AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But that turned out to be a lie.
I hang my head, wrapping the rosary around my fingers. Soul of Christ, sanctify me. I don’t belong here. Body of Christ, save me. Not in this church. Blood of Christ, inebriate me. Not with my parents. Water from the side of Christ, wash me. Not with Declan. Passion of Christ, strengthen me. I don’t belong anywhere.
As I twist the beads around my fingers, I turn and slip away from everyone and head toward the old abandoned chapel behind the church. Like me, it’s broken, forgotten by just about everyone. It’s my favorite place to go to think, to be alone. It’s the one place I can go to cry, to shout at God and the world, to mourn and feel without the threat of someone finding me.
The first tear falls as I round the corner, the choir starts to sing their melancholy rendition of Amazing Grace.
I’ve been found… and now I’m lost.
CHAPTER FIVE
EVE
I walk through the wilting garden behind the church as the clouds darken and rain falls from the sky. Before slipping into the derelict chapel, I turn my face to the sky and let the rain wash away my tears. The sins from my past are etched in flesh and blood and cannot be washed away as easily.
As I close the heavy wooden door behind me, I turn to light some of the candles, but they’re already lit.
Strange.
In the four years I’ve been living with the nuns, I’ve never seen anyone else in the chapel, but it doesn’t matter. This is no longer my sanctuary. I really should leave, go to my room where I can slip away from this reality in peace, but there’s something holding me back, keeping me cemented in place.
“Eve?”
Declan’s deep voice washes over me, giving me more solace in that second than I’ve had since I was forced to leave Northern California. That feeling though, is nothing more than a farce, I know it is. The last time I saw Declan I couldn’t get away fast enough, but maybe him being here today is a bit of divine intervention. Maybe this is my last chance at forgiveness before falling back into old habits.
“What are you doing here? How did you know about this place?” I walk the length of the pews, trailing my fingers along the cracked wooden backs as I pass, the rosary dangling from my other hand, the small cross hitting my leg with each step.
Declan is kneeling in front of the altar, his hands gripped together in front of his broad chest. His eyes are closed and his dark hair is wild, yet he remains still, almost like he’s praying. Is he atoning for his past? His present? Looking for some clarity? Or maybe, he’s more like me than I realize. Maybe he’s looking for some semblance of forgiveness or strength.
For the first time in a long time, I wonder what he has endured since we parted ways, and what exactly he does for Phoenix. I’d say they’re pretty close, since he barged in on my meeting with Phoenix and is still breathing. I may not know much about the mysterious club owner, but I know he’s dangerous. Powerful, too.
My gaze slides over Declan’s body, and with his eyes closed, I can study him without consequence or judgment. His shoulders are heavy, like there’s an invisible weight drawn across them, but they’re so broad, so muscular, I bet they can hold the world. His hair is a little longer than I remember, and I have the strangest urge to rake my nails along his scalp.
But I won’t.
One, because I’m working to become a sister, married to the Savior, and two, because I don’t want to disturb him.
He looks calm, almost serene, but it’s nothing more than an illusion.
Something is wrong.
Off.
And that’s when I notice it… the splatters of blood staining the white color of his dress shirt, running up the side of his neck, and speckling his cheek.
I quicken my steps to get to him. He might be one of the villains of my past, a face that haunts my nightmares, but there’s a large part of me that doesn’t want to see him hurt.
My heart hammers in my chest and my hands shake as I slowly lower myself to kneel beside him. I study his profile, reaching out to touch his bloodied cheek, but change my mind and let my hand fall back to my side.
Declan doesn’t turn to face me, but instead his hands drop to his lap and curl into fists. “It’s not mine.”
“Yours?”
“The blood. It’s not mine.”
I work the rosary back around my fingers, my gaze falling down to the beads as I twist them around my flesh, watching them dig in. My breath quickens and the familiar pang of panic claws its way through my body.
Declan’s hand covers mine, stifling my movements and filling me with a false sense of tranquility.
