Page 343 of Eternal
“Emily,” I say, soft.
She lifts her chin, tears glassing over her eyes but none fall. “You don’t need to say it. I survived. Not all of them did.”
She pushes the napkin further across the table, and I see more writing now, not only an address, names, coded titles. Brother John. Overseer T. Wolsh. Mother Hanna. The Holy Room.
“I’ve heard whispers about the Holy Room,” she says. “It’s where they take the favorites.”
I ask, carefully, “Were you ever…?”
“No.” Her voice hardens. “But I saw girls come out of there and never say anything ever again. And no one asked questions.”
There’s a long silence. I look at her, really look.
Faith…
“I always thought maybe God left,” she says softly. “Like he saw what happened and then… stopped watching. But sometimes, I wonder if he was waiting for people like us to come back, to burn it all down.”
I sit back. The napkin feels heavy in my hand.
“You’re brave,” I tell her.
She scoffs. “I’m terrified.”
“Stillbrave.”
She looks at me. “If you go there… don’t go alone. And don’t trust the ones who say they left. They didn’t. Not really. Once you wear that mask long enough, it starts looking like your face.”
“When you go back home today, I’m going to need you to be really careful, Emily. And if you ever feel like you’re in danger, or anything, you can always use the number I called you with.”
She leans forward.
“Okay.”
“Thank you,” I say. And I mean it more than I’ve meant anything in years.
She nods. And just as I get up to leave, her voice stops me. “Hey,” she says. I turn. “Don’t lose yourself in this. Don’t let revenge become your faith.” Her fingers brush the cross at her neck again. “I hope you get justice. But I hope you get peace too. You can’t pray for revenge.”
“Too late for that.”
She smiled and said one last thing, “Be careful.”
She doesn’t say anything else, she simply watches me for a long second like she’s trying to figure out if I’ll survive what I’m walking into.
I don’t have the heart to tell her I’ve already survived worse.
I leave her with a nod and swing back onto my bike, helmet strapped tight like armor. The engine roars to life beneath me, steady and loud. The only thing drowning out the voices trying to claw their way up from inside.
This is God’s will. You’re impure. Let me cleanse you.
His voice. Her stupid indifference. That fucking house. That cross swinging from his neck, against my forehead.
I twist the throttle harder than I need to.
This is God’s will.
I need… I need to breathe. I need to breathe now.
I park urgently in some side street downtown. Empty. Quiet. Hot wind slicing through my jacket. The alley smells like piss, but I need it.
