Page 1 of Unhallowed

The sound of the lock disengaging snaps me out of my trance, the darkness no longer casting shadows before my eyes. I’m so used to it at this point. There’s nothing down here, not even a speck of light. For all I know, I could have company, but not even the sounds of my breaths register in my brain anymore.

Light filters in when the door is opened, and my eyes scream in protest before I shut them tightly. My corneas grate against my lids, reminding me that everything about me is dry at this point. Including my heart.

What is a heart anyway?

My clothes—a long t-shirt—rustle with my movements. I should be grateful they feed me well, clothe me, and make sure I’m taken care of for the most part. I’m just lacking human contact, except for Jonah—my religion teacher. Instead, as I smell the musty basement around me, all I feel is resentment, a reminder that I’m nothing to anyone. Not anymore, at least.

Footsteps shuffle down the concrete stairs and I tense, plastering myself against the cold wall that the mattress on the floor is against. No one—from my family—visits me down here. It’s only the voices in my head that keep me entertained, egging me on. Isn’t that normal anyway? Don’t we need stimulation to survive? And that’s what I’m doing, is it not? Surviving.

Barely.

I scrape by just fine, though. After all, I’ve been down here for nearly a decade. It’s no wonder I’ve lost touch with reality. The last time someone was down here with me was a few years ago, and aftertheyrealized what he and I were doing, how we had found comfort in each other… well, they ripped him from me.

I guess that’s not true. I’m a liar, just as they keep telling me. The last time someone was down here was yesterday, but all he does is… teach me. Because, obviously, I have to learn aboutThe Lord. They want me to be educated, knowledgeable. Thankfully, they didn’t neglect my high school education, but it’s been several years since anyone taught me about anything other than God. Probably because there’s nothing else to teach. I’m too old for it now—twenty-one, to be exact. And they won’t let me go to college, clearly.

Although I’ve been confined to small spaces for nearly half my life, trapped like a caged animal, they won’t let me be a stupid, uneducated caged animal. I believe that’s how they make themselves feel less guilty about what they’re doing. How lucky for me.

So yeah, the man comes and goes, the flow of him coming in and out making my head pound in protest when he turns on the lights, but the religious education is necessary to fuel my hate. Because one day, I swear I’ll escape this hell. I’ll find a way to make it out of here and never look back.

If hell was real, this is what it would look like.

Cramped spaces. Darkness. Boredom.

The one thing no one knows is that there’s no amount of forcing me into learning about a God; there’s no one I’ll worship except for one person. And he’s gone. Dead? I don’t know. But he’s been gone like the wind for years.

At first, it was a platonic love—the kind where you steal smiles from each other and hold by the pinkies. Eventually, though, it grew into more, morphing from a tiny spark that ultimately turned into a wildfire. It turned into butterfly kisses in the darkness, kissing under the covers and making our own world, shaping it with our own hands until everything else ceased to be.

Tongue, lips, teeth.

Hands, skin, souls.

We were everything the other wasn’t. He was my other half, and now I’m incomplete. It was unhealthy, the way everything stopped when I was in the same vicinity as him, and trapped in a basement together for years… our feelings wouldn’t fit in our chest cavities any longer. We were bursting at the seams.

Until we were discovered.

“Time to go, young lady.” The voice of my teacher booms and echoes in the confined space, and I flinch when he makes it to the last step. I open my eyes and squint at the bright lights, focusing on him. “It’s your lucky day.”

“Where?” I ask nervously, fidgeting with my hands already, tearing at my fingernails. A habit I can’t fucking break. “What do you mean?”

I look at his dirty blond hair and his brown eyes. If the Devil had a face, it would be his. Strong jaw, straight nose, killer eyes. Jonah’s body is strong, built with muscles that scream years of work. He’s a few years older than me, and absolutely obsessed with what he does. But he’s attractive, sinful. And that’s exactly why he’s here. To tempt me, make me a sinner, more than they already believe I am for not caring about the word of theLord. “You’re leaving this place.” He grins. “And that’s all I will say.”

I eagerly get up from the bed, my head spinning from getting up too fast, and notice he has clothes in one hand and shoes in the other. He throws them at my feet and steps back, expecting me to get dressed. Jonah doesn’t turn around though. In fact, he stays looking at me eagerly, as if he wants something I can offer.

Nasty fucker.

They want to preach about purity, yet look at him, watching me in a way I would say is the opposite of pure. Or maybe it’s because I’ve lost that already and now I’m tainted. Disgusting. Just as they keep reminding me every day of my life.

“Are you going to turn around?” I ask with a tremble in my voice that pisses me off.

You must not show fear.

You must be strong.

Shut the fuck up.

He grins, an evil glare in his eyes. “No.”

But it doesn’t matter, because if he’s being serious and I’m finally getting out of here, well I don’t care what happens from now until I’m free. Let him ogle me, do more than that for all I care, but my wings are about to spread and no one is keeping me from flying.

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