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“You might know me as Famine. But my friends call me Sabine. And you and I, dearest, we’re going to be such good friends.”
ChapterForty-Two
SUNDAY
Everything hurt. My head, my hips, even my eyes. Fuck. Why was the bed so cold and hard?
“Caleb?”
My voice was a harsh rasp, and it echoed. That one small detail pierced through my mental fog. An echo? Where the hell was I?
I forced my eyelids open, squinting out of instinct, but there was no light. It took my eyes a second to adjust, but when they did, I recognized my surroundings instantly.
I was in Caleb’s church. Left upon the altar like some kind of sacrifice.
That’s when everything came rushing back to me. The midwife. The cocoa. My mother. She’d drugged us and brought me here. Panic exploded inside me. Where were they? Were they hurt?
Slowly sitting up, I slid off the altar and assessed the church, searching for my captor. I had to get out of here. Get to my mates. Help them.
I took one step toward the door when the first crippling pain bent me in two. This wasn’t like the others. I gasped as the ache ripped through me, building in intensity rather than dying down.
“Fuck,” I moaned. I held onto the edge of the altar as I rode out the contraction, trying to breathe through it.
No. Not now.
Once the tightness finally crested, I straightened and made my way toward the doors. I didn’t have long. A few minutes at most before the next one would hit. But I’d use every spare second I could to get out.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
My mother’s voice came from behind me, and it took significant effort to turn myself around to face her.
“What? You didn’t appreciate the symbolism of the altar? I thought it quite fitting myself. You, my flesh and blood sacrifice, giving way to the one that will save—or in your case, I suppose—end it all?”
“Fuck you.”
I returned my focus to the door and my goal of escape. But even as I headed down the aisle, another agonizing wave of pain gripped me, making me cry out as I hunched over and grabbed the nearest pew.
“Oh, it does hurt, doesn’t it? I remember it well. Screaming in pain as I brought you into the world. It’s all for the same goal, Sunday. It’s why I lowered myself to take your useless father into my bed. Just remember, she will come no matter how hard you try to keep it from happening.”
I bit back a cry, trying my best to ignore her taunts as I struggled to remain upright. The pain was excruciating. So much worse than I could have expected.
How did women survive this? Why did they ever have more than one child at all?
Once the contraction faded, I tried to take another step, but the wave began right on top of the last. Tears sprung to my eyes. It hurt so badly.
I allowed myself a second of selfishness to chase the thought. Hallucinations had gotten me through my weeks on the island. Maybe they’d come to my rescue again now. In my mind, we were in a hospital. Noah in the corner, trying and failing not to appear like he was seconds away from losing his shit.
Kingston would be a fucking football coach, his energy at a twenty as he tried to chant us all through it. I heard him perfectly. “That’s it, baby. Come on, you can do it, push! You got this.”
As for Alek, I imagined he’d be on the bed behind me, his big body curled around mine, lending me his strength and offering me a hand to squeeze.
“Caleb,” I whimpered, wishing he was here to help me through this with his soft murmurs of encouragement and love.
“He won’t come for you, dear one. None of them will.”
One after the other, the pains hit me like a rough sea crashing against the defenseless shore. Agony had me groaning and sweating as I shuffled forward, barely making progress.
“You really should lie down. It’s only going to get worse. You can’t leave. Not like this.”
