Page 13 of Kings Fear No One
She takes her time acknowledging me. Her eyes are cast to the floor. Her ample chest shakes from the deep breath she draws in then releases.
Up close, I notice what I hadn’t before—the tiny cut at the corner of her lip and the hints of purple blended into the bruise on her cheek. Her dress is torn and tattered and her nails caked with dirt. She looks like hell like the rest of us.
Except for the gold cross hanging around her neck. Bright and intact more than anything else in the room.
I swallow against the stiffness in my throat and ask, “You alright?”
Her bottom lip quivers and the next breath she takes in sounds torn. She’s trying her hardest not to cry.
“Hey,” I say. My fingers slip under her chin and tip her head up. “You alright?”
Tears blur her vision. “Y-ye… ye-yes.”
“It’s going to be alright,” I say. “You’ve just got to count the days.”
“For… what?”
“For when we get out of here. You’ll escape with me.”
I drop my hand from her chin and then return to wiping down my boots. I pick up the rag I’ve been using and then feel her stare from across the room. The bloodied corner of Teysha’s mouth quirks before it’s gone. The quickest, smallest hint of a smile I’ve ever seen.
But damn it. I’ll take it.
“What a joyous occasion!” Saint Crystal cries out at the dinner table. She clasps her hands together, eyes shining with tears. “I am grateful for the love our Leader gives us.”
The others nod their heads and sip their wine. Those who are allowed seats at the main table.
The rest of us sit in chairs on the outskirts of the room. We’ve been given paper plates of a single slice of deli ham and American cheese. Otherwise known as the closest thing to a meal most of us have had in forty-eight hours.
But it wouldn’t be captivity if we weren’t kept down in different ways.
Sometimes that’s physical beatings. Other times it’s starvation or isolation. It’s backbreaking labor and squalid living conditions. It’s everything at once.
I got used to the idea my clothes would always hang off me here a long time ago. And though I’m still a man of intimidating stature, I’ve lost half the power I once had.
Whittled down to the point of going invisible.
It’s what we’re subjected to as we wipe clean our paper plates. We obediently watch the Leader and his Saints enjoy a long, gut-busting meal. The smells of garlic and butter linger in the air, clawing away at the barren insides of my stomach.
It’s past the point of gurgling.
Teysha’s on my right. She’s hardly touched her ham and cheese. Her eyes have filled with tears again as she stares ahead at the dinner table. The ceremonial aspect of these dinners seem to bother her most.
Some disturbance to her spirit.
I grit my teeth and turn my head straight too. We’re in the front row, and the Leader has been in a mood all day. Several of the Saints, like Crystal, have picked up on it and decided to shower him with praise. Nobody wants to be the one he takes his frustrations out on.
He swirls the wine in his glass, his eyelids low. “Yes, well… you should all be inherently grateful you have been blessed to be part of my family. I have welcomed you with open arms despite your flaws.”
Teysha sniffles, then wipes her face with the back of her hand.
“Shhh,” I hush.
But her tears can’t be turned off. A few more roll down her cheeks, and she presses her lips together to keep from making a sound.
The main table falls silent as the Leader glances into the audience of believers. He picks us out at once, his icy glare landing right on us.
“Believer Logan, do you and your wife have something to say? Would you like to participate in tonight’s dinner?”
