The Sinners of Saint Amos - Logan Fox Page 0,38

coming into the kitchen.

“Sister, he—” I point behind me, and even turn a little to make it clear who I’m accusing.

Don’t ever turn your back on an angry nun.

She grabs my ear and yanks so hard I swear it almost comes off. I yell and shoot to my tiptoes so my ear doesn’t tear free.

“Enough,” Miriam snaps. “Enough, enough, enough!” The last word booms through the kitchen like a bomb going off.

Where there’d been the idle clatter of pans and cutlery, everything cuts off. The handful of people inside the kitchen are all staring at me.

Then Sister Miriam does the unthinkable.

She drags me out of the kitchen and through the dining hall…by my fucking ear.

Tears streak down my cheeks from the pain and humiliation, but I already know that whatever’s coming next is going to be a thousand-fold worse.

This is what happens when you fight back, Trinity.

Should’ve eaten the goddamn gruel. But no. Suddenly, you think you deserve a slice of normal.

Wrong.

So very fucking wrong.

No one in this place is your friend. They’ll never be your friend. Even Gabriel’s already trying to get rid of you. Maybe you should pack your things and start walking.

The forest will be more hospitable than this place.

Chapter Twenty

Trinity

Thankfully, Miriam doesn’t drag me all the way by my ear. A few yards outside the dining hall, close to the small prayer room, she releases me.

With a flick of her arm, she consults her little watch and then glares at me for a second. Her eyes move to the prayer room. She points. “You stay in there until I come for you.”

When I don’t move, she grabs me by my collar and drags me bodily through that little arched door. I stumble when she shoves me inside and catch my knee on one of the chairs. Whimpering, I turn as she starts closing the door in my face.

She pauses when there’s little more than her face showing. “Best you pray to God that I’ve cooled down before I come back, else you won’t have a strip of hide left.”

She bangs the door in my face.

I cup my ear, massaging at my itchy, stretched skin where it meets my scalp with one hand and rubbing my knee where I bumped my leg with the other.

“Are you all right?”

No.

No, no, no, no, no!

Come on!

I spin on legs that feel like they’ve turned to rubber. A big shape unfolds from the small chancel and slowly turns to face me.

Reuben.

I swallow an angry sob and move back, fumbling behind me for the handle. After everything that’s happened today, the only logical conclusion is that I’m about to die.

Terror traps a broken scream in my throat when I don’t find the handle. When my fingertips brush blank wood. I don’t dare look around, because then he’ll pounce me and do God knows what to me.

Maybe bash my head on the floor till my skull cracks open.

Fuck, he could probably crush my head between his hands if he wanted.

“Please.”

Wood.

Wood.

Brick.

“Don’t.”

Reuben ducks his head, and slowly replaces his rosary.

Brick.

Wood.

Brick.

Where the fuck is the door handle?

I have to risk it.

I glance around, all the while my skin crawling with invisible tarantulas.

He’s still standing by the pulpit. He hasn’t moved closer. My heart thumps in relief, but I don’t stop looking for the handle.

“Let me show you,” he says, and steps closer.

I let out a small squeal of panic and turn my back fully so I can find the damn handle.

But there’s nothing there—just smooth wood.

I’m locked inside with a psycho.

My stomach plummets to hell.

“Where’s the handle?” I yell, turning back to him. He’s closer now, but not like the first time I saw him here. He’s taking his time, edging forward as if he knows there’s no rush.

“I can show you,” he says calmly. “But only if you promise to calm down.”

“Sure. I’m calm. See?” I sweep out my arms and then hug them to my chest. I step back as far as I can, practically disappearing into the corner of the small room as he reaches me.

“Why are you so scared of me?”

Because you’re psychotic!

“I’m not. It’s Miriam. I don’t want to be here when she gets back.”

“You’ll get in trouble if you run away.”

“I don’t care!” I hastily lower my voice. “I mean, she knows where to find me. And I really have to pee. I’ll get her outside.”

“You haven’t prayed yet.”

Fuck. Fuck!

He’s just standing there.

Liar. He won’t open the door for me. It was just an excuse to get closer without me