Page 67 of I Will Save You


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I am disgusting.

I slap myself.

Hard.

Cam’s fingers wrap around my wrist, and in an instant his arms are around me.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” he demands.

“Because I am transgressing. A fiction movie is so trivial compared to what the world needs.”

“The world?”

“What happens when I turn twenty-five, Cam, and I am not matched with my husband?” My voice shakes. “You have me trapped here in a bunker, feeding me food that is off-limits, forcing me to break every rule I’ve been taught by caring stewards of the light!”

I rip myself out of his arms and stand.

“This is a crime!” I screech, beginning to pace, Winnie on my heels. “You are a criminal! You have stolen me away from the people who have curated my existence to prepare me for the only path forward to save humanity. And – and if I am not where I need to be when I turn twenty-five, it will be my fault that the world ends!”

He is standing now, arms crossed over his chest, watching me intently.

“If the world ends, Princess, we’re uniquely suited to survive it.”

“THAT IS NOT FUNNY!”

“I’m not joking.”

“AND I AM YOUR QUEEN!”

He drops to his knees, unwrapping his arms, holding his hands up in prayer, eyes mocking.

Cruel.

Cold.

“You really believe it. God, they warned me this would be hard, and I remember being hard to crack, too, Paigelynn. I thought my own experience being victimized by a cult would make me better at helping you, but now I’m questioning that. Maybe I’m the worst choice for this.” He presses his hands flat on the carpeted floor and moves to a cross-legged position, Winnie instantly jumping into his lap.

“You are the worst if you keep me from…from—” My chest feels like it’s being gnawed from the inside out.

“From something that sounds utterly ridiculous.”

“NOT TO ME!”

A dawning in his eyes makes him stand, walking to the kitchen counter, where he picks up a remote control and presses a button, turning on a wall.

Yes, a wall.

Like a television, the wall itself turns into an enormous screen. I have seen mainstream televisions before, out in public. Small squares of varying colors appear, each representing a different channel or service.

He opens YouTube.

“They told me not to do this yet.” He frowns at me, mouth turning into a flat line, one eyebrow twitching. “But you’re leaving me with no choice.” With a few clicks, he pulls up a screen.

The Mother is on it.

I gasp.

Then he presses Play.

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