Page 1 of Body and Soul

March

I drummed my fingersagainst the cracked tabletop, each tap echoing the mounting anxiety in my chest. The clock above the smudged diner window ticked ominously past nine o’clock.

She’s late. A pit formed in my stomach, heavy and oppressive.Maybe she isn’t coming at all.

After all the broken promises and the years spent apart, it felt like a cruel joke, the kind that twisted like a knife in my gut.

The waitress ambled over, her tired eyes glancing at me with a hint of pity, as if she could sense the storm raging beneath my skin. “Sure I can't get you anything else, hon?” she asked, her voice slow and syrupy, like molasses thickening the air.

I shook my head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “No, thank you.”

She shrugged, retreating with the clatter of her tray, leaving me alone again. I scanned the parking lot, straining for the glow of headlights that would signal her arrival. Instead, only the sickly yellow light of the streetlamps illuminated the stillness, casting long shadows that felt like ghosts haunting the edges of my thoughts. The occasional flicker of a moth diving at the bulbs was the only life in the air, a reminder of how trapped I felt.

Taking a swig of coffee, I winced as the scalding liquid burned a path down my throat, a grounding pain against my spiraling thoughts. What would Dani be like now? An adult, so far removed from the girl I remembered, yet still tethered to me by the invisible threads of our shared past.

It had been years since I last saw her, even longer since we’d had a real conversation. I had escaped the cult at eleven, running headlong into a world that felt like a foreign land. Dani hadn’t even been born then. Without my mother’s occasional letters, I might never have known about her at all.

Our first meeting was etched in my mind like a scar. I still remembered stepping into that sterile hospital room, the stench of antiseptic biting at my nostrils. There she was, sitting by our mother’s bedside, dark hair cascading like a tangled curtain down her back. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with fear and curiosity. The weight of our shared past pressed down on us, thick and suffocating. Her bottom lip trembled, as if she was fighting back tears. She’d seemed so small, so fragile.

Since then, we’d exchanged the occasional text on birthdays and holidays, always agreeing to meet at this diner—one of the few places the cult allowed her to visit with an escort. But now that she was eighteen and our mother was gone, I needed to convince Dani to leave the cult, to come to safety. It wouldn’t be easy. Not since they had fed her a steady diet of lies and manipulation, indoctrinating her completely. Breaking free from that mental conditioning would be a Herculean feat.

But I had to try. I owed it to her, to the bond we shared as siblings, no matter how strained it had become. I couldn’t leave her there, trapped in a toxic cycle of abuse. The thought of her remaining in that dark place, under Ezekiel’s thumb, sent a shiver down my spine.

The waitress topped off my coffee for the third time as headlights finally pierced the darkness, momentarily blinding me. I blinked to clear the spots from my vision as a battered blue sedan pulled into the lot, the tires crunching against the gravel.

The driver’s side door swung open, and a figure emerged. Even from a distance, I recognized her—the slight hunch of her shoulders as if she wanted to shrink into nothing. Dani paused by the car, scanning her surroundings with wary eyes, a deer caught in headlights. After a long moment, she squared her shoulders, the weight of the world pressing down, and walked toward the diner.

She was taller than I remembered, thinner too, her cheeks hollow from a hard life. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, every strand perfectly in place, a prison of her own making. The long-sleeved dress she wore fell past her knees, but it did little to hide the fragility beneath.

Two men flanked her, dressed in dark slacks and button-down shirts, exuding a menacing aura that set my teeth on edge. A muscle ticked in my jaw as I glared at her escorts, every instinct screaming for me to protect her from them.

Dani approached my table hesitantly, her steps cautious. I stood to greet her, my chair scraping against the scuffed linoleum, the sound grating in the tense air. “Dani, it’s good to see you.”

“Dexter.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling as if the name held a weight she couldn’t bear.

I flinched at the name the cult had given me. “It’s Shepherd now.” I gestured for her to sit.

She perched on the edge of the vinyl chair, her spine rigid, as if ready to bolt at any moment. The watchdogs took up positions nearby, their hawkish gazes missing nothing, their presence a constant reminder of the chains that bound her.

I sat down, studying my sister across the table. She looked thin, brittle, like a stiff wind could snap her in two. The years had not been kind. I swallowed hard, emotions swelling in my throat. “I'm glad you came.”

Dani’s gaze flicked to mine, then skittered away, as if she couldn’t bear to hold my gaze. “I almost didn’t,” she admitted, her hands twisting together in her lap, the fidgeting a silent plea for comfort. “But Father Ezekiel said it was important to reach out to those who have lost their way. Provide them with a way back from the dark, if they want it.”

I suppressed a surge of anger at the mention of the cult leader’s name. Father Ezekiel—the man who stole our childhood and twisted our sense of right and wrong—still held my sister in his thrall. What kind of hold did he have on her? How deeply had he embedded himself in her mind?

“Dani, listen to me,” I said, leaning forward, lowering my voice so the watchdogs couldn’t overhear. “You don’t have to go back there. You have a choice.”

Her eyes darted to the men nearby and then back to me, fear flickering across her features. “I’ve made my choice. There’s nothing for me out here.”

I reached across the table, hovering my hand over hers, but she pulled back, wrapping her fingers tightly in her lap, a barrier against the world.

“You don’t understand, Shepherd,” she whispered. “It’s not that simple. I have obligations. Responsibilities to the family.”

“The cult, you mean,” I said, bitterness creeping into my voice. “They’re not your family, Dani. I am. You and I—we’re blood.”

She flinched at that, tears welling in her eyes, the conflict raging inside her evident. “Don’t say that. I can’t turn my back on them. On Ezekiel. I…I love him.”

My jaw clenched, a wave of nausea rising in my gut. I stared at Dani in disbelief as her words hit me like a punch. How could she love him?

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