Chapter 40 #2
My head spun in panic when my father grabbed a red kerosene container. He tipped it forward. Kerosene fell from the yellow nozzle, splashing onto the floor. He soaked the pews next, going row by row.
My chest suddenly seemed too tight as the sharp smell of oil filled the chapel. I wheezed out a breath when he struck a match and dropped it onto the floor.
At the sound of another match strike, I darted my gaze to my mother just as she tossed it onto a pew.
Then he flicked another while she did the same.
Small fires started near the front of the room, blocking anyone from moving toward them.
No one even tried to move anyway. No one screamed. No one did anything as my parents turned around and walked toward his small office.
For a moment, I didn’t either.
The way they started the fires made sure no one could run to the office without going through the flames.
Kerosene fed the hungry flames, and they leaped from pew to pew, spreading fast.
Wood cracked and popped.
Within seconds, the fire had taken over the entire nave and was spreading toward us.
Heat spread through the room, and I fell back a step. Smoke covered the ceiling, caving in toward us, and people coughed.
Again, no one moved. I overheard a few people praying.
They wanted this. They were willing to die for the fraudster.
Children started crying, and smoke filled my lungs. The first cough that left me was my wake-up call.
I turned around, ran for the door, and pain shot down my arm when I rammed my shoulder against it.
It didn’t budge.
I backed up again, hitting someone with my body, and slammed into the door harder this time.
Nothing.
The next time, I threw as much weight as I could against it, but again, I couldn’t break that crossbar.
“What are you doing?” a woman yelled at me.
“Breaking out!” I screamed, waving them over so similar to how my father had. “Help me!”
More children were crying. Some parents clutched them close while others just stared at the fire, transfixed by the flames.
“We can’t!” another woman cried out. “We have to go with the Divine!”
“You go ahead with the Divine then,” I said, staring at her like she’d lost her damn mind. “Some of us don’t want to do that.”
“But you’ll burn in hell.”
I motioned toward the fire around us, hearing more people cough at the smoke. “We’re burning right now!”
I slammed my shoulder into the door again, and this time, I felt a slight budge. Something had cracked in it.
Looking over my shoulder, I noticed the flames coming closer.
I wouldn’t die here. Wouldn’t die for him. Wouldn’t let these people die for him.
My father might’ve been okay with these people’s blood on his hands, but I wasn’t.
More people struggled to breathe as the temperature spiked. The smoke made some of them realize they weren’t ready to die for my father.
I coughed as I kept fighting the door until, finally, two teen boys grabbed a pew that hadn’t caught fire yet.
“Here! Come help!” they called out to me.
I nearly tripped over my feet as I ran toward them.
Two more men helped us. When one follower tried to fight them, saying they were turning their backs on the Divine, another punched him in the face.
From behind me, I heard one follower whisper to another, asking why my father hadn’t left his office when hearing this commotion.
“It’s because he’s probably not in there!” I screamed.
“Liar!” a man shrieked.
“Walk through the flames and check yourself, then!” I yelled back, refusing to give him any more attention because I needed to get us the hell out of here.
I ignored their fighting, ignored those pleading with me not to ruin what was right, while we kept ramming the pew against the door.
Splinters of wood came off, and we didn’t stop until two boards busted open.
We kicked the weak boards down, creating enough space for us to escape the chapel. Smoke burned my lungs with every move, but I never gave up.
I grabbed the boy’s and girl’s hands, whose father had called me a liar, and ran out with them. The teen boys did the same, each grabbing the remaining children, even when their parents tried to pull them back into the burning building.
“Mama!” the little girl I pulled out wailed, trying to run back into the chapel, but I wouldn’t allow it.
I hugged them tight, watching and smelling the fire take over the building with the people my father had betrayed.
And from the corner of my eye, while I held the crying children, I saw my parents running across the field.
My words were said through broken sobs, and by the time I was finished telling Enzo about the fire, his chest was soaked as he held me close. He stroked my shoulder, my back, my neck, all in an effort to comfort me as I broke down in his arms.
I’d only told the story two other times.
Once to the detectives and once to the jury that convicted my father.
Never in my life had someone held me like this. Let me cry out my nightmares without punishment. Made me feel like I actually mattered.
I sniffled, gulping in large bursts of air, then finally pulled away from Enzo. For a moment, I couldn’t look him in the eyes. There was too much shame inside me because I hadn’t saved everyone.
Enzo stood, left the room, and returned with a box of tissues. I brought my knees to my chest as he wiped my eyes with one and then used another under my nose.
He squeezed my knee again while sitting. I immediately climbed back into his arms, turning so my back was against his chest.
“When the police arrived, I told them what had happened and pointed them in the direction of where my parents had gone.” I went on because I wanted Enzo to know me, wanted him to know I was trustworthy.
“They’d climbed through the window in the office.
The police found them behind the shed they used to keep me in and arrested them. ”
Enzo stayed quiet, not asking any questions.
“Later, my father insisted my mother hadn’t wanted to escape and he’d forced her against her will. Being his wife, she was shielded from testifying against him and refused to give a statement. The police needed someone to testify against him.”
“And that someone was you,” he said.
I nodded slowly. “That someone was me.”
“What happened?”
“He received a life sentence.”
“Should’ve gotten death,” Enzo said under his breath.
“By the time sentencing was over, the judge gave him another life sentence.”
“Why was that?”
“My father asked to read an apology letter to the victims, and the judge allowed it. In that statement, he stared at me the entire time. He said he regretted not drowning me in the river, and if he ever was freed, he’d find the nearest one and keep me underwater until he could no longer stand.
“The feds sealed my records in exchange for my testimony. For some reason, the federal prosecutor had instructed the police to withhold the details of what had happened from the media. They said it was to protect the other younger victims and me. Social media was practically nonexistent back then, so nothing about it ever went public.”
“And your mom?”
“She quickly remarried a rich man, who paid off those who had survived to never breathe a word of it and then made them sign NDAs. Most of the people who’d died didn’t even have families to report their deaths because my father had preyed on those who felt alone or were homeless.”
“You still speak to your mother, though? And your stepfather?”
“We don’t exactly speak. She called me a traitor for testifying, but she likes to keep me close and cared for. She’s worried I’ll tell people about what she did. That’s how I ended up at Saint Vale. They still wanted to control where I was but not have me around.”
My shoulders sagged as all the tension that’d been bottled up inside my body collapsed.
“That’s my truth, Enzo,” I whispered. “I’m everything you hate.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed me tight. “What do you mean?”
“I testified against my father. That first day I met you, you called me a rat. It was said as a threat. You also murdered Jett because he was one.”
Why I’d been keeping this such a secret finally dawned on him.
He shook his head violently. “There’s no comparison to you and Jett. And technically, I didn’t kill Jett. He succumbed to his injuries.”
I tipped my head back on his shoulder at that remark and shouldn’t have found that devilish smile that formed on his lips to be adorable. But I did.
And at that moment, I was happy I’d told Enzo.
Happy I’d finally let it all out.
I had no one to speak to about this.
I tried to contact those who’d helped me break down the door on social media, but they always blocked me. No one wanted to speak about it. Not that I blamed them. Revisiting an ugly past was never easy.
Enzo’s phone rang, and I jumped at the sudden noise.
“Shit,” he said, climbing out from behind me. “Normally, I’d ignore this, but given—”
“No, take it.”
He checked the caller and answered, “Yeah.” He nodded a few times. “How far out? Okay. We’ll be outside waiting.”
After ending the call, he looked at me. “Emeri is driving you back to the university. I want you to go to the Fawn Quarters and stay there until I come get you.”
“I can’t stay here?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but you’ll be safe down there. I promise.”
I’d created a bond with Enzo that I’d never had with anyone else.
A blood bond, one that couldn’t be broken even if I tried to run.
I was done being a scared Fawn.
I was ready to embrace my role.
“Stay down here,” Emeri said when he reached the Fawn Quarters. He started to leave, but then stopped suddenly. “And here’s your phone. Enzo said to make sure you stay in touch with him.”
His hand was cold when I took my phone from him.
He disappeared up the stairs and left.
During the drive here, he hadn’t said a word to me. I sat in the passenger seat of his black Camaro, anxiety getting the worst of me. While I’d told Enzo my darkest secret, I hadn’t told him all of them yet. I would eventually.
The other two times I’d been in the Fawn Quarters before I was with Enzo, and while he’d given me a tour, I hadn’t had time to explore. I decided to do that now.
My first stop was the kitchen, which was fully stocked with food and drinks. I grabbed a yogurt and juice and sat at the table to eat.
After licking my spoon clean, I rinsed it off in the sink, stuck it in the dishwasher, and walked down the hall toward the library.
Enzo had said there were Fawn diaries down here. I’d spend my night reading them.
The library was at the end of the hall. Tall bookshelves lined the dark wood-paneled walls, filled with books about Saint Vale’s history, about the men who had founded the university, and some classic literature.
I wandered over to a small shelf in the corner, settled beneath a large canvas painting of a young fawn standing alone in a snowy clearing.
I ran my hand over the soft brushstrokes of the fawn’s fur.
My hand moved, tracing the painted pink blossoms on branches surrounding the fawn.
The fawn’s eyes were dark, as if it were watching me, as if warning me.
Lowering my gaze, I saw the worn leather journals lined across the shelf. I ran my fingers along the blank spines before pulling one free. I opened it and found a year written inside the front cover beside the Fawn’s symbol.
I flipped through that one, and then another’s, and another’s.
Some of them even had pictures of the Fawn who owned it. Some with them with other Fawns. But none with pictures of the Sons.
I collected a stack of the diaries, headed back to my room, collapsed on my bed, and opened the top one.
With each diary I read, I felt like I was meeting the Fawns.
They were filled with pieces of their lives, advice for younger Fawns, and the different rules and Initiations.
The more I read, the more I felt as if I almost knew them.
I turned page after page, reaching for another diary each time I finished one.
Until one stopped me cold.
My breath caught as I stopped on a page, certain I was dreaming, as I stared at a photo of my mother.