Page 109 of Wanted

“Only a day or so?” he presses. “Are you sure?”

Wanting the answer more than anything, I tune out the cracks that are coming faster now and furrow my brow. Trying to remember what happened after Father McCall asked me to help him.

But it’s as if that entire piece of my memory has been stolen from me.

The Prophet releases a heavy sigh that instantly makes me feel uneasy. “I’m afraid we’ll have to do this the hard way, after all. Forgive me.”

Wait… what? The Prophet is apologizing tome? Am I hallucinating?

I frown at him in confusion. “Do what the hard—”

Before I can finish my question, he presses his fingers against my temples and sends what feels like the equivalent of a thousand volts of electricity into my head.

The pain is so immediate and intense, I don’t have a chance to let out a scream.

And unlike the last time he did such a thing, I don’t pass out. I remain conscious and aware of every single second.

All my senses try to shut down to block out the torment. Everything in front of my eyes turns black, sound disappears, and I can’t feel what my body is doing.

But there’s no turning off the agony.

The wall I so carefully crafted over the years is blown to pieces. Unable to withstand the force blasted at it.

As the electricity from the Prophet’s fingers continues to flow into me, I swear my very cells catch on fire. Burning… sizzling…

Melting.

“I know it hurts, child, but you must remain strong,” the Prophet sings, his voice somehow reaching me over the misery. “We all have our burdens to bear, unfortunately, and this is yours.”

If I had the strength to curse him out I would. Curse him and his entire flock to the deepest bowels of Hell to experience what I’m experiencing.

As if he realizes my desire, the pain flares, the flow from his fingers growing stronger.

“This is nothing compared to what you will endure if you ever reach that plane,” he hisses menacingly.

Any other time, his words would frighten me.

But there is no room for fear.

There is only room for this wretched, unbearable pain.

An unbearable pain that is so awful, I sense something inside me starting to slip away…

“This is not a time to be weak!” the Prophet says quickly, like he’s suddenly worried. “I’ve made you strong enough to get through this.”

Every fiber of my being revolts against his attempt at encouragement, wanting to escape.

But then he commands, “Remember!”

Father McCall puts the car in park and turns off the headlights. He stares out the windshield for a couple of minutes before finally looking over at me. “If I’m not back in an hour, I want you to catch the next bus to somewhere up north.”

“Can’t I go with you?” I ask, my heart racing at the prospect of attempting such a thing.

Shaking his head, Father McCall says, “No, it’s too dangerous.”

I scoff. After living underground since I was a young child, trying to navigate this world all on my own seems more dangerous to me.

But maybe he’s so confidant in his plan he knows it won’t come to that?

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