in that bedroom, staring out of the window, praying desperately for Flame to step out from the line of trees.
But he never did.
Closing my eyes, I pictured him diving in front of that bullet to save my life. Then all I could see was blood.
Allowing my eyes to reopen, my head fell against the legs of the statue and my hand gripped over the empty ache in my chest. Instantly, my mind filled with him—dark eyes, dark short beard, slightly crooked nose and his huge tattooed body standing protectively under my window, blades in his hands.
I lost focus, staring at the hardwood floor of the church, but I lifted my head when my favorite sound began to play. The strings of a guitar echoed off the high walls. Then the soft keys of the piano joined the magical sound of the hymn that always made me smile. My hands began to slowly relax, and my body began to gently rock in time to the beat.
From where I sat, I could not see the choir, but I could hear them. It was why I came to Church. It was not for the religion, but for this madrigal music.
“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine…”
My lips moved, silently mouthing the lyrics. But I would not sing. I could not say the words aloud. I would never dare sing. I had always been taught that singing was forbidden, a sin. But I could listen. I could listen and feel safe… feel a flicker of happiness, if only for a few short minutes while the sweet sound continued.
The hymn played on, and I smiled, until the last pretty lyric faded away...
“Every day, every day, I’m gonna let my little light shine…”
Exhaling a slow deep sigh, I leaned further into the legs of the statue, content to listen to the rehearsal of the gospel choir. But in the brief silence between hymns, a sound outside of the church could be discerned.
“Maddie!”
My body straightened at the harsh and guttural roar screaming my name. My heart began thundering in my ears.
“Maddie!” The shouter called out again. My hands began to shake. The choir’s questioning murmurs could be heard from upstairs on their balcony. Pastor James’ office door swung open. She came rushing out, tension on her face. Pastor James, the woman who had invited me and my sisters into her church without question. The woman who had married Lilah and Ky just hours before. And the woman who had returned to the church shortly after me, so that I would not be here alone.
I became as still as the statue beside me, my body frozen in terror. Pastor James headed my way, concern written all over her face.
She opened her mouth to speak, when the deafening sound of an engine boomed beyond the doors, followed by another scream.
“MADDIE!” This call was louder, more frantic.
A hand touched my shoulder. Crying out at this unexpected touch, I scampered backward until my body became wedged between the wall of the altar and the statue of Jesus. My knees automatically came up to my chest and my arms immediately wrapped around my legs. Pastor James’ hands flew into the air as her eyes fell upon me. “Maddie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you.”
I tried to breathe, tried to shake off the feeling of Pastor James’ scalding touch on my body. But just as I managed to fill my lungs with air, the desperate call sounded again.
“MADDIE!”
Pastor James jumped to her feet and looked to the open front doors. Throwing me a glance, she nervously commanded, “Stay here, Maddie.”
A male member of the choir came running down the stairs from the balcony and he met Pastor James halfway down the aisle.
He looked my way after Pastor James said something to him and, together, they cautiously made their way to the entrance. I watched them intently, my eyes barely blinking, wondering what they would find.
“MADDIE!” the voice called again, its malevolent cutting rasp making me flinch. But then I heard something else that abated my fear.
“For fuck sake! The Bible Bashers are gonna call the pigs! You getting that asshole? Styx will skin your psycho ass! You just got fucking home!”
My hands stopped shaking at hearing the familiar voice and name. As the repeat call of “MADDIE!” filtered into the church, I jumped