Page 177 of Saving Sparrow
“Oh!” Elliott called out. Kayden slammed on the brakes. Elliott stuck his head out the window, smiling. “You have my permission!”
Quentin and I gave each other a look as they peeled away, both remembering the “rules” at the same time.
“What do you say? Should we pass the time with a little dicking down?” I asked playfully.
“Only if we do it on the roof.” Quentin chased me up the stairs, laughing as we went. We grabbed a blanket, snacks, water, and lube before heading up to the deck.
We had sex, talked, and laughed until it was time to get Elliott. He talked animatedly about his night the whole ride home.
He didn’t ditch his masculine clothes right away, but a camisole with baggy jeans eventually graduated to summer dresses with heels. His confidence grew more and more each day, and drag night became a permanent fixture in our lives.
I learned how to drive, Quentin found his mother sophomore year, and Elliott became a fashion major. He was a natural with a needle and thread. We lived, learned, and loved. We grew, both together and as individuals.
The years breezed by. Quentin got drafted to the NFL, and we bought the house of our dreams. We ditched the McAllen and Holland legacies, taking on my mother’s maiden name.Ramirez.
We committed ourselves to each other, exchanged rings, and made promises we swore never to break. Things couldn’t have gotten any better; we couldn’t have loved or wanted each other more—until the unthinkable happened.
Miguel
Now
We spent the whole day reading and kissing in bed. Sparrow even shirked his laundry and cleaning duties. I tried talking him into moving the following day’s festivities to the bedroom, but he said it would ruin his “big surprise.” He wouldn’t cave—not to the move or my plea to know what he had planned—not even when I tried tickling hints out of him.
When we were hungry, he brought us food, and we exchanged literary opinions on Shakespeare while he fed me. When I shivered, he added more wood to the fire, and when I yawned, he held me until I fell asleep. Sparrow was kind and attentive, and I fell harder with each passing hour.
I knew something was wrong when I woke up alone. A sinking feeling filled my stomach as the last of the embers died out in the hearth. He’d left without stoking the fire.
I couldn’t find him anywhere. I even searched the part of the house that frightened me most, where not even Sparrow ventured to.
Grabbing the spare key, I checked all the other bedrooms. Well, except for the last one. Someone was in there. I could feel them. I just didn’t know who.
I slipped the key into the lock, pausing when the hall lights flickered. I ignored the rapid beating of my heart and slipped inside.
A Bible lay open on the bed, and crucifixes lined the black walls. Light shone beneath the closet door, low grunts coming from within. I crept over to it, opening it slowly.
Inside, a man knelt, sweaty and naked, flogging himself in front of an altar, his hair braided into a crown atop his head. I gripped thedoorframe in shock. The leather tails cracked against his back, leaving welts behind. He worked with determination, biting out scriptures between each blow.
“‘Purify me and I shall be clean…’”
Lash…
“‘Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow…’”
Lash…
“‘Don’t cast me from your presence…’”
Lash…
“‘Or…Or t-take your Holy Spirit from me…’”
Lash…
The last strike broke skin, but he took it stoically.
“S-stop!”
He paused with an eerie calm, keeping his scarred back to me. His shoulders rose and fell as he kept his gaze fixed on the altar. “What name do you go by, demon?”
