Page 89 of Breaking the Sinner

“Blessed be,” her mother crooned, gathering Gen against her once more. When they broke apart, Gen turned to Cobra, sweeping her arm out toward him.

“Blessed family,” Gen said, the words finding her tongue as though no time had passed at all. “I’d like you to meet Cobra. My friend from Los Angeles.”

A thick silence filled the air. Her father straightened, and though nobody said anything, Gen could sense her sisters shrinking. As though simply looking at Cobra was a sin.

“Welcome,” her mother said at long last, lowering her head as a greeting. Cobra had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, something between a grimace and a smile on his face. Then he jolted, lowering his hoodie, as if he’d forgotten about it.

“Hey, guys.”

Gen forced a smile, looking at the rest of her family. This was an important first step. But the path leading inside already felt like a struggle.

“Come inside,” Mary said, reaching for Cobra’s hand.

“Mary Elizabeth,” her father barked, and Mary dropped Cobra’s hand immediately.

Gen’s stomach pitched to her feet, but she struggled not to show defeat. Approaching the porch, she said, “Hi, Father. Hi, Abigail. Hi, Charity. Hi, Hope.” Her family had arranged themselves in descending order, oldest to youngest. Except for the rebels—Mary and Mother.

A low chorus of “hellos” sounded. Probably the best she’d get from them.

Gen hung back as her father led the way inside. Once most everyone had gone inside, she smiled over at Cobra, but it fell quickly.

He lowered his head. “What. The. Fuck?”

“What?”

His nostrils flared. “Gen. Have your sisters even seen tattoos before?”

His question made her falter. He brought up a good point.

“They were staring like they thought I’d knife them.”

“That’s part of the point of you being here,” she said, looping her arm through his to urge him toward the house. “You are a new specimen. But they’ll see soon enough how sweet you are. How lovely.”

Cobra huffed. “I’m not—”

“Don’t even argue with me.” She stopped, placing her hands on the tops of his shoulders. She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. “When are you going to learn that I can see into your heart? No matter how much you try to close it off?”

Cobra snapped his mouth shut, something strange passing over him. Something a lot like tenderness.

“God dammit, Genny,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. She smiled, allowing the touch for only a brief second before stepping away, glancing toward the house.

“Remember. No language like that inside. Ready?”

His jaw flexed as he nodded.

Gen led the way in, pushing at the heavy steel door. The house bore down with a quiet, sepulchral power. Her footsteps creaked over the wood floor, a sound that sent nostalgia washing through her. Even though she’d been imagining leaving this house, this community, for practically the past ten years, this first return trip felt monumental.

Like she’d been away for years.

Like she’d become an entirely different person.

It was hard not to see the familiar trappings of home with entirely new eyes. The white curtains that lined the kitchen windows, tiny apples stitched into them, held back with yellow ribbon. The impressive, hand-built bookcases lining the hallways, stuffed to the brim with Bibles and homeschooling materials and every manner of textbook regarding farming. Of all the books Gen had devoured over the past few months, not a single one would have been permitted inside the walls of this house. Just a fraction of the world’s available publications.

She hadn’t even been able to fathom their existence.

She’d forgotten about the silence. Not only around the property, buried in the woods, but the silence of their home. The way they stayed isolated from the outside world, but also isolated inside the home. Each member was their own, quiet island.

Her family had gathered in the living room. Each one of her sisters had squeezed onto the long couch, sitting hip to hip, hands folded in their laps. Father stood by the fireplace, his hand squeezing the brick mantle. Mother wrung her hands by the doorframe.

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