Chapter VII
HEAVY RAIN FELL AGAINST THEplastic sheeting; the outside was blurry but distinguishable. In the sky, a bird flew. A bald eagle I recognized from its flight pattern, its glorious wingspan. So high the eagle could see everything. The concrete buildings we inhabited spread across half an acre. A bunker where we slept. An armory resembling a silo. The battery that David occupied with its shell room and officer quarters. The compound had been erected during World War II in the event Japanese submarines made it to shore.
Inside, David held a Bible flipped open. He read from Psalms. "?‘My closest friend whom I trusted, the one who ate my bread, had lifted his heel against me.'?" He shut the Bible with a thump. The air was hot and humid with twice-breathed air. "We have a traitor in our midst."
Charity, Hope, and I kneeled next to one another, silent. Serendipity stood off to the side, her arms crossed. A faint glimmer of fear on her face. I'd never seen Serendipity afraid before. My stomach dropped.
The plastic sheeting opened, and Michael stepped through. He sauntered to David's side. I kept my eyes downcast. I only remember seeing the tips of his dirt-crusted boots and the seeds as they sprinkled onto the hard earth near my knee. I felt Hope shudder beside me. Our precious seeds.
"Did you think I would not know? That I would not find out?" David ground out. "Look at me!"
Michael pinched my cheeks and forced my gaze upward. I tasted blood in my mouth. "Whose idea was it?" David asked, eyes darting back and forth between us.
Nobody spoke. I made a choking noise. Michael let go of my cheeks.
David peered down at me. "Speak."
I hung my head.
Then David laughed. A sick chuckle. "I see," he said. "Pick them up," he commanded, nodding at the seeds. I glanced at Hope, and I shouldn't have. Michael's hand flashed out and connected with her cheek. "I said pick them up," David repeated.
Hope held her cheek as we gathered the seeds. Once they were in our palms, David marched us outside to the fire. "Throw them in," he commanded.
One by one, we cast the seeds into the fire. Some of them stuck to my hand, and I had to scrape them off. David watched us, shadows and darkness ricocheting off his face. "Foolish girls," he said as the seeds turned black and into ash. "Foolish, foolish girls."
I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing myself somewhere else. Wishing to be a bird or a bug and just fly away. Warmth brushed my wrist. David had hooked his finger under the bracelet Hope had made for me. "Pretty," he said. "And matching." His gaze drifted to Hope's and Charity's wrists. "Those go into the fire, too."
Tears began to slide down my face as I worked on the knot. I dropped the friendship bracelet into the fire. Hope and Charity did the same with theirs. More tears came, a gentle heaving as we watched it all burn.
It's hard to remember the in-between spaces. What happened next, some of it is a blank. The tick of a second.
A blink.
I was curled up on my bed when the metal door creaked open, and David entered. Michael was with him. The room seemed to shrink, and my body tightened.
David sat on the edge of the bed and patted the seat beside him. His knuckles were bruised and bloody. I scooted forward until my legs dangled off the side. Michael guarded the door, dogs at his feet, tongues dangling. A puppy was there, too. One I named Star because of the white mark on her forehead. Michael had taken the rest of the pups away one day and had come back alone.
"Whose idea was it, the seeds?" David asked quietly, softly, like the hiss of a snake. "And before you answer, I already know. Tell me the truth, and then we will move on."
My nails bit into my palms, almost drawing blood. What had Charity and Hope said? That it was my idea? I hung my head, unsure what to do. What game was he playing? What vile trick? Or maybe he spoke the truth. I was so confused. David liked to set little traps for us, and when we fell into them, he would be there at the rescue.
"I'm hurt. I give you all of this. Food. Shelter. And how am I repaid?" He squeezed my knee. Hard. "Michael found the seeds in your room. Are you surprised? Did you believe we wouldn't be keeping an eye on you?" His words wrapped around my neck, a noose growing ever tighter. "My father used to sweep my room. And it was for the best. I am looking out for you. My job is to ensure you do not stray from the path." He sighed. I wrapped my arms around my middle, unable to stop shaking. "I have seen the way you smile at each other. You like Charity and Hope." His touch softened. "It's not your fault. You are very desperate in your need to be loved, aren't you? But they don't love you like I do. And they are not your friends. Friends wouldn't have told me it was all your idea—"
"No," I ground out, refusing to believe him. My fingers searched for the friendship bracelet. But it was gone, burned in the fire. The greatest trick the devil ever played wasn't convincing others he didn't exist, but that your friends were your enemies.
"I'm not even sure they like you," he finished. "Let's try this again. Whose idea were the seeds?"
I crumbled, scrunched my eyes closed for a moment. Thought about what I should do. "It was all my idea. Planting and growing them by the creek."
"Where did you get the seeds?" His eyes changed, the shade darkening, the gaze of someone who knew they were powerful. Who knew they were in control. Who knew they had won.
I should have stopped there. I should have sacrificed myself. I should have fought. That's what we're supposed to do, isn't it? Never surrender.
Do you ever think about the tiny moments in time? The ones that take seconds? The ones you'd go back and do anything to unravel? This was my moment. The one I regret most, more than taking a piss in that abandoned parking lot, more than fighting with Danny. It's a tangled black ball inside me, always sitting in my gut.
I opened my mouth, ready to tell the truth, to take the fall. "Gabby found the seeds, but it was my idea to grow them. Please don't punish any of them—" I stopped abruptly, realizing the word, the name I'd let slip. The name I swore I would never utter out loud. Hope. I had said her real name, Gabby. A plea lodged in my throat as the lock on my door clicked into place.
Blink.
I woke to a door opening and slamming shut. Then a scream. A pain-filled cry.
"Please, David." Hope's voice was on the other side of the wall. I crossed the room and banged on the door.
"Hope," I pounded out. "Hope."
"You were my golden girl," he said.
"David," came Serendipity's wary voice. "She said she's sorry—"
"Shut up!" David yelled. Thump. The muted sound of a fist hitting flesh.
It quieted. I scooted my bed under the window and stood on it, peering over the ledge. They came around the corner. Michael's hand was locked around Hope's arm, dragging her. She fought back, but it was useless, like closing your eyes against a tidal wave. David followed with the dogs, their mouths foaming, malice rising. Serendipity knelt in the dirt, rocking and holding her face. I think she'd gone away like I sometimes did. My puppy Star trotted across the dirt and lay down near the bars. I curled my fingers around the cold metal, and Star licked the salt from my knuckles. "Hope," I said. Over and over again until they disappeared.
Then it was silent.
I banged my head against the bars. Star whimpered and ran away. I yelled until my shouts turned into nothing. Then I built a cave inside myself, crawled in, and prayed for forgiveness.
Blink.