Page 60 of Doesn't Count

“What is he talking about? Prepare for what?” I question.

May sits down next to me, our knees touching. She wipes the palms of her hands along her dress, avoiding eye contact.

“When a girl turns eighteen, she must be ready. In the church, the most honorable thing for a woman is to carryFather’schild. He only selects a few each year, but there are certain things he likes, and those things take practice.” She explains, her fingers twisting together.

A stampede of rage tramples a hole through my chest, my brain struggling to digest her words. “What the fuck?” I push to my feet, my fists clenched as if I held the strength to demolish this place with my bare hands. “We need to leave. May, we need to get you out of here! That’s not okay!”

She jumps to her feet, her eyes widened with panic. Small fingers grip my skinny arms. “Stop! Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s something I’ve prepared for my whole life. It’s my destiny to do this.”

I shake my head, trying to find the light inside her brainwashed eyes. “It’s not right. None ofthis is right!”

“Look,” she starts, pushing me back down onto the pew. “You heardFather’slecture today. We’re all human with natural instincts. This is just one of those things. Forget everything else, it’s just us now.”

“May?” I want to shake her, to smack some sense into her because this is anything but normal.

“Please, I need you to do this with me.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I don’t think you understand how badly I need this.” Then she whispers, “My life depends on this.”

Of course it does.

Any order that goes ignored is met with severe punishment. Especially a direct order fromFather. I would know. Only this is one of those times that I’m not the only one that will suffer for my disobedience.

There’s a sense of fear that’s taken hold of May at the thought that I don’t want to do this. I mean, why would I? When something like this is forced, it takes the pleasure right out of it. I should be taking her to see a movie, sharing popcorn, and kissing her at the end of the night. Not denying her in an empty church because she’s following an order.

“Please.” She lets the tears fall, her eyes begging.

“I don’t-” I expel a deep sigh. “I don’t have a condom.”

“It’s okay, I do. Plus, all girls are on birth control until they’re chosen.” There’s relief in her voice, her hope causing my intestines to twist.

My throat is so dry it's like swallowing shards of glass. As a teenage boy, you’d think I would be thrilled to have a girl like May beg me for sex, but no part of me is excited. Ever since I lost my virginity a year ago, I haven’t thought about it once. The very memory making me nauseous and the fact that she actually wants this, forhimno less, makes this so much worse.

Her lips tug in a small, reassuring smile as I give her a slight nod.

She rubs my shoulders. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll teach you everything they’ve taught me.”

Ashton

Time ticks away, another month passing as we press on through the tour. The last few days have been long as we make our way to Chicago from California. I’m eager to be back in my hometown, ready to spend time with my parents and Sam, regain some normalcy in my life again.

The long stretch from the West Coast to the Windy City is brutal at best. We’re all riddled with cabin fever. Khaos and I have even bottled up our resentment towards each other for the sake of the guys, saving them from losing it completely. We bottle it up so tightly that some nights we lay there side by side, just fuming with unspoken fury. Our breaths rabid, our chests heaving, but not a word. Not a single touch either, not since he came down my throat.

But as I lay there in bed some nights, it’s all I can think about. The way he took control, the sound of his pleasure, how he etched himself inside of me.

“You can’t erase the taste of me, Eris.”

His words haunt me. I can still hear them, still feel what hewas doing to me as he said them. I hate that night after night I find myself squeezing my thighs together, wishing he’d just cave and touch me. I know I told him that what we did could never happen again, but I lied. I’m feigning for his rage, for his punishing hands, for anything really.

I can’t stand this plateau we’ve come to find ourselves on. Like two ghosts co-existing in the same space. The tension between us is as taut as a stretched rubber band and I’m just waiting for it to snap.

As a way to avoid opening Pandora’s box all over again, I busy myself with work. I stand by the leather couch while the four of them sit at the table, staring into my camcorder.

“So, I’m curious. Is there an underlying meaning to your song, The Light?” I ask.

They all look to Khaos, since he’s the one that writes these songs. He looks hesitant to answer, so I simplify the question.

“For example, in one of the versus you wrote –

“Death is just a friendly face, an old acquaintance.

---