Chapter Twenty-Two
Amelia
I don’t know how long it’s been. Hours, maybe.
The truck rattles over the bumpy roads, making the chains bite harder into my wrists. My arms scream from being held in the same position for too long. Everything hurts. My legs, folded beneath me, have long since stopped tingling, they just ache, stiff and useless.
Across from me, Linda hasn’t moved. Blood mats her hair, a dark trail running down her temple where the chain snapped back into her skull. I did that.
I press my lips together, swallowing the swell of nausea. I can’t afford guilt. Not when she’s the reason I’m in this goddamn truck, being dragged into what can only be described as a nightmare.
This woman, this sick, pathetic excuse of a person, took everything from me. My freedom. My future. My goddamn life. She would have watched me burn.
What I did to her was survival.
I’d beg if I thought it would help. I’d scream and claw at the partition separating me from the drivers if I thought it would change a damn thing.
But I know better.
I know what’s waiting for me.
The truck jerks to a violent stop. I lurch forward, and the chains nearly rip my arms out of their sockets. It feels like my shoulders are being wrenched apart, like the bones in my wrists are grinding together.
I can’t take this anymore.
A sob bursts out of me before I can stop it. I break.
I don’t want to die.
I still haven’t told Damien that I love him.
Please, please, please, Damien.
Save me.
Save me.
The truck doors creak open, daylight spilling in like a taunt. The air is cold, but the hands that grab me are colder.
The man clicks his tongue in disapproval when he sees an unconscious Linda.
“Untrained little thing.” Fingers curl around the chains, tugging them sharply. “Don’t worry. That’ll be fixed soon enough.”
A fresh wave of terror slams through me as I’m yanked out of the truck and I see every face I’ve ever known. Familiar faces. Faces I grew up with.
They’re sitting around a roaring fire, waiting.
The men drag me forward easily. My body has gone limp. I have nothing left to fight with. They force me onto my knees, my bones jarring against the dirt.
The people look at me with rage, with disgust, with hate. At that moment, I know they don’t just want me to die, they want me to suffer.
A hush falls over the village.
Elder Gideon steps forward.
His beard is long and gray, his withered face showing nothing but satisfaction. Beside him stands Elder Tobias, shorter, rounder, with a small, sick smirk on his face and eyes that gleam with pure evil.
Gideon raises his arms. “With this girl’s return, we are granted an opportunity. An opportunity to right what was wronged.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd; voices of agreement and praise.
Elder Tobias steps closer, crouching until he’s at my level. He smells like damp wood and rotting fruit.
“With this girl back,” he continues, “we can finally amend our sins to the Hellkeeper. He will have two sacrifices in one year. One was a girl pure and innocent as snow. And the other—” He grips my chin, forcing my head up. “A wretch who will serve as a warning. An example of what happens to those who run from their duty.”
A cheer erupts.
They’re celebrating my death.
I try to rip my face away, but Tobias tightens his grip.
“She ran,” he sneers. “She abandoned her fate. Turned her back on all of you.” He wrenches my head from side to side. “Tell me, does she look innocent?”
“No!” someone shouts, but he’s too far back in the crowd for me to recognize who.
“She is filth,” a man spits, the same man who taught me how to knead bread.
“She reeks of sin!” bellows the woman I used to help sew.
Bambi walks over to me, I used to fish with her at the lake. Her hand flies across my face so hard that my ears ring.
“You deserve this,” she hisses. “You deserve every second of this.”
The crowd follows her lead. They get closer and closer. Neva and Meredith, the same girls I used to train cattle with, sneer at me. Neva spits right in my face.
“You ran from your duty. From us. Like you were better than this village. Better than us,” Meredith rages.
I can’t speak. I can’t say anything. I don’t even have the energy left to open my mouth.
All of them form a circle around me, and I can’t see anything but their shoes. And they have their revenge.
Someone punches me in the stomach so hard I spit out red. Hands tangle in my hair and yank with so much loathing that a few strands rip free from my scalp. Another kicks me right in the ribs.
“Nothing but a disgrace.”
Please stop.
Rocks are being thrown at me by a girl who is surely on their list to be sacrificed soon. But she shows no solidarity or even fear, only hate.
More follow. A rock hits my thigh. Another strikes my ribs. My feet.
They want me dead before the sacrifice even begins.
I’m dizzy. I taste blood, and I’m drowning in it.
They’re animals. Demons dressed as humans.
I close my eyes, trying to block it all out, trying to picture Damien’s face, his touch, his voice. But all I see are monsters.
“Amelia.”
I lift my head slowly. It’s like I’ve called an angel into existence. She looks like one, with her braided hair and loose gown.
The crowd parts for her. She’s come to save me.
“Mother,” I rasp. “Please—”
She slaps me hard. I flinch, my body betraying me with a whimper.
The crowd laughs.
“I bore you,” she growls, her nails leaving imprints on my bloody face. “I loved you. And this… this is how you repay me? By embarrassing me? By staining our family name?”
I wish I could believe this isn’t her. That this isn’t real. But something in me always knew my mother would choose the village over me any day. And today, she did just that. She chose her religion, the scriptures, the village, and even the damned Hellkeeper over her own daughter.
She turns away, lifting her hands to the sky.
“I call upon the Hellkeeper,” she chants, “to purify this wretch before her sacrifice.”
The crowd echoes her words.
Purify. Purify. Purify.
My mother walks over to an iron pot suspended over the flames and reaches for the wooden handle. The two men holding me tighten their grip.
“Mother—”
The water tilts.
And then—
Agony.
The water isn’t boiling yet, but it’s hot enough to make a million needles prickle across my skin. I scream until my throat is raw, until my lungs beg for mercy. But there is none. These monsters know no mercy. I have never felt this much pain in my life.
Death would be more merciful. This is torture.
“She is purified!” my mother declares. “Let her now be made worthy.”
I slump forward, trembling, dying.
I don’t pray to the Hellkeeper.
I pray to Damien.
Please.
Please come.
Please burn them all.
“Step back.” Elder Gideon stands at the edge of the fire, his hand raised, his presence alone enough to make them obey. All they ever do is obey; like sheep following monsters and calling them righteous.
“For generations, we have shielded you from the truth,” Elder Tobias begins. “We never let you witness the sacrifices. Not because we were ashamed, but because we did not want fear to drive you to foolishness.”
They listen, hanging on his every word.
“But tonight… tonight, you will watch.” His eyes sweep over the gathered crowd, taking in their reactions. “Because of her, you must. She proved to you that no one can run from their fate.”
The elders circle me like vultures, their robes whispering against the dirt as they chant.
“The Hellkeeper waits below. The flames cleanse the wicked soul. Blood will spill, fire will rise.”
Their voices rise in unison, eyes rolling back like they are possessed.
“The lost will burn, the faithful remain. The Hellkeeper’s wrath will be tamed.”
They circle me a few more times, chanting in tongues before falling silent.
Is this it? Is it over?
“Lift her up,” Elder Gideon commands the men who dragged me here.
They move me toward the massive tree standing before the fire pit. My body fights even as my spirit fractures, but they force my arms above my head, lashing the chains tight to a thick branch. The heat licks at my feet. Too close.
They’re going to dangle me. Hold me over the flames like a pig on a spit. Let me burn alive, slowly, so every girl in this village understands…this is the only fate.
There is no escape.
There is no mercy.
There is only fire.