Page 29 of Her Last Farewell

Andrea huddled against the cold metal of her cage, knees drawn tightly to her chest. The wire mesh pressed painful patterns into her back, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Every slight shift reminded her of where she was—trapped like an animal in a kennel. The concrete floor beneath her had long since leached all warmth from her body, leaving her with a bone-deep chill that seemed to mirror the ice in her veins.

Her bladder ached, growing more insistent with each passing hour. The bucket sat mockingly in the corner of her cage, its presence both a necessity and an indignity she wasn't ready to face. Was this part of his game? To watch proud, independent women reduced to using a bucket like animals? The thought of relieving herself here, in this cage, with only thin wooden walls between her and the other captives, made her want to cry. But she'd already shed too many tears in this basement prison.

The untouched peanut butter sandwiches lay where he'd pushed them through the feeding slot. Her stomach growled at the sight of it, but paranoia kept her from reaching for it. What if he'd laced it with something? Poison, drugs, or worse? The rational part of her mind argued that if he wanted to kill her, he had easier ways. But rationality had little place in this concrete tomb, where the single harsh bulb cast shadows that never seemed to move.

The creak of the basement door sent a shiver down her spine. Heavy footsteps descended the wooden stairs, each one making her curl tighter into herself. Their captor appeared, carrying an opened case of water bottles. His face wore that same placid expression it always did—like a kindly uncle bearing gifts rather than a monster keeping women in cages.

"Does anyone need fresh water?" he asked, his voice gentle in a way that made Andrea's skin crawl.

"You fucking psychopath!" The scream came from the cage to Andrea's right—the woman who'd been fighting back since Andrea arrived. In her fear and defeat, she could not remember the woman’s name. Monia? Sarah? Something like that. "I hope someone cuts your throat while you sleep! I hope you die screaming!"

Andrea flinched at the fury in the woman's voice.Please be quiet,she thought desperately.Don't make him angry. Please don't make him angry.

"You think you're some kind of savior?" the angry woman continued, rattling her cage. "You're nothing but a sick bastard who gets off on keeping women in cages! Some big man you are, drugging women and locking them up. Real brave!"

Their captor remained unnaturally calm, setting the case of water down with the same care a grocery clerk might use. The serenity in his expression never wavered, but something sparked in his eyes—not anger, but something worse. Zealotry.

"My dear children," he began, spreading his arms wide like a preacher at his pulpit. "Your anger is understandable. Your fear is natural. But you must understand that everything I do, I do out of love."

He began to pace the narrow space between their cages, his shoes clicking against the concrete in a steady rhythm. "Each of you stood at the edge of Patterson Bridge, ready to commit the gravest of sins. Ready to throw away God's most precious gift—the gift of life itself." His voice took on a sing-song quality, like he was reciting a familiar sermon. "But He guided me to you. He showed me how to save you."

"Save us?" the angry woman laughed bitterly. "You're keeping us in fucking dog kennels!"

"SILENCE!"he roared suddenly, making Andrea jump. His face had transformed, contorted with religious fury. "You blind, ungrateful children! Do you not see the miracle of your salvation? Do you not understand the grace being shown to you?"

He pressed himself against the angry woman's cage. Andrea could not see it, but she could hear the cage moving.. "When I found you, you were ready to leap into the darkness. Ready to embrace eternal damnation. But I—I alone—saw your worth. I alone understood that you needed to be saved from yourselves!"

"Go to hell," the woman spat, but her voice wavered slightly.

"Hell?" He laughed, a high, unsettling sound. "My child, I am saving youfromhell! 'For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.' Romans 6:23!" He pushed away from her cage and began pacing again, more frantically now, back and forth. Andrea wasn’t sure if she preferred to be able to see him or when he was out of her line of sight.

"Do you know how many souls I've saved? How many lost sheep I've gathered into my fold? Each of you—each precious life—was moments away from eternal damnation. Moments away from spitting in the face of God's love!" He stopped and pressed his hands together as if in prayer. "But I was there. I am always there, watching, waiting, ready to intervene when His children lose their way."

He took a deep breath at this point and then began speaking. Almost right away, he began quoting scripture rapidly, his words running together: "'The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit!' 'Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest!' 'Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me!'"

"You're just twisting words to justify being a monster," the angry woman said, but Andrea could hear the fear creeping into her voice now. She was pretty sure now that the woman’s name was Monica.

"A monster?" He pressed his hand to his chest, looking genuinely hurt. "I feed you. I keep you safe. I ensure you have water and shelter. I have never raised a hand to any of you. I have never taken advantage of you as others might. I am your shepherd, protecting you from the wolves of this world—and from yourselves!"

He suddenly dropped to his knees in the middle of the basement, raising his hands toward the ceiling. "Lord, give me strength to help these lost souls see Your light! Help them understand that their imprisonment here is nothing compared to the eternal prison they would condemn themselves to!"

"Please," Andrea found herself speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please let us go. I promise I won't—I won't try anything again. I want to live." The words tumbled out, desperate and pleading. "I have people who care about me, who are probably worried sick. Please. You’ve…you’ve shown me the way."

He turned to her cage, rising slowly from his knees, and his expression softened with what looked horrifyingly like genuine compassion. "Of course you will leave here one day, my child. All of you will. But only when you are truly ready—when your place can be taken by another lost soul in need of salvation."

"You mean when you murder us," Monica said quietly. "Like you murdered the woman who was in this cage before. Carla.”

“That…that was regrettable,” he admitted. “But it had to be done.”

"You're going to kill us," Andrea whispered, the truth of it settling like lead in her stomach. “Aren’t you?”

"Kill you? No, my child. I'm going to save you. 'For God so loved the world,'" he continued, his voice rising in intensity, "'that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.' John 3:16." His eyes took on a fanatic gleam. "But you—you would throw that sacrifice away! You would spit in the face of His love and mercy by taking your own lives!"

He was nearly shouting now, spittle flying from his lips as he gestured wildly. "Do you not understand? Every breath you take is a gift! Every heartbeat is precious! And yet you stood there, ready to cast it all away like it meant nothing!" He pressed his hands against his chest. "That is why I am here. That is why He chose me to be your shepherd."

"You're not a shepherd," Monica said. "You're just a sad little man who couldn't hack it as a real pastor. Is that it? Did they kick you out of your church? Did no one want to listen to your crazy sermons?"

His face darkened, and Andrea was sure this would be it—that was when he snapped and killed Monica. Maybe killed all of them.

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