone like spears.

Gabriel begins to chant a haunting tune. The words are unfamiliar, ancient, and his hot breath on my skin sends a shiver down my spine.

I kick out, I try to pull my limbs back, but it’s two against one and I don’t stand a chance.

Once I am bound, stretched, and entirely unable to move, Zayn rocks back on his wheels. Gabriel gets up and stands beside him, staring at me.

“B’ṣelmeh d’mārān nethḥazzē, w’b’ṣebyonēh nethdakkē.” Zayn says, and those words put the literal fear of God into me. He’s speaking Aramaic, the language of God, the language of our ancestors. I’m not meant to know it, to understand it, but I do. My mother taught us, taught me and my sisters and made sure we’d never tell a soul about it.

In the image of our Lord, we are remade, and by his will, we are purified.

No. No. I will not do this, I will not…

Zayn reaches for something on the altar, and my eyes fix on the movement as his hands close around a long, curved blade.

My heart stops. My body locks up.

“No,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Please, no.”

Zayn raises the blade, staring right back at me. “This is your test,” he says, his voice just as calm, just as assured as he was back in the bedroom. “Your soul must be purified.”

Gabriel is suddenly holding a torch, and he angles it out so that the flames lick at the edge of the weapon. I stare in horror as the metal starts to glow.

Then the blade descends, and I can feel the awful heat of it before it even touches my flesh.

I scream. I scream and I scream and I scream.

The pain is sharp, searing, and my body feels like it convulses. My limbs fight against the rope holding me down, and I feel my skin tear.

My vision blurs, and the room spins around me.

The last thing I see is Zayn’s cold, unfeeling eyes as he leans over me. Then, everything goes black.

Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.

I scream those words in my head, I think I scream them out loud too.

Pain is everywhere. Radiating from my back, searing through my nerves like a wildfire. My skin feels like it’s been stripped away entirely. I try to move, but my wrists and ankles are bound too tightly, and the ropes have cut into my flesh so much that they’re covered in blood. My breath comes in shallow gasps, each inhale sending a fresh wave of agony through my body.

I blink, and my vision is blurred by both tears and sweat.