Chapter 16 #3
I cleaned myself up with frigid water, scrubbing my skin raw, careful of the lashings, wincing at the new pain that exploded across my chest. I gurgled some water several times and spit it out before brushing out my knotted hair and putting it back in a ponytail.
Lastly, I wrapped my chest in gauze the best I could before finally pulling on my clothes and smoothing them out.
I should have stopped it. That punishment would have been less than this one, I was sure of it.
My gaze dropped as I headed for the door, meeting Thomas in the hall. I folded my hands in front of me and heard the click, following after him, hearing his words over and over again.
“You ruined us.”
I did that. Our marriage hadn’t even started yet, and I had ruined it.
“I’m sorry,” I wanted to say. “I didn’t want it.
I wanted him to stop.” But there was no reason to speak even if I could.
He wouldn’t listen. It was my fault. I could have stopped it, and I chose not to.
I could have called out. I could have done a lot of things.
“Forgive me father, please,” I thought towards the Lord. “I should have stopped him. I should have done something. I’m sorry, please forgive me. Please, please, please.”
I felt the warm gaze as soon as we stepped out of the hall, and the only thing I felt within me was shame. He certainly wouldn’t like looking at me now. He might not ever speak to me again. I was impure. My chest burned with the knowledge of my eternal sin.
He had called me a little sinner, and I was. I had given away my purity to Mr. Bastrom, and I hated it.
This was my punishment for coveting Azrael’s gaze. This was my punishment for wanting him to come to the Back Hall. God saw all, the Good Book had said. Nobody could hide from him.
On the inside, my whole world was shattering, crumbling into cold ash, slamming against my bones like a raging storm of nothing.
But on the outside? There was nothing. Not even a twitch of a muscle. No strange sensations of warmth or tingles outside of his eyes. I felt as numb as I had the day before I felt Azrael’s eyes on me for the very first time.
Thomas’ pace was quicker as we walked across the sanctuary towards the back doors, and I felt Azrael’s eyes on me the entire time.
Would he say something? Why would he? I had been soiled.
He would sense my impurity, Pastor Masters said as much about the higher members of our church.
Thomas would never have to tell him, he’d just know.
I had seen girls called out in the middle of sermons because of their impurities.
They were cast out like lepers before being sent to Absolution.
I didn’t think I would be cast out because I had only become impure through my mouth, which wasn’t as serious as becoming impure through other parts of me, but it was still bad. Very bad.
Thomas stormed through the door, but a cane slammed up in front of me, stopping me in my tracks.
I stared at the cane across the doorway just in front of my ankles, at the arm that held it, at the part of the chest I could see because Azrael was leaned over so far.
There was a silver chain in his breast pocket.
He slid his cane up the doorway, and I think he kept it in my way, but I couldn’t be sure.
His shoes were pointed at me again. “Your braid is missing,” he said, his voice far colder than before. “Your pretty little braid.”
I felt a warmth burn the side of my face, and it didn’t take me long to realize it was his fingers. His fingers were hovering above the side of my face, my hairline.
I stood there, allowing him to inspect me, knowing exactly what was driving him to do it.
I felt nothing though, and I wondered what I might have felt had he done this before I went into the Back Hall.
Maybe I might have shivered. Maybe I might have smiled.
Maybe I might have leaned into his touch just a little so he could see how soft my skin was, and he would know that I would be good for him.
I had never been touched softly though. There was no such thing in this world, so maybe it was best he didn’t.
I wanted to keep the delusions. I wanted to live in my imagination, especially not that I was frozen ash wrapped up in skin and bones.
I was nothing compared to the sea. I wasn’t even worth enough to be considered a ghost like I thought him to be.
“Girl!”
I pressed my lips into a thin line and stepped forward hesitantly, only for the cane to slide back into my line of sight.
He wasn’t going to let me go.
Why? Did he want to cast me out like the others? Was he a strict rule follower, here to make sure that Thomas was going to keep his sworn word?
Thomas’ shoes appeared in front of me, the feeling of Azrael’s fingers disappearing. “Put your cane down, Mr. Thorin.”
“I want to look at your merchandise,” Azrael stated. “I’m allowed.”
“Not today. Pick another day.” He clicked his tongue, and I took a step forward, but Azrael kept the cane exactly where it was, forcing me to stop again, my shins inches from the wood. I wish he would just let me go.
“Your little robot isn’t very smart, is it?” Azrael pondered.
It. I had become an ‘it’ already.
“She comes when she is called,” Thomas responded bitterly.
“And your call is a click?” Azrael mused. “How interesting. Most call with snaps, some even call them by their name.” His eyes fell to the side of my face. I could feel them burning through my skin, but even he couldn’t penetrate the chill that had settled in my bones.
After a moment, he finally removed his cane and stepped back. “That says a lot about a person,” he commented. “The thing they use to call their fiancé.”
Thomas grabbed my arm and pulled me through the doorway. “Goodbye, Mr. Thorin.”
“It says a lot about a person,” he continued, remaining where he was as Thomas pulled me towards the church doors. “You treat her like a dog, but don’t you know? There are other ways to summon a fire.”
“Find your own pet,” Thomas shot back.
“For instance,” he went on, his voice no louder than it had been before we walked away. “Scarlett.”
My heart stuttered, my foot catching on the edge of the carpet, my head turning ever so slightly back towards him before I could stop it.
Other than introductions, it had been a long time since I had heard my name coming from someone else’s lips. Let alone sounding like that.
It was the first time that the name I had chosen felt like mine.