7. Cain
CAIN
They took me to a dark room and slammed the door behind us. It smelled like urine and body odor. There were several weak sounding coughs from whoever else was in here, and even as I fought against the hands that dragged me here, there was no overpowering my captors.
This was my fate.
To be hung up in shame as a penance for my sins. The sin of thinking for myself. The sin of talking back. The sin of questioning their fucked-up methods.
I hated the way Pastor John leered at Delilah as if she was something to be devoured and claimed, not cherished. Hated the way he treated all of us here. But him ordering students to pelt her tired body with water, making her white tank top turn clear was my breaking point.
My hands were snatched from my sides and wrestled into a wide stretch. They tied down my body. Arms and legs bound so tight, I was afraid they were cutting off my circulation. Coffee scented breath hit my face, and I tried and failed to fight against their hold.
“You think you can save her from me, boy?” Pastor John’s words slithered out. “I see the way you look at her. Like she’s yours. I’m warning you right now, stay away from her. Or I’ll have you begging for your life, so help me God.”
He was psychotic.
Fucked in the goddamn head.
“She’s a minor you sick fuck!” I spat out.
My head snapped back with a sickening crack as his hand struck me straight in the jaw. Pain shuddered into my skin, stinging. The taste of blood coated my tongue. I spit out a wad, hoping that it landed on him.
“We’re all children of God,” Pastor John said with a tone that turned my blood cold. “I won’t tell you again. Stay away from her, or I won’t just punish you. I’ll punish her.”
He meant every word. Pastor John wasn’t the kind of person to make idle threats.
No, he liked to watch his punishments unfold, daring you to test him.
To make him exert his authority. His eyes would take on an unholy gleam as he made those around him suffer.
And the most fucked up part? He had the entire staff at Kingston thinking he was holy.
That he was in the right, doing what God would want him to do.
If that’s the kind of thing their God was on board with, then I wanted no part of it.
A fist jutted hard into my gut, rearranging my organs and making me crumple against the wooden cross they’d anchored me to. The pain was so blinding that I wanted to pass out.
The sounds of them leaving filled my ears, and when they opened the door a sliver of light sliced into the room, showing there were at least three other people stuck in the same position as me.
This wasn’t just a punishment. It was psychological warfare. A trump card to pull when you’d colored outside the lines.
Pain bloomed low in my gut, throbbing with each inhale. That fucker better not have broken my ribs. The restraints were too tight for me to do anything, and wiggling only made them tighter.
Thoughts of Delilah floated in my mind. Was she okay?
Was Pastor John punishing her too? He wanted her.
I knew that much. Somehow his brain had done mental gymnastics to make him think it was okay.
But I guess that’s what happens when you have a religion telling you that your sins are forgiven.
It’s basically a green light to act as badly as you want to and ask for forgiveness later.
When you’re told you’re chosen by a higher power, despite how vile your deeds may be, it emboldens the worst of the worst to exist in ways that they feels make them exempt from worldly retribution.
But I would bring that retribution to his doorstep.
Mark my fucking words. Pastor John would pay. And I’d enjoy every single second.
My eyes flew open at the feel of something wet on my lips. I thrashed and coughed. The sound of my cough was garbled and wet and my skin felt unbearably hot.
“Sorry,” Delilah whispered, her fingers threading through my damp hair.
Why was I damp?
“You need to drink something. I was worried you weren’t going to wake up,” she said.
“You can’t… you can’t be here,” I wheezed out. My voice sounded far away, like my head had been plunged underwater. Everything around me seemed to be spinning. Tilting. But my body was still. I was distantly aware that my limbs were tied up, though I couldn’t really feel them there.
At some point I had passed out. From the pain or exhaustion, I didn’t know, but my torso felt like it was on fire and my throat felt like I had swallowed a wad of sandpaper.
“Shh. Drink this,” Delilah said, nudging what felt like a bottle against my dry lips.
Water sloshed over the lid, sputtering against my mouth.
I clumsily managed to get a few needed drops in, drinking it down.
Every pull of my throat was laced with pain that shot down my spine and squeezed around my middle.
“Did he hurt you?” I asked, struggling to breathe. How long had I been stuck like this?
“What? Who? Pastor John? No. I haven’t seen him since class. Why?”
I coughed hard and my entire body seized up in pain.
“You’re really burning up. I think you might have a fever.” Her hand found my forehead. It felt like ice .
“Cain, I need to get you some help,” she said. Worry was laced in every syllable.
“You can’t—” another round of coughs wracked through my body. She might be right. I needed help or I might not wake up the next time I passed out.
“I can. You’re not okay. Stay awake, please. I’ll be right back.” I felt a brief touch of her lips against my cheek, and I wished I could reach out to her. To grab her and tell her to be careful. But I couldn’t move and I couldn’t speak.
My body was failing and I suspected that those hard blows to my middle had something to do with it.
Suddenly, I felt delicate hands pulling at my binds.
The lights turned on and my eyes winced with the rapid shift.
Everything seemed blurry but I could see Delilah, or the silhouette of her off to the side with her arms crossed and that golden halo of hair framing her face.
As she came into focus, I could see how concerned she looked as her eyes scanned the room.
It was far more bleak than I imagined it to be.
Whoever else had been in here with me must have already been removed at some point since the remaining crosses were empty.
Imprints of sweat and other bodily fluids stained the once light wood to have splotches of dark brown and black.
The low ceiling had visible water stains and there were cobwebs hanging from the corners.
I wouldn’t put it past this place to be riddled with rodents as well from how disgusting it looked.
And to top it off, the floor had several puddles of yellowish-brown liquid that could only be one thing.
By some miracle I hadn’t peed my own pants but still, I knew there was something seriously wrong with my body.
As soon as my bindings were removed, I crumpled to the ground and heaved out a stream of bile. It nearly hit the woman’s shoes who’d been so kind to help me.
“Cain, I’m Nurse Jane. I’m going to take you to my office to examine you. Do you think you can walk?”
Did I think I could walk? My vision pitched as I attempted to stand, but by sheer force of will, I compelled my legs to move underneath me and held onto her sharp shoulder for support.
She had a sturdy frame for someone so small.
It was the kind of muscle that boasted a regular workout routine.
Maybe she did CrossFit. If she was able to hold my weight up, she could easily toss a large tire without breaking a sweat, I’d bet money on it.
She shouldered my weight, and somehow, I was putting one foot in front of the other.
“Go back to your room, Delilah, and I won’t report you,” Nurse Jane said. There was a silent ‘this time’ that hung in the air as Delilah gave me one last look, squeezed my hand with her frozen digits, and scurried away.
I hoped she didn’t get caught.