Page 12 of Turn That River Red

I tense beneath Reverend Gunner, instinctively lifting my chest. He pushes me back down.

“Almost—done—” he pants.

Someone’s out there. The thought stirs, but I don’t say it. There can’t be someone out there. Not at midnight. Not in Reverend Gunner’s backyard.

Someone killed Raul.

My heart pounds wildly. Not on the campus, I remind myself. Out in the secular world. The campus is locked at night. Guarded during the day by the Soldiers of God, all the young men of our congregation.

Young men like Raul…

The shadow moves again, fluttery as a ghost. Thereissomeone out there.

“Reverend,” I whisper, fear tight in my chest.

“Say my name, Mercy,” he moans softly. “You’re gonna say my name as you come.”

I want to shove his sweating, thrusting body off me. I want to jerk the curtains shut and run into the little bathroom and stand under the hot water to rinse all this sin away.

But I can’t. Reverend Gunner has me pinned down against the mattress, and the shadow moving outside comes closer. Steps up to the window.

I cry out, my voice strangled and terrified. Reverend Gunner chuckles.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts. “Come for Daddy.”

A pale face peers into the glass, and with a shuddery, horrible jolt, I realize who it is.

Pastor Ambrose.

It’s undeniably him. I memorized his face this morning. He peers into the glass, sweeping his gaze around--

And then his eyes meet mine.

I want to scream. I want to weep.

Ambrose tilts his head, eyebrow arched. Reverend Gunner keeps thrusting into me, oblivious that we have an audience. And I’m too terrified to tell him.

And then Ambrose lifts his hand like he’s waving to me.

He smiles.

His lips move. I have no idea what he’s saying, but his eyes never leave mine. They bore into me with that same intensity as earlier, like he’s flaying my soul apart.

“There it is!” Reverend Gunner shouts, slamming himself completely into me, groaning as his hot, sticky wetness floods into me. Every muscle in my body goes rigid.

“You liked that,” Reverend Gunner says. It’s not a question.

“Y-yes,” I stammer, forcing myself to look up at him.

“Felt you come.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. I’ve never had an orgasm. I don’t think I can. But still, I nod, too scared to speak.

When Reverend Gunner rolls off me, I flick my gaze back over to the window.

It’s empty.

CHAPTER SIX

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