Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Keeping Flame’s hand in mine, I wrapped my free arm around Asher and kissed his cheek. “Asher,” I whispered. “You are okay,” I murmured positively, more to assure myself. “You are okay.” I felt the wetness of his tears against my cheek.
“He broke, Madds. He just fucking broke. Started talking to our poppa, and Pastor Hughes like they were alive. But, in reality, he was speaking to the cunts who captured us.” Asher’s breathing hitched. “He thought I was Isaiah. He really thought I was Isaiah.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to ward off the pain that threatened to destroy what was left of my heart. “Flame will be okay, Asher. We will fix him. We will heal him.” I dropped my head against Asher’s. “You are alive.” I exhaled in relief. “You are both alive.”
“Hello,” a soft voice sounded behind us. I turned my head to see Sister Ruth kneeling at the cage which held the naked girl with the sewn-up mouth. Ruth held out her hand. “I am Ruth. I can help you.” She smiled, kindly. I saw the sympathy in her smile too. “I understand your pain. I can help you.”
“Get the fuck back!” Viking shouted as he sprinted across the clearing. I did not understand what was happening until I saw the girl withdraw a knife from the leafy floor of the cell. Wrapping his arms around Ruth, Viking pulled her back onto the grass, well away from the knife. But I watched in horror as the knife did not threaten Ruth as we all assumed. Instead, the girl raised her hands, both clenching the handle of the knife, and she plunged it into her heart.
“No!” Ruth yelled, trying to scurry forward to help. She unlatched the door to the cage and took the blade from the girl’s clutches. My heart hammered in my chest as I saw the blood gushed from the girl’s chest. Even from this distance, I could see she had stopped breathing and her eyes had ceased to blink. Ruth struggled to cover the seeping wound with her hand. “No,” Ruth whispered as she fought to save the girl’s life.
“She’s gone,” Viking spoke quietly from beside her. He took hold of Ruth’s wrists.
“I had to try,” she stated, trying to pull away.
“She’s fucking gone. She stabbed herself in the heart. I ain’t no doctor like you and your kid, but I know that means she’s beyond fucked.” Ruth lifted her head and I caught the agony in her expression. Her brown eyes stared at the ground, as she let Viking lead her from the cage. Her white shirt was soiled by blood, lots of blood. My heart broke for her. I watched her eyes when she looked upon the girl. It was not just sympathy. It was deep understanding. I did not know what Ruth endured at the hands of The Order. But like us all, it would have been bad, very bad.
Rider worked on Flame’s surface wounds. “I’ve sedated him, Madds.” Rider went quiet, and then said, “He needs help, Maddie.” Rider’s gaze flitted over to AK and Asher who were listening. Rider sighed. “This is out of my fucking knowledge. I think… I think he might have had a psychotic breakdown, Madds. He needs help. He needs medical help. From a hospital. From psychiatrists, who know what they’re doing.”
“No.”
“Not a fucking chance,” AK echoed.
“The things he was saying,” Rider said. “He needs help.”
“He cannot stand hospitals,” I asserted and moved beside Flame to hold his hand tighter. I pushed my hand through Flame’s dark hair, not caring about the blood on my hand. He was my husband. I had to touch him. I had to be sure he was okay.
“They fucked him up before,” AK said. “He’s fucking terrified of them.”
“There are good doctors,” Rider argued. “Doctors who will listen and who will genuinely help him.”
“I can help him,” I countered, feeling my conviction grow. I tried to imagine Flame waking up in a hospital, a psychiatric hospital. He would not survive it, neither would the hospital. He would not cope. I knew this. So did AK. “He will be coming home with me. I have helped him before. I can do it again.”
“I didn’t see him before…” Rider trailed off. He was the prophet then, separated from the Hangmen. “But I’ve heard about it. I think, Madds, I think this time it’s worse?” The rush of pain in my heart told me I agreed. “You might not be able to help this time.”
“He is my husband,” I argued. “My Flame.” I smiled and kissed the back of his hand. Then kissed his wedding ring, the ones we exchanged alone, only the moon and stars our witnesses. “He knew me. Even in this troubled haze, he knew who I was.”