Kandace closed her eyes and pretended she was there now. She heard the words Scarlett had said, so long ago, when she’d found Kandace crying after her mother had rejected her once again: You’re stronger than you think you are, she’d whispered, taking her hand.
You’re stronger than you think you are. The words repeated in her head now, like a mantra, like a life raft in a sea of misery and pain.
Because the thing was, Scarlett had offered her that same grace even after she’d fallen. She’d reached out her hand but Kandace hadn’t taken it. Not that time.
She’d eventually been sent to Lilith House. And there was no grace here, only shame.
“If we confess our sins,” Ms. Wykes’s voice broke through her thoughts, “He is faithful and just and will forgive us and purify us from unrighteousness. Isn’t that right, Ms. Thompson?”
Kandace moved her eyes toward her but didn’t answer.
“Are you ready to confess your sins?”
You’re stronger than you think you are. “Yes, Ms. Wykes.”
She smiled. “Good. Tell the other girls what you have done, and why you required cleansing.”
Kandace moved her eyes toward the other girls. Her gaze met that of Lucille, the girl she’d passed in the hallway and the girl lowered her eyes, a flash of guilt moving over her expression. She’d followed Kandace. She’d seen her entering Ms. Wykes’s office. She’d told on her. Which meant . . . it was all they knew? She pulled her shoulders back very slightly, holding back the sob of pain. You’re stronger than you think you are. She looked from one classmate to the other, hoping they could see in her gaze that though she was bent—burned and bloodied—she was not broken. “I snuck into Ms. Wykes’s office to find the drugs I brought with me,” she said. “Drugs, a tool of the devil.” She let her head fall slightly.
“Yes, drugs, a tool of the devil, indeed,” Ms. Wykes said. “Will you cast away all tools of Satan from this moment forward, Ms. Thompson?”
“Yes, Ms. Wykes.”
“Why? Why will you do that?”
She looked at her in confusion for a moment, and then realized what she wanted from her. “Because,” her voice cracked, “my utmost for His glory.”
Ms. Wykes nodded proudly, like one of her students who had formerly been severely lacking suddenly showed a sign of possibility. “Yes, Ms. Thompson. All that you are. All that you must cast away. All that you must relinquish and forsake. Your utmost for His glory. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I understand. My utmost for His glory,” Kandace repeated weakly. Behind her, the sun blazed. On her wrists, the cord bit into her bloody flesh. She cringed and shook, biting the inside of her cheeks to keep from passing out. Her eyes, so, so heavy, lifted slightly to capture Ms. Wykes in her fiendish satisfaction.
“Repeat after Ms. Thompson, girls,” Ms. Wykes said, turning toward the other students. They repeated the words in a low monotone.
Ms. Wykes, a pleased smile on her lips, raised her arms in the air and sang out the words herself, throwing her head back as though in ecstasy. “Now then. Shall we begin our service?”
Kandace wavered in and out of consciousness as the service droned on, but she didn’t let the pain make her cry out again, and not a tear slipped from her eye. Instead, she repeated the line Scarlett had whispered so lovingly to her all those years ago, drawing strength not only from the memory, but from the fact that her friend had said them with such conviction. She had believed in Kandace, and she had hoped Kandace would believe in herself too. She hadn’t then.
I will now, she promised her friend. I’ll try.
When at long last, the service was over, Kandace was untied and lowered gently, almost reverently. She bore her own weight, testing her tailbone that still ached terribly, but was not nearly the worst of her pain. Kandace let out a slow exhale as a light cloth was wrapped around her body.
They helped her shuffle back up to her room and then one of the other instructors came in, not meeting her eyes as she slathered burn cream over her skin. She lay down on her bed with a groaning sob and was tucked in under the sheets.
A few minutes after the door had shut behind them, her roommates came into the room, kneeling down next to her, their eyes red and puffy, their expressions full of anguish. Sydney reached out tentatively to touch her, perhaps to smooth the strands of hair back that had fallen over Kandace’s brow, but pulled away, her hand trembling. “My God,” she whispered. “What did they do to you?”
“I’ll be okay,” Kandace said, voice gritty with pain. She hadn’t looked in a mirror. She didn’t know what she looked like, but she had to figure her skin would scab over and heal, that they hadn’t gone deep enough to scar. She was going to feel like she had the worst sunburn of her existence for a while. She was going to be unable to sleep for at least a week as her raw skin stuck to her sheets. Her bruised tailbone was going to cause her to cry out each time she sat up. But she was going to be okay.
A tear rolled down Aurora’s cheek. “Hey,” Kandace said, “think of it as a free chemical peel. They basically gave me a cosmetic procedure that some women pay thousands for. When I leave this place, my complexion is going to be as soft as a baby’s ass.”
Both girls’ eyes darted to the door and then back to her. “Butt,” Kandace whispered. “Baby’s butt.” The girls both managed tremulous smiles.
Kandace adjusted herself on the bed, grimacing as a wave of nausea passed through her. “Oh God, I’m going to throw up,” she moaned.
Sydney jumped up and was back a few seconds later with the bathroom trash can. She slid it next to the bed in the nick of time as Kandace leaned over and vomited, the movement and the acid in her throat making her moan in pain once the worst of the stomach cramps had passed and she once again, came to rest on her pillow.
Aurora got her a glass of water and helped her drink and then, exhausted beyond anything she’d ever imagined, Kandace closed her eyes and miraculously managed to fall asleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“All buckled?” Scarlett asked, looking at Haddie in the rearview mirror. Haddie met her eyes, nodded.
Concern washed over Scarlett for the tenth time that morning. It appeared Haddie hadn’t slept at all the night before, lavender smudges marring the porcelain skin beneath her eyes, making the green of her orbs that much more startling.
As they began driving toward town to pick up Millie, Scarlett turned on the radio, adjusting the volume down low. Her gaze flickered to Haddie again, staring out the window at the forest rushing by. “You sure you feel better?” she asked. She’d questioned Haddie extensively the night before about wetting herself. Her daughter hadn’t peed her pants since she was twenty months old. She’d potty-trained early, and once she’d started wearing “big girl undies,” she hadn’t had one accident. That she’d wet herself the evening before was extremely concerning to Scarlett.
Of course, Haddie had brushed it off, saying she didn’t feel well and it was just an accident. She’d looked confused, torn though, and Scarlett got that feeling again that she was keeping something from her. Scarlett felt teary, frustrated. Alone. She’d slept like crap the night before too.