Chapter Nine #2
“Prophet said if you wanted to run twenty miles, we should help you do it.” The asshole pulls a length of rope from his saddle bag, as casual as if he were about to tie down a bale of hay.
“We’ve been followin’ you for a couple hours now.
I reckon we coulda’ let you go on for a little longer, but the storm’s rough, and it ain’t fair to the horses. ”
The light wavers as Vincent swings his leg over the side of Bonnie, his favorite mare. She shakes her head and paws at the wet ground, her gentle eyes on me like she knows what’s about to happen won’t be good.
Vincent grabs me and hauls me to my feet. I thrash, weak as I am, but he pins my arms in front of me easily.
“Get y-your f-fucking hands off m-me,” I scream. I’m so cold, my teeth chatter, but fury keeps me from cowering—from giving in completely.
“Swearing, Nova? After all Prophet’s given you? Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Malone says. He loops the rope around my wrists, snug and merciless, then ties the other end to his saddle.
“No,” I whisper, horror clawing at my throat. He wouldn’t be so cruel—
The sound that tears from my lungs isn’t a scream. It’s the death of every prayer. Every good thing I’ve ever known. Every small shred of hope I’ve clung to these past months.
Another bolt of lightning illuminates Malone’s grin a second before his fist slams into my stomach.
I collapse, fingers clawing uselessly at the muddy soil as if it can somehow protect me from what’s coming.
From the pain.
The humiliation.
The box.
The men mount their horses.
I have to get up. If I don’t…
With a soft chi-chi, Malone urges his horse forward a couple of steps. The rope pulls taut, and my shoulders beg for mercy.
“Please!” I gasp. “D-don’t…d-do this!”
Malone chuckles. “I’d get a move on if I were you, Nova. Or I’ll let Thunder drag you ‘til your shoulders pop clean out. You’ll live. But you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
I force my legs under me. Somehow, I rise, trembling, swaying, but on my feet. The rope burns as I wrap it around my hands, a desperate attempt to hold on—to keep myself from the worst of the pain.
“You’re a sadistic asshole,” I scream into the wind. “And my name is Grace!”
Neither man scolds me for swearing. Not this time. And that scares me more than anything.
Hoods pulled low against the storm, they dig their heels into their horses’ sides.
Malone gives me one last glance over his shoulder.
“Time to see how fast you can run, Nova.”
Mud clogs my throat. Scratches at my eyes. My mouth tastes like blood and grit.
“I’m gonna count to five, Nova,” Malone taunts. “One. Two…”
I stagger upright, searing pain shooting from my right knee all the way up to my hip. Blood drips from the deep welts around my wrists. Through my tears, I catch sight of the houses beyond the next rise. The faint glow of the morning sun behind us casts the compound in an eerie reddish light.
It stopped raining somewhere along the way. I don’t know when. Time is gone. Stolen by a sea of endless pain. I fall. Again.
The first time, the sharp edge of a rock tore my cheek open. Another, I dislocated my knee. Vincent held me down while Malone shoved it back into place. I screamed until my throat was raw.
At least once, I blacked out. When I came to, I was on my back, being dragged across a soggy meadow of slick mud and sharp stones, my body bouncing like a rag doll. My dress is ripped to shreds. The brisk wind burns my raw skin.
“P-p-please.” My teeth chatter so violently, I can barely form the words. “I n-need a m-minute.”
“You’ll get what you need as soon as you’re standin’ in front of Prophet. Until then, keep runnin’.” Malone spurs Thunder to take off at a slow trot.
I never ran this fast when I was training. But the terror of being dragged—again—is enough for me to try. Even if every step brings me closer to a punishment I’m sure will make this look like a walk in the park.
My chest caves in with the crushing weight of dread. Zeke waits by the box, surrounded by all of his senior clerics. Nolan, Richie, Ollie, and Harold form a grim wall of gray–shirted muscle behind him.
Malone jerks the rope from Thunder’s saddle. I collapse at Zeke’s feet.
“I’ve been too lenient with you, Nova,” Zeke says, shaking his head slowly. “You think I’m an idiot?”
“No, Prophet.” I force myself to look up at him. If this is the last time I have the strength to resist, I’m going to do it with my whole heart. “I think you’re a delusional, sadistic fuck.”
His kick catches me in the hip, and I see stars.
“You spent five days in the box once.” Zeke passes a set of keys to Nolan. “This time, it will be ten.”
“I’ll f-freeze to d-death, asshole. You’re just p-proving my p-point. Or d-don’t you care about your p-precious sacrifice any more?”
If I weren’t already terrified, Zeke’s laugh would chill me to my core.
“The box has heat, Nova. Just enough to keep you alive.” He grips the rope still knotted around my wrists and drags me inside like a bag of trash. I barely notice the pain.
Ten days without food or sleep…I won’t survive it. This…will be the end of me.
“Prophet, I have the MREs you asked for.” Joshua stands in the doorway with three silver pouches clutched to his chest. His gaze lands on me and, for one fleeting second, I think he might actually feel a shred of pity.
Zeke points, and Joshua throws them into the corner. “I suggest you ration these carefully, Nova. The water too. You will not get more.”
The door slams shut. The lock clicks.
I can’t move, my wrists still bound, staring at the food I won’t have the strength to eat. The speakers rumble to life, and I realize…I don’t even have the strength left to cry.