Chapter Six

Diana

I NEVER REALLY fully understood the meaning of the word irony until now.

I escaped my captor who forced me to have sex against my will only to move into a place where the landlord also forced me, and in order to get that to stop I have to … have sex for money by my will.

Irony at its finest.

I'm trying to not fall back into flashbacks, trying to remind myself I am choosing this. This is a choice, because I have no work experience and no luck landing literally any job. Even a cashier position, picking up trash, anything. I don't know, maybe it's that I don't know how to write a resume, let alone that I don't have one to write anyway.

But this is the life I was thrown into. And dammit, I want to survive!

And I can control what happens to me. I set the rules, I decide who has access to me. I decide how much I am worth.

That makes me feel better. Stronger. And as the time has gone by, I can slowly buy new furniture. A small TV. Softer mattress. Better food, though I still struggle with eating and looking and feeling too fat to be desired.

These men I attract on the street, though, they don't seem to be looking for someone who looks young. They want an adult. That's a first for me, and strangely, it's also a confidence-booster.

This night on the street, the girl I usually stand near sighs. Her name on the street is Sin. No clue what her real name is, nor do I care. As long as she stands near me, I always wind up getting the first pick of men.

"What's your problem?" I ask.

"Look." She discreetly points to three people.

A beautiful woman maybe a decade or more older than me in a white silk coat and pumps, a bearded man in his late thirties also in white, and a third man, maybe thirty, with long blond hair in a low ponytail, wearing dark slacks and a white dress shirt. They are too well-dressed to be around here unless they're looking to rent one of us for the night. I will stay far away from that — I refuse to entertain groups.

"Who are they?" I ask.

"They're from the First Church of the New Disciples," she whispers. "A religious group. They are always trying to save our souls. I keep hoping Blondie over there will come around, literally, but it's like they're made of stone," Sin complains.

I can see why she wants him to come around in all forms of the word. He's handsome. But a pretty face does nothing for me. Nor do any of these men I have been with. Pretty sure any potential sex drive I could have had has been eradicated from within me thanks to Mike and his clients.

The woman and bearded man stay together, while the blond man walks towards Sin and I. She clearly gets ready to present, but I can tell when someone won't be interested in what we're offering.

Well … maybe he would be if he was alone. Not with his fellowship members.

"Sin," he greets the girl at my side. "Even a few church visits couldn't manage to at least make you think twice about coming back here?"

She giggles and I want to slap her or myself, or him for entertaining her.

He turns away from her, eyes on me. I won't lie, his gaze is unnerving. It feels like he sees past this exterior and can read my very soul. Like he can see my pain, my sins, and my indifference to it all.

"I haven't seen you around; it saddens me that this profession is gaining members rather than losing." He sighs. "My name is Brother Thomas, I'm a Pastor-in-Training with the First Church of the New Disciples. And you do not have to do this, Miss…"

"Lily."

"Lily." He smiles as he repeats my fake name. "Tell me, why do this? Why give away the precious body God gave you?"

"I'm not giving it, I'm selling it. No one gets me for free," I reply curtly. "And if you don't mind, Pastor—"

"In-Training," he interrupts. "Not a pastor yet."

"Well, good for you. If you don't mind, men won't approach me if you're talking to me."

He gives me a smile that I am sure has made women become putty in his hands. Too bad I'm immune to charm.

"You're destroying your precious soul," he comments, handing me a tract.

I wave it away. "Pastor, my soul was destroyed a long time ago and I had nothing to do with it."

Thomas

Earlier that day…

"Brother Thomas," Father Oliver calls as he sees me coming back from one of my regular nature walks. They're to keep fit, keep active, not go stir-crazy, and get inspiration for my sermons. I take them regularly enough, most of our community knows to find me near the wooded area as opposed to my house.

"Father," I greet him politely. "What has sent you here this afternoon?" Being albino, he usually avoids the daylight.

"I would like you to take over for me tonight, ministering to the lost in the city," he says. Falling into step with me, we head back to the residential section of our compound.

"Am I ready for that, do you think? To lead the others alone?"

"You've been Pastor-in-Training for six months; I believe you were ready when you began," Oliver admits. "God is telling me you are needed there more than I am."

Unlike a lot of pastors who start these sort of communities, God doesn't speak to Father Oliver that much. When He does, it is usually something monumental, like when Oliver started the community, rescued his wife Catherine, and set the rules for us who choose to surrender ourselves to God and forsake the outside world and its growing evils. God tells him who to choose to study under him — me — and how to properly indoctrinate rescued spouses. Also what punishments fit each broken rule a community member makes, and who can mete out said punishments.

So if Father Oliver says God is telling him I need to go minister to the heathens, who am I to argue?

I admit I am good at public speaking, and I can be convincing. In my former life, I could have people eating out of the palm of my hand right before I ended their miserable lives, and they'd thank me for the privilege.

Of course, that life and all its perks are behind me for the most part. However, I retained my deliberate charm, which makes me an excellent Pastor-in-Training.

I choose my fellow church members, Brother Joseph and Sister Lisa, and we leave for the city after dinner, when the freaks truly do come out.

Since one prostitute for some reason seemed to take too much of a liking to me, I usually stick to the homeless and the youth who could easily have been me when I was their age. Before I surrendered my sin to the church, I was as wanton as these women; who am I to tell them to stop? And how much temptation can I take before I take one and kill them, going back to all my former sin and erasing my progress?

But this is God's will, not mine. And so we go, tracts in hand, God at our backs.

By the way, if an attractive person tells you they don't know they're good looking, they're lying. We all know, and we all use it to our advantage. Especially somewhere like this, where my appearance gets me all the attention I could want. I never paid for a woman, though, and even if I wasn't in the church, I would not start now.

I could get these sluts to let me sleep with them and kill them if I wanted with just a few words and a smile.

"Lisa, cinch your jacket a bit more before some passing creep thinks you're one of the whores," I scold my older sister when she gets out of the car.

She rolls her eyes at me but does as I say, and of course she begins to tease me. Being my actual sibling, she gets a pass at what would usually not be allowed.

I am not listening. I can't listen. My attention has been completely arrested as my eyes land on the most beautiful young woman I have ever seen.

A few things about her stand out: her thinness, as if she is overcoming a long illness, the fact that her slim body does not diminish the round swell of her breasts in her corset top, and her eyes. Her eyes are wide and deep brown, expressive and bright. These are not the eyes of a whore, a sex worker. No. They are innocent.

That is what strikes me most of all, this air of quietness, of almost childlike wonder.

My heart and soul have wholly been possessed in this moment, and I forget where I am and why I came.

"Little brother dear." Lisa snaps her fingers to get my attention. "What happened?"

I shake my head, unable to speak of it now. "Nothing. Let's begin."

I walk purposefully to this sweet little sinner I spotted, knowing one thing as a sure fact. This woman came from God, just as He speaks to Father Oliver. He sent her to me, or rather, He sent me to her.

This girl belongs to me, and I will save her.