Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

Crow

Icouldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful man with the dark hair and broken gray eyes. I didn’t know how to explain them other than that—broken. It had been days since I’d been down the mountain, but I could still feel his gaze on my skin. Not with disdain or disgust like some of the other townsfolk. And not with naked lust either, the way Bruce did before I fucked his brains out every time I needed it.

Maybe I needed to see him. Maybe it had been too long and that’s why I was thinking about the new man in town, this broken man who’d looked at me like he saw me, or wanted to see me, but the thing was, I didn’t want to be seen. Not by him or anyone else.

I spent my morning chopping wood and lining it up in the barn. I tried to get some done each day so I would have enough to get me through the winter. While I had heat, there was something about a fire when it was cold, the wood crackling…helping drown out the quiet.

Over the years, I’d torn down the house I’d lived in with Chosen—my father—and with my mother. In its place was now a large, one-story log cabin that had come from my own hands and hard work. It was bigger than I needed, more rooms than I needed, but it helped me feel less trapped. Plus, in the beginning, I wondered if anyone would come back, but of course they never did.

The community building where my previous family had lived was now remodeled into a large shop with two levels, and tucked in one of the back rooms, under lock and key, were all my paintings, drawings, and art supplies.

Then of course, I had the barn, and my outdoor gardens that flourished every year, and a greenhouse too, but more important than any of those things was the freedom I had on Tranquility Mountain, the comfort and security.

Once I had the wood cut and stacked, I picked vegetables and brought them inside. My skin felt too tight in a way it hadn’t in a long time. It was always like that when I went into town, but this was more. Like it had been when I was young and had been taken from my home to a world that didn’t make sense. Now I understood it better, having used the internet to learn, but I still hated it, didn’t want any part of it.

I thought about going to my art room, but I was too antsy for that, so I changed my clothes, loaded my rifle, grabbed my knife and other hunting supplies, and set out through the army of trees.

I was early—or late, depending on how you looked at it. Deer moved the most at dusk and dawn, but the sun would be setting in a few hours, and I could breathe better out here anyway.

There was no area of this mountain I hadn’t explored. I’d slept under the stars here more times than I could count. Had hunted prey and been prey myself, escaping both bears and mountain lions more than once.

I was in their home. I understood that and tried to respect it as much as possible, but this mountain was my home too. Always had been and always would be. We had to learn to share it. I felt closer to the animals here than the people in town below. Wildlife never hid who they were. They wanted to be left alone or wanted you dead; there wasn’t much in between. They never pretended to be something they weren’t. They didn’t play tricks with your mind, twisting it so they could control you. I would always choose an animal’s nature over a human’s.

My footsteps were soft and quiet as I continued through the forest. The earth made noises around me—a snake in the brush, birds nesting, the wind dancing through the branches—creating the only lullaby I needed. My mother had sung to me as a child—when she could hide from Chosen and do it—but once I’d hit twelve, Chosen had found out and punished us both. I was a man, he said, and it was time to act like it. That she’d put me above him and the Lord, and that was wrong.

I didn’t stop moving until I found the exact spot I needed. I’d been there before, too many times to count. I lowered myself to the ground, keeping alert, aware of my surroundings, while also closing my eyes, focusing on my hearing rather than my sight. I felt closer to nature this way, could let go of the things inside my head and just be.

I didn’t know how long I sat out there, but the time didn’t matter. When I heard the crack of a twig, I opened my eyes and slowly slid the rifle from around my back. I didn’t make a sound as I turned around. I raised the gun, looked through the scope, and aimed.

The doe was gone before she realized it, and she would help feed me this winter.

*

“Why aren’t anyother kids here?” I asked Chosen as we sat in his sanctuary, the place where he worshipped. We had one for the whole community, but he had his own as well. It was only because of him that any of us were becoming Enlightened, and the only way to continue on our journey was through Chosen.

“Why do you ask questions you know the answers to? It is beneath you. How are you ever supposed to become truly Enlightened and walk beside me if you can’t do anything right?”

His words pressed down on my heart like the heel of a boot, smashing it into the ground. “I’m sorry, Chosen. I just…it’s lonely.”

He sighed, clearly tired of me and all the ways I messed up. “That’s your fault. You’re supposed to be able to see past those lies like loneliness. That is not where true Enlightenment comes from. Where is that?”

“From you, Chosen.” He was the answer to every question. Only through him would the world be saved. When the world ended, only Chosen’s followers would be left behind to start over again and then be in the company of the Lord.

“Exactly, Crow.” He walked over and stood beside me. I was sitting at a table, studying the lesson he’d given me for today. He needed to pass all his knowledge on to me so that I could walk by his side, so if anything ever happened to him, I would be able to fill his shoes. Since he was Chosen by God, if I could be good enough, that meant I could be Chosen by him too. “This is your burden to bear, and you must bear it for your family, for your mother, for any chance of reaching Enlightenment and being free. You want that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I answered quickly. Of course I did. I wanted to make the world a better place. I wanted to be strong for my mother. I wanted to be the son he needed me to be. If I was the only rightful child to be born—because I was the only one to come from a person who had reached true Enlightenment—I would be the best son I could be. I would work hard and follow his teachings and make him proud. I wouldn’t need people or feel loneliness because none of those things were as important as fulfilling my destiny as his son.

“Good job, son. Now go for punishment. You shouldn’t have asked me about this. You should be concentrating on your betterment, on what our people need, and not be upset you don’t have children to play with. Tell them I said twelve hours and ten swats.”

My heart jumped into my throat at his words. I knew that we needed pain because it made us tougher, stronger, but I hated my time in isolation. Being alone in the dark for twelve hours was torture.

Because I was weak.

I needed this.

Chosen was right.

He was always right.

“Yes, Chosen.” I stood on shaky legs, wishing I could get out of this, then hating myself for thinking that. From punishment came Growth.

I made it all the way to the door before he said, “Crow?”

“Yes, Chosen?”

“Don’t tell your mother about this. I’ll tell her you’re hunting. It will break her heart that you required punishment. You don’t want to hurt her, do you?”

“No, Chosen.” I never wanted to hurt her. “I won’t tell her.”

My eyes jerked open, but I didn’t move. My reaction was always different when it came to having a dream about before. Sometimes I was angry, others I felt nothing at all. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t change anything I’d been through. The only thing that ever hurt was when I thought about her. My mother. She had given up her life for me. She had wanted something more for me. Not more than the mountain, I didn’t think. If so, I couldn’t give her that—couldn’t leave this place I loved so much. Did it matter that my life was different? Would she at least be happy that I didn’t spend my life getting hit with a switch, spending hours alone in isolation, or carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders?

My eyes were wide open, and I knew I wouldn’t sleep again tonight, so I did what I often did in moments like these. I got out of bed, went to my safe, and plucked out my mother’s journal. She’d told her story within these pages, some notes to me specifically, some just writing out her feelings. I’d never known it existed until the lawyer had given it to me.

She had been alone when she’d met my father. She’d grown up in a very wealthy family, with parents who traveled often. She was raised by nannies. When she was eighteen, her parents died in an airplane crash. She’d been searching for love, for community, and had found it in Chosen. He was older than her and charismatic. When he’d spoken, people had listened.

I opened the journal, eyes scanning the sometimes neat, sometimes messy handwriting. I didn’t read in order, just picked over certain things, even though I knew the whole thing by heart.

When my parents died, they left me everything, but money was all I had. No self-confidence, no self-esteem, had never known what it was like to be loved, and I wanted that, so very badly.

It was only a few months after my parents passed away that I met Chosen. I was nineteen, naive to the world, lonely. I didn’t have many friends. He was handsome and charismatic. All the women wanted to be with him, and all the men wanted to be him. He just had that electric kind of personality. When he spoke, people listened, they believed, they wanted to be a part of whatever he was.

For some reason I couldn’t understand, Chosen wanted me, picked me, made me feel loved for the first time. I had never known anything like that before.

I see now that he picked me because he knew he could manipulate me, that I was so needy for love, he could take advantage of that…

You deserved better than the life we were giving you.

That’s when I started my plan of escape, but I think I knew even then that it was too late for me. But I swear to you, Crow, it’s not too late for you! It is never too late for you.

I closed the book and locked it away again. While it helped me deconstruct the things Chosen had taught me, it also filled me with guilt, because now she was dead, and I would never be able to give her so many of the things she’d wanted for me.