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“Who would have thought?”

“Mercy? With Draco? I never would have guessed.”

I straighten my tie, smooth down my jacket, and fold my hands in front of me as I continue down the aisle.

My work is done.

Everything is perfect.

I never have to come back here again.

Outside, the rain has stopped. Sunlight breaks through the clouds, and in the distance, over the trees, I can see the arch of a rainbow. As I step out the double doors, the pastor’s voice resumes, continuing his sermon. Except his words are hollow now.

No one is listening.

They’re all thinking about Mercy.

About me.

About the video.

When the double doors slide shut behind me, I stand on the steps of the church looking out over the parking lot. I find my car, a low shadow that doesn’t fit with the others, way in the back of the lot.

Mercy isn’t there.

I look to my right, to a row of benches and tables.

Nothing.

Mercy is gone.

Chapter 27

Mercy

My lungs burn as I gulp down air. It tastes like rain and dirty car exhaust, and I gag on it, my stomach churning and flopping, but not bringing anything up.

I need to run. I need to get away from here.

I need to get away from him.

But the thought hurts and I don’t know why.

What’s wrong with me?

My heels wobble as I stumble down the uneven sidewalk.

I don’t know how to carry all this pain.

I don’t know what to do.

My Sunday dress clings to my back, damp with sweat and wrapping around my body like cling wrap. Each breath comes ragged and shallow, pulling against my ribs like they’re bound with barbed wire. Puddles reflect the blue sky like broken mirrors, and I refuse to look into them.

I don’t wanna see myself.

I don’t wanna see the pain in my face.

The street stretches before me, populated with Sunday afternoon strollers—families holding hands, couples window shopping, all these normal people living normal lives untouched by what’s happening to me.