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C. HALLMAN
Lost Souls© 2023 by C. Hallman
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LOST SOULS
Leona
When I was seventeen, my mother made me an orphan. I did everything I could to stay out of foster care, and I managed to survive on the streets on my own… barely.
When Rebecca found me and took me to New Haven, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world.
I should have trusted my instinct.
I should have run when I had the chance.
Now I’m eighteen, and if I don’t get out of here soon, I might not live to turn any older.
Elijah
I knew something was off about this place as soon as my dad dragged me here.
I just didn’t know how depraved these people really were.
Now the only question is, am I as monstrous as them… or am I worse?
*Triggers include human trafficking, violence, captivity, and forced nudity.*
CHAPTER ONE
LEONA
Peering out the window over my cot, I scan the grounds surrounding the bunkhouse. Moonlight glints off razor wire just about as far as the eye can see from this position. The sight of it makes my blood run cold, and my self-hatred heats up until it’s about to boil over.
I can’t believe I ever saw this place as a sanctuary.
It’s painfully quiet at this time of night, with the only sound coming from the compound, the occasional crunch of boots as the guard on duty makes his rounds. I never thought to ask why armed guards were patrolling what’s supposed to be a peaceful, religious community. I was so glad to have a bed and a hot meal; I overlooked the red flags that were so obviously waving around by the end of my first day here.
From the window of my room, I have a view of the wide dirt road cutting through the heart of the compound. It leads down to the main gates and up to the house where Rebecca and her son, William, live. They’re probably sleeping in there right now. I have to believe they are. People like them can sleep peacefully and comfortably because they are the ones with all the power. They make the rules and can change them whenever they feel like it. No warning and no mercy.
I hope Rebecca is asleep now. It’s past midnight, and there’s a church service in the morning. I imagine she’s resting up before standing in front of her congregation and looking out over a sea of faces with that hard, glittering look she gets in her eyes.
At first, I used to sit up a little straighter when she started looking in my direction. I wanted her to notice me. I wanted her to see how hard I was trying to prove I belonged here. Like she didn’t make a mistake by picking me up off the street and bringing me to New Haven. I wanted her to… be proud of me, I guess.
Now, straining my ears for even the slightest sound outside, I want nothing more than to escape. To never, ever come back here.
I didn’t feel this strongly until a week ago, the day after my eighteenth birthday. Sure, I was starting to get a funny feeling before then. Just a little. Like something was off. You don’t survive on the streets without honing your instincts. Mine have been driving me crazy.
Like, why are the men around here vaguely creepy all the time? They’re always looking at me, all of them, and I know I’m not making it up in my head. Because I’m not the only one they look at. I’ve caught them watching the girls working in the gardens, staring at them from behind while they’re on their hands and knees pulling weeds.
I wasn’t raised super religious, but that doesn’t seem right. Shouldn’t they, like, fight against lust?
Because that’s definitely the sort of thing Rebecca talks about during services. How we should all be good—pure. We’re all soldiers for the Lord. And we’re going to go out into the world and convince others to join us because ours is the true way.
It makes me shudder when I think of her pulling me up to the front of the room so I could testify to how desperate and awful my life was before she found me. At the time, a couple of months after I came here, I was happy to do it. I stood up there and said all the things she told me to say. How I owed my life to New Haven, to God’s mercy, all of that.
