CHAPTER 32
Devon
He wanted so badly to go back, so badly to pedal to town, fish in his pocket for his last quarter, and dial the hospital.
But he couldn’t risk it. Even in the dead of night, he knew T or his friends would be out there, hunting for him, ready to take him down, hurt him.
All he could do was stay where he was, safe in JJ’s tunnel in the woods, his friend’s secret hideaway, and pray.
It’s all my fault.
He was grateful he’d brought his Bible. He wished he’d thought to bring a pen, but it didn’t matter. The words washed over him like a gentle rain, and he tried to fill his mind with them, let them drown out everything else.
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
Jesus wept.
Devon sat there, his back against the smooth concrete, huddled against the night, grateful when the clouds shifted and the moon swept light on the pages bright enough for him to read.
When the light was gone, he hunkered down and tried his best to sleep, tried to listen to the river slosh against the rocks below the tunnel, but the dreams and the worry were too much.
He knew he was weak, knew he needed to cast his worries on God and trust in his promises, but for the first time in his life he couldn’t see through, couldn’t see how he’d possibly get past this.
He couldn’t eat, either. The cereal bar was too dry for his throat, and he found he could barely get it past his lips, let alone chew and swallow it down. The few bites he’d managed burned his stomach, threatened to spill back out.
And so he sat, rocking slowly, cold and hungry and feeling utterly, completely alone.