Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)
He moved to leave. As he passed me, I grabbed his arm. “You need anything, you go to Vike, Flame or Madds, yeah?”
He nodded and left. I locked my door, then gathered all the shit I knew would be needed over the coming hours. I took a shower and dressed in just a pair of jeans, raking my still-wet hair from my face. Then I pulled a chair to my bedroom and sat down at the end of the bed.
And I waited.
I waited for the detox to begin.
Trying not to let the déjà vu from my past enter my head.
Who was I kidding? There was no fucking chance of that.
So I let my torture begin too.
Blood. Blood, and a fuck-ton of bodies surrounded us. And he was gone. Devin was fucking gone . . .
Chapter Seven
Phebe
“Phebe,” my father called. I ran from my bedroom and into the living room. A man was sitting on the couch. The man was dressed in white and had the blondest hair I had ever seen. Well, except for one other. My Rebekah. But she had gone now. Gone to the prophet’s home to rid the devil from her soul. Soon she would be free from evil, and I would have my best friend and sister back again.
I was counting the days.
“Phebe,” my father said. “This is Brother John.”
“Hello sir,” I said and bowed low. When I had straightened, my father beamed at me.
I smiled.
Brother John rose from the couch and came toward me. He stopped just a few inches away, lifted his hand and placed his fingers under my chin. I looked into his blue eyes as he searched my face. He was smiling at me kindly; I smiled back at him. That seemed to please Brother John, because he nodded and spoke to my father. “She is beautiful. She will make a good Sacred Sister.”
Brother John untied my headdress and pushed it back. My long hair was tied back off my face. He withdrew the pins that held it in place and let it fall around me. It fell all the way to my waist.
“Beautiful,” he said again and ran his fingers through the strands. “Tell me, Phebe,” Brother John asked. “How old are you?”
“I am ten years old, sir.”
“Perfect,” he replied. “And have you yet received your first touch?”
I glanced to my father, who nodded for me to answer. “Yes, sir.”
“She has not been fully broken in, but she has been explored by a brother I am close to, since she was very young. She has the necessary experience.” My heart beat fast as I remembered Brother Abel. The first time I had lain on my bed as he came into my room and removed my clothes. And then he had touched me. He whispered scripture in my ear as his fingers explored my flesh. And then he told me to touch him too. He came back often and did the same things, sometimes more. My father had told me it was God’s will.
“Phebe,” Brother John said, and I blinked. “The prophet has requested you for a special position in our commune.”
Happiness raced through my body, and I smiled with excitement. “Me? The prophet knows who I am?”
“Yes.” Brother John stroked his finger down my face. “And you are to become a very special girl to him and all of the brothers in our faith.”
“I am?”
“Yes. You are to become a Sacred Sister. Do you know what that is?”
“No, sir.”
“It is one of the most important positions in all of Prophet David’s kingdoms.”
I swallowed hard as Brother John slipped his hand into mine. “Come, child. You will stay with me across the commune in a very special place.” I glanced across at my father, and he smiled so big at me. I felt nothing but pride as Brother John led me from my home. Brothers and sisters that I passed waved at me in congratulation. All the time, I thought of our prophet and how lucky I was to have been chosen for a special position.
I would not let him down . . .
My eyes rolled open as a slice of pain cut through my stomach. The light in the room stabbed my eyes, and I called out as its brightness caused my head to ache.
I lifted my hands to my head and tried to stop the throbbing that was beating in my brain. Sweat coated my palms, and I felt my stomach rolling and rolling until . . . I leaned over the edge of the bed to the bucket beside me and purged. I heaved over and over, the awful memory of my youth still playing on repeat in my mind. When there was nothing left to bring up, when the retches became dry coughs, I tried to clear my head from the fog. I was tired, so tired. Then two hands were around my arms, lifting me back to the wet mattress. I shifted my body and felt my legs stick to the linen beneath.