Page 19 of Body and Soul

I squeezed his shoulder, trying to ground him. “Breathe, Eli. Nice and slow.”

He struggled to comply, squeezing his eyes shut. Gradually, his breathing evened out, but the tension remained coiled tight in every line of his body.

“I can't go back to living on the streets,” he said, eyes glassy. “I can't. Anything's better than that. Even—”

Eli cut himself off, pressing his lips into a tight line as if the words were too painful to speak. But I could fill in the blanks.

“Even going back to the Children of the Light,” I supplied.

Eli's head jerked up, eyes wide with shock. “How did you know?..”

I held his gaze steadily, unflinching. “When you agreed to meet me for coffee the other day, I mentioned that I had also escaped from a cult years ago.”

His brow furrowed as he searched his memory. Then realization dawned, quickly followed by suspicion. “You never said which cult.”

I hesitated, warring with myself. Revealing this part of my past went against every instinct, every hard-learned lesson about guarding my vulnerabilities. But if I wanted Eli to trust me, to open up about his own trauma, I needed to lead by example.

Slowly, I stood from the couch and turned my back to him. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my slacks and tugged downward, exposing my right hip. There, stark against my skin, was a symbol burned into my flesh. The same mark burned into his.

I heard Eli's sharp intake of breath behind me. “You're one of them,” he said, voice flat.

I fixed my clothing and turned to face him again. “I was. A long time ago.” I searched his guarded expression, willing him to understand. “They stole my childhood, subjected me to their twisted idea of salvation. It took me years to break free of their hold on my mind.”

Eli stared at me, eyes haunted by the shadows of memories I knew all too well. How deep had he been in their dealings? How close to Father Ezekiel’s twisted inner circle had he been?

His gaze skittered away from mine, focusing on a point over my shoulder. His fingers plucked at a loose thread on his jeans, unraveling it further. “I was there for five years,” he said quietly. “All that time, I never made it past being a Seeker. I never got into the inner workings of the cult, but…”

The unspoken 'but I saw enough' hung heavily between us, a reminder of the scars we both carried. No matter how brief, anyexposure to the cult's inner workings left scars. I knew that all too well.

A soft knock at the door shattered the charged silence. Gavin entered, his movements precise and efficient as always, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil lingering in the room. He carried a tray with a steaming mug of tea and a plate of sandwiches. Setting it on the side table, he turned to me with a respectful nod.

“Is there anything else you need, sir?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, thank you Gavin. That will be all for now.”

As he made to leave, I caught the briefest flicker of concern in his cool gray eyes as they darted to Eli's huddled form on the couch. For a split second, his facade cracked, lips tightening before he steeled himself, restoring the calm professionalism I’d grown accustomed to. It was gone in an instant, his professional mask firmly back in place. But I knew him well enough to read the unspoken question.

Gavin had been with me for years, steadfastly weathering all the mercurial shifts in my temperament. He knew about my... condition. About the splintered facets of my psyche that warred for dominance. And he had learned how to manage me. How to tell all my alters apart and to adjust my schedule accordingly. It was thanks to his help that I could muddle through daily life when the switches were frequent.

After Gavin left, closing the door softly behind him, I turned back to Eli. He watched me from the couch, his brow furrowed and lips pressed together, as if weighing my intentions like a seesaw balancing on the edge.

I gestured to the tray Gavin had brought. “Eat, Eli.”

Eli’s gaze darted between the sandwiches and my face, his stomach rumbling audibly as he hesitated, fingers twitching at his sides, caught in a battle between hunger and uncertainty.After a long moment, the basic need won out, and he reached for one with a trembling hand. He took a small bite, chewing slowly as if savoring the taste of real food. I wondered how long it had been since he'd had a decent meal.

As he ate, I retrieved two fresh bottles of water from the cooler, placing one in front of him. I claimed the other for myself, focusing on the cool plastic against my palm.

“Gavin seems to know you well,” Eli said abruptly, breaking the silence. There was a note of something in his voice that I couldn't quite parse. Envy, perhaps? Or longing for a similar connection?

I considered Eli's comment about Gavin as I took a sip of the hot tea. “He's been my assistant for a long time,” I said after a moment. “He knows how I operate.”

Eli's eyes flickered with a storm of emotions before he looked down, fingers pressing into the soft bread as if he could find answers hidden within. “Must be nice,” he muttered. “Having someone like that.”

I studied Eli as he took another small bite of his sandwich, noting the way his shoulders hunched inward defensively. Even as he ate, his body remained tensed, a coiled spring ready to flee at the first sign of threat.

Setting down my water, I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees. “Eli,” I said, keeping my voice low and steady. “Tell me what happened earlier. What has you so shaken?”

Eli froze mid-chew, eyes darting up to meet mine before skittering away again. He swallowed hard, throat bobbing. For a long moment, he said nothing, gaze fixed on his hands as they methodically tore the crust from his sandwich.

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