Page 30 of Penance

As she passes by my hiding place, once again I could reach out, grab her, claim her right here, right now. But that’s not the game we’re playing. No, my little lamb needs to be isolated, cut off from the herd.

She needs to be alone to need me.

Chapter 7

Mercy

Ihurry down the sidewalk, the evening air crisp and chilling my tear-streaked cheeks. After church and Sunday brunch—which I struggled to eat a single bite of—there is not much of the short fall day left to guide me home.

The weight of my guilt and fear presses down on my shoulders, and I feel like I’m going to collapse under the weight.

How long can I keep my secret?

Days?

Weeks, maybe.

Months?

No way, it will be too obvious by then.

The life I once knew now seems distorted, a painting smeared by an angry hand. Each step forward feels like a descent into the unknown, the familiar streets now alien and cold.

What did I do to deserve this?

Why do I deserve this pain? This uncertainty?

Once again, my hand falls to the bottom of my belly, pressing lightly.

Dr. Thompson called this morning. I have an appointment in a week, and they’ll do an ultrasound.

Maybe it’s not true.

Maybe it’s a tumor.

I can only hope.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention, and my heart slams in my chest. I can hear footsteps behind me, following me. I strain my ears, listening as I slow my own stride.

Someone is following me, I think, my breath hitching in my throat. I can feel it, like a whispered touch along the nape of my neck.

There is someone there.

I quicken my pace, my feet moving swiftly over the uneven concrete slabs.

Lord, protect me,I pray silently.

Maybe it’s the man who has been breaking into my apartment at night, the man who raped me.

The thought brings a fresh wave of bile that climbs up my throat, and I fight to swallow it back.

I duck sharply into a narrow alley, the sudden shift in direction sending my heart lurching against my ribs and my breath catching in my throat. The cool brick wall meets my back, rough as I press myself against it. My chest heaves with shallow breaths, and I’m fighting to keep them soft, silent.

But I’m failing, and I know it.

I suck in a shaking breath, a hand pressed to my chest.

Mother raised me to be strong. She didn’t raise me to be a fawn. She raised me to stand up to evil, to stare it down with God’s light at my back.

---