Page 3 of Matteo

“Thanks so much sweetie. I’m going to tell your mom how helpful you are when I see her at choir practice next week.”

My feet felt heavy the entire way up the stairs. The familiar church smells had filtered into my nose, and I wondered if God was watching.

Pushing open the door, I found Pastor Justin sitting in a chair behind a desk. Papers were stacked high, with manillafolders in between here and there. When I stepped into the room he looked up from his typing.

“Mrs. Mac said you needed some help?” I twisted my hands, wanting to wring them out.

Run, I thought.Leave this place.

Frozen in place, I waited, my breath expanding heavily into my lungs.

He stood up then, and I noticed he was wearing a suit. Pastor Justin was tall, up close and smelled like some sort of cheap cologne. He moved behind me and I heard the door click as he locked it into place.

I had on a t-shirt, and goosebumps were now prickling my skin from a combination of the coolness from the new air conditioning and being alone in the presence of a grown man.

Warmth flooded my arm as Pastor Justin rubbed his hand up and down my arm slowly.

“I did need some help,” he whispered in my ear.

The need to scream filled me and my stomach tumbled.

“God is watching, Rain…”

He knew my name.

He had planned this.

“Pretty things like you are born to bring men like me heaven,” he whispered as his hand bit into my shoulder forcing me down to my knees.

Tears slipped from my eyes, and I squeezed them shut.

Sometimes, years later I would have nightmares about hearing that man’s fly open for the first time.

Part of me was still stuck in that room at Mount Ezra Baptist Church.

The other half me though, she was young, wild and free.

And she didn’t fucking believe in love or men because they were all the same and, in the end, all they did was take.

Chapter 1

Rain

The sweet smell of burning incense surrounded me, as I stared into the mirror. Taking a deep breath, I looked away and stared down at the cards in my hands. Slowly, I began to shuffle them. The cards easing through my fingers feeling worn and smooth from years of use. With the question held deeply in my mind, and the urge to suddenly stop. I cut the cards into three separate mini decks.

Past.

Present.

Future.

That was what each mini deck represented.

Another breath escaped as I turned the cards over. I’d been reading them for the last hour and the same cards had seemed to pop up. Over and over again, I’d been confronted by The Lovers, The Tower and Death.

“Fuck this!” I gave in to frustration and flung the tarot cards across the room. The second they exploded in a colorful array, I regretted throwing them.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing deeply before moving to rub my temples.

---