The Blessed - By Tonya Hurley Page 0,78
and frustration at him and herself spewed from her. She grabbed him by the balls and squeezed. Hard.
“You jealous lying little bitch,” Lucy said, as Jesse moaned in pain. “Always sticking your nose in other people’s business, ruining lives.”
“It’s all true, Lucy. You’re brainwashed. Or drugged.”
“Does anyone else know where we are?” she said through her clenched teeth.
“No, no,” Jesse said, breathless and beginning to heave.
“Good. And you won’t tell anyone, will you?”
“I swear. I won’t.”
“You swear? I’m not impressed,” she said, twisting just a little harder.
“Let him go,” Sebastian said.
Lucy stepped back and Jesse fell to his knees at Sebastian’s feet, gagging and coughing.
“You’re going to let me leave?” Jesse asked incredulously. “How do you know I won’t call the police as soon as I split?”
“I don’t,” Sebastian said, handing Jesse his cell phone, turning his back on him.
Lucy stood alone, eye-to-eye with Jesse, who wiped the spittle and humiliation from his chin. “He hasn’t done anything. I have decided to open my own eyes.”
Jesse had seen this look of purpose and determination many times before. But never with this intensity. She was different.
“Come with me,” Jesse said, making one last pitch. “We can turn this cult-bride thing around. You are trending bigger than ever.”
“It’s only curiosity,” Lucy said. “Just get out of here. The sight of you makes me hate myself.”
“You need me,” he said unconvincingly, like a needy ex-boyfriend kicked to the curb.
“I used to think so.”
Her rejection turned his insecurity into stone-cold spite.
“You know what? Stay here and play haunted homeless with that murderer. Next thing I write about you will be your obituary.”
“Make sure you use a good picture,” Lucy sniped.
She walked closer to him. Put her face in his. “I saved your life just now, Jesse. I won’t do it again. If you tell anyone where we are,” she said, grabbing him by the balls one last time for good measure and forcing him up on his tiptoes, “I will kill you.”
He’d longed for her to look deep into his eyes. But not like this.
Lucy turned away from him and walked toward the others as he made his way through the wreckage of the storm, to the exit. She didn’t need to see Jesse go. She knew he wouldn’t stick around after that.
“Jesse might be a lot of things,” Lucy argued. “But brave is not one of them. It took a lot for him to come here and say what he did. Now it’s your turn to confess.”
His truth spilled out. A truth that was beyond belief.
“You are blessed. Chosen. Each of you,” he said over folded hands. “It’s what led you here.”
“Blessed by who? Dead railroad workers?” Lucy asked. “Is that what you expect us to believe?”
“Look, I’m not here to judge you,” Cecilia continued. “But mental hospitals and murder don’t exactly speak to credibility.”
“Just tell us the truth,” Agnes pleaded, taking his hand.
“The truth is inside you now as it is in me. There is nothing else I can say.”
There was really nothing left for any of them to say.
“No more riddles. No more wasted time. The truth is you’re crazy and you’ve made us crazy too,” Lucy said.
“There has always been something inside. Something that has made you feel different. I felt that too. There is more to this life for you, and deep down you’ve always sensed that. You don’t have to struggle or feel frustrated anymore. That is what brought you here. And that is why you stayed.”
The room fell dead silent.
“No, that is why I’m leaving,” Lucy said.
Cecilia agreed reluctantly. “The storm is over. It’s time to go.”
“My mom must be worried sick,” Agnes said sheepishly, letting her hand slip from his. “Don’t worry. We won’t tell a soul.”
The three removed their chaplets, collected their things, and headed up the aisle like runaway brides. They squeezed through the doorway and disappeared into the glowing light of dawn.
Jesse stared at the blinking cursor for so long he felt nearly hypnotized by it. Paralyzed was probably more like it. His voice mail, which he was playing over and over, was filling up with messages from the cops asking for a meeting. The tone was getting decidedly less cordial.
The story was fresh in his mind. He knew exactly what he wanted to say but not if he really wanted to say it. It wasn’t the threats from Lucy, although he’d never seen her quite so adamant before. It was just an uneasy feeling he had ever since he’d left the church,