Page 16 of Cast Stones
Bzzz.
Beads of crimson burst from the join of the wall and the ceiling above me. I count them, one by one, as they gather and swell before succumbing to gravity, leaving perfect streaks of red down to the floor.
Like prison bars.
Like trail marks leading the way back to him.
To us.
Are they real?
Wincing, I sit up slowly while fighting back tears. I fix my bra before tugging the tails of my shirt together and looking around for my heels.
My mind is set. My mind is broken again.
I grab my bag, and then I’m gone.
Chapter Six
Judgment Day.
Most people devote their lives to preparation for it. They speak of it in hushed whispers. And whether they admit it or not, they live in fear of it, vehemently avoiding the pitfalls of temptation so as to serve their God. To appear favorable in His eyes in order to be deemed worthy enough to walk beside him in the Kingdom of Heaven.
The wages of sin is death.
My Judgment Day came ten years ago as I knelt on the dirty floor of that cabin, my hands pressed against my stomach, the coppery stench of my own sin seeping through my fingers. My temptation called my name in a shattered tone before turning her back and leaving me to die.
Run, Madi.
I wasn’t supposed to live. I had every intention of meeting the God I’d heard so much about that day, then demanding the answers his followers never gave.
And in case they lied, I also prepared to burn for all eternity as well.
Neither happened.
Instead, the blood staining my hands didn’t end my life; it gave it purpose. It pulled the knife from my stomach and placed it in my hand.
Run, Madi. Run while you still can.
Ten years, I’ve waited. Ten years, I’ve searched. I should have known God would have held her from me until now. The date is sacred. A number as branded as deeply into my skin as it is in my mind. It’s September, the month marking twelve years since I first saw her. Since I watched her chase a solitary ribbon floating on an uncommon breeze. It was meant to be this way. As much as I craved her—tasted my own blood in substitution of hers—our story was always written for twelve.
It’s the number of completion, after all.
It signifies the beginning and signals the end. The chance to wrap up this stage in life before moving on to the next. We are co-creators in our karma, and it has finally come to fruition.
Judgment Day.
And here I am again, facing another one. Another knife. More blood.
Only I’m not allowing Madi to run away this time. Instead, she’ll never run again. I’ve made sure of it. Because today, she’ll walk into a courtroom and sell her soul for mine.
The chains around my wrists rattle as I shift in my chair. I’ve been sitting in the same one for over an hour now waiting on her. The guards came for me at four o’clock this morning, my parting gift to Sledge, along with a missing tooth.
I told him that first day—I like souvenirs.
After a cold shower and a fresh jumpsuit, they shoved me into this room to wait.
And wait.
