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EIGHT

VALENTINE

P atients trickled through the door, taking up the pews on either side of the room. I looked forward to these sermons. Even if my teachings could get through to one person, it made a difference. Watching that light enter their eyes as soon as they understood, as soon as they welcomed Jesus Christ into their heart was a power in itself. It would bring them one step closer in their healing journey.

I stood at the front of the room, tapping my finger against my ear mic to make sure it worked properly. When satisfied, my gaze roamed around the room, taking in everyone who chose to join me today. There were a few new faces here, Archer included who I deemed a lost cause years ago. Why he was suddenly interested in religion was beyond me, but I had the smallest feeling that I already knew.

Rosalie Swanson.

I’d done my research on her after she came to my Wednesday class—as I did with every new patient who entered my door. Killed her abusive stepfather and accidentally murdered her little sister in the process. Authorities had reason to believe she didn’t realize what she was doing, and her subconscious wiped the slate clean in order to protect herself. Her case was…interesting.

When she stepped through the door, she scanned the room for open seating. Archer caught her eye and her posture went rigid. Interesting…

I’d expected her to sit in the back as she had done Wednesday, but she seemed to want to put as much distance between her and the asylum’s bad boy as possible, so she opted for the front row, sliding into an empty spot beside Tyler Mathis. Tyler was an equally special case. A pyromaniac with severe attention deficit disorder. Unable to resist the impulse, he accidentally set his entire school on fire, killing twelve kids and three teachers in the process.

Once everyone was here, I placed my hands on the podium before me. “If I could have everyone stand, please, I’d like us to say a quick prayer before we get started.”

I waited for them to obey, my fingers resting on the hard leather of my bible. “Lord father, I wanted to take this time to bless everyone who chose to show up today.” Except you, Archer. “Everyone in this room has been through something life-altering. They need you, Lord. I want to thank you for bringing them in, for helping them want to learn more about you and what you can offer. In Father’s name, amen.”

Almost everyone had their head bowed, their eyes closed, their eyebrows drawn as they hung onto my every word. That’s why I did this. Life wasn’t easy for me, either. It took a long time before I was able to get to this place. After my parents were murdered, I wanted revenge more than anything else in this world. In fact, it’s why I took the job here in the first place. Then…something changed. A realization settled deep into my mind, awakening me completely for the first time. Revenge wasn’t the answer. There was still resentment that I was working through, a hatred that stemmed deep within my body. All within due time, though. Nobody was perfect.

I turned toward the projector, digging the small button out of my pocket and hit play on the device. Music drifted through the speakers, a holy melody flooding through the room. Many people started following along, while others didn’t.

After a few songs, I turned the music off and flipped to where my bookmark lay, glancing down at the highlighted parts of scripture within my bible.

“If everyone could turn to Matthew 7:1-5, please. We’re going to talk about judgment.”

I waited a few moments before starting again. “Do not judge, for you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” The power of my words rattled me to the bone and guilt seeped in. We were all hypocritical in our own way, but that knowledge did little to make me feel better.

“Now, please turn to Luke 6:37-38.” The sound of pages turning flooded the room. Once they stopped, I continued. “Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you use it will be measured back to you.”

After a few more passages about judgement, I went on to read lessons from the bible pertaining to what we’d just talked about. Today was a smooth day with minimal outbursts. There were a couple of people who started talking to themselves as I read, but I’ve learned to tune them out unless they got violent or freaked out in other ways. I ended the sermon in one last prayer before letting everyone out to go about the rest of their day.

I stepped off the stage, making my way over to my office that sat off to the right near the room where we hosted Wednesday classes, but before I could close the door, Rosalie made her presence known, blocking the doorway. I arched an eyebrow, confusion and uncertainty blossoming within my chest. She clutched one of the bibles to her chest—the skirt and polo ensemble with stockings making her look like an innocent school girl.

“Sorry to bother you,” she said nervously, refusing to meet my gaze. “I was wondering if I could take this with me.” She held up the bible for emphasis. “I’ll bring it back Wednesday.”

My shoulders relaxed. “No need. We’re overflowing with bibles. If you want to keep it, go ahead.”

A sigh of relief left her, and a smile graced her lips. “Thank you. I was also wondering if there was any way I could be more involved.” She hesitated, shifting nervously from foot to foot. “Before coming here, I went to church often and helped out a lot within the community. Being here is familiar to me, so I’d like that opportunity if there is one.”

An idea popped into my head suddenly. The fact that she fell right into my lap when I was just trying to figure out how to spread the word more within the asylum seemed like God’s doing.

“You know what,” I began thoughtfully. “I’ve been looking for an assistant of sorts.” I turned toward my desk and started sifting through the pile of papers lying on top of it. When I found what I was looking for, I turned back to face her. “These are brochures for our upcoming trip.”

She took the papers, glancing down at the writing sprawled across the front page. “Trip?” she repeated.

“It has to be cleared by Dr. Blake of course, but we are going on a wellness retreat soon. Members of the church have to have been ongoing members for a total of six classes to qualify.”

Hope sparkled within her gaze as she finally brought her eyes to meet mine. “Seriously? Like…we get to leave the asylum?”

“Only for two days. If you run, or try to run, you’ll be put in solitary for a month minimum.”

She nodded in agreement. “What do you want me to do with these?” she asked, motioning to the brochures.

I grabbed a row of tape off my desk and offered it to her. “Hang them up all over the asylum. When I see you on Wednesday, I’ll have something else for you to do.”

“Thank you?—”

Her sentence was cut short as a shadow towered over her, my blood running cold as my eyes connected with those familiar dark blue and green ones. Rosalie turned, her posture stiffening as he invaded her personal space, but he didn’t seem to notice her. His gaze was trained on me.

“Jordan,” his name tasted bitter as I spit it out. “What can I do for you?”

A malicious smile curled the corners of his mouth and he side-stepped the terrified girl, putting more distance between them as he started for me. With a nod of my head, I motioned for her to leave, but she shook her head stubbornly, probably sensing the danger rolling through the room with his entrance.

“It’s been a while, wouldn’t you say?” he asked in a taunting tone as he rounded my desk and dropped into my seat. His gaze moved to the blonde-headed girl that still occupied the doorway. “You can leave,” he said coldly.

My teeth scraped together in irritation. It wasn’t easy to find eager people who wanted to follow God’s word, especially in a place like this. The fact that he was trying to scare her off had my skin prickling with annoyance.

I could tell from here that she was terrified of him. Her gaze bounced from me to Jordan a few times before she slowly turned for the door. But then…something happened. She stopped and turned back around. “No,” she said. Two letters, but dangerous when uttered to Jordan Hayes.

My pulse raced as he tilted his head to the side in that sadistic way he always did when he was up to no good. His gaze darkened, zeroing in on her. He pushed himself up from my chair and rounded the desk, passing me as he started toward her.

“Jordan,” I hissed. “Leave her alone. You don’t want to be locked in solitary again, do you?”

His back straightened, his movements falling still. Slowly, he glanced at me over his shoulder. “Do you want to know what your step-mommy said as I fucked her?” he asked, a malicious smile cresting his face. My hands tightened into fists at my sides, heat spiraling through my veins. “She said God no. Please stop. Don’t hurt my daughter. Jordan, you’re better than this. ” He mocked her voice, excitement flashing across his face. “Do you want to know what I did after?” he pressed. It was a rhetorical question; he didn’t give me the chance to respond. “I continued to fuck her and then I choked her before stabbing her again and again and again while your father watched, begging me to stop. She was surprisingly pretty tight.”

“Stop,” I growled. My body trembling with rage. It was taking everything in me not to attack the smug bastard. He was baiting me.

Satisfied that he managed to piss me off, he turned back to Rosalie, leaning in close. Her body stiffened at the close proximity. “The next time you tell me no, will be the last time you utter a syllable,” he whispered. Then he pushed past her, vanishing out of the room.

Tension filled the room after his departure. Neither one of us said a word, still clinging onto the things that had spewed from his mouth moments ago.

Clearing my throat, I looked her in the eye. Her back was ramrod straight, her body still trembling slightly. “Welcome to hell, Rosalie.”

My heart was still racing when I pulled into the parking lot of my single-story home. My hands were tight around the steering wheel, even as they shook against it. It wasn’t uncommon for Jordan to disturb me Sunday mornings after church. An unwanted memory resurfaced, forcing bile to the back of my throat as my stomach coiled with unease.

I was on my way to grab something to eat after classes ended for the day. I was studying to be a business major, just like my father. The plan was to work alongside him once I graduated. I’d stayed late, finishing up a module for a report we had due that I’d slacked on. It was worth a decent percentage of my grade. It was already dark when I got out.

My phone started ringing from the passenger seat, cutting through the rap music that blared from my speakers. Turning down the stereo, I lifted my phone, glancing at the screen.

Jordan’s name flashed across it. He didn’t call me often, so it had to be important. Swiping the green icon, I placed it to my ear.

“Val? Thank God.” He breathed, his voice shaking as he spoke. “I-I did something really fucking bad, man. You’re—” He cut off, his voice cracking. Was he…crying? The sniffles came moments later, confirming my question. “These voices, man. These fucking voices.”

Voices?

My heart started hammering against my ribcage. “Jordan…what did you do?”

A sob racked through him, vibrating through the phone. “I’m a lost cause. A fucking piece of shit. They tell me things. They tell me to do things. One minute I’m thinking something, and the next, my perspective has changed.” His rambling confused me further. This had to be bad if he was acting like this. Really fucking bad.

“I’m coming to you. Where are you?”

He sniffled again. “Aunt Lucille’s and Uncle Baron’s, where the fuck do you think?”

My throat constricted, fear snaking through me and causing my grip to tighten on the steering wheel. “J-Just stay there, okay? I’m on my way.” He muttered something under his breath but it was drowned out by his crying. I hung up and dialed my father.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Nothing! I tried again. The same empty response. Next, I dialed my stepmom. She didn’t answer either. Panic surged through me, even more potent than before. I jammed my foot against the gas, not giving a fuck how fast I was going or if some asshole cop decided to turn their lights on. I wasn’t going to stop. Not until I found out that my family was okay.

Within thirty minutes, I was pulling into the two-story home that my parents owned. I prayed that they were tucked away in bed, perfectly safe and content. Somehow, deep down, I knew that wasn’t the case, and it ate away at me. Parking the car, I jumped out of the vehicle, leaving it idling. Plants lined the walkway on either side; it was something my stepmom enjoyed doing in her spare time. She used to gush about how much it brought the yard together, and I agreed.

I shoved through the front door, immediately spotting Jordan in the living room. The mere sight of him had my body going rigid. He was covered in blood. It was on his face, his shirt, his hands, every fucking where. His eyes glistened with tears, guilt gnawing away at him.

“I didn’t know what I was doing.” He breathed, moving toward me. I looked over him skeptically, taking a step back as agony flooded through me. He didn’t have to say it. I already knew. “My head’s fucked up, Val. It’s been fucked up.”

I swallowed thickly, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. “You killed them.” It was a statement. One I already knew the answer to.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, so quietly I could barely make out the words.

I stumbled backwards, my stomach twisting in knots. Dead. He killed them. He killed my pregnant stepmom and my father—my own flesh and blood. ‘His’ own flesh and blood. My knees weakened, and I didn’t bother to stop the fall as they landed on the hard wood with a thud, pain shooting through my limbs from the impact, but it barely registered.

“Val, it wasn’t me…something is wrong with me. You have to believe it.” Desperation laced through his words, but I didn’t care.

“Something is wrong with you,” I agreed. “You’re a fucking monster. My parents let you into their home and you murdered them like it was nothing.” My eyes were hard as they met his from across the room. “There is no forgiveness for you. Not from me.” On shaky legs, I rose again. “You are dead to me, Jordan. Don’t call me again. I hope you die just as painful a death as you put them through, you sadistic little bitch,” I growled, not even recognizing my own voice. Anger blew through my veins, warming the inside of my body until rage was the only thing I felt.

He choked on another cry, his body bending as he hyperventilated. He acted as if my words had the same effect as a punch. God, I wished I could punch him. But he was a minor, and my degree was important to me.

“Val—” He started again, but I was already turning for the door.

I slipped out into the night, letting the door close behind me before I lifted my phone to my ear after dialing the police.

Maybe if I’d forgiven him that night, things would have been different. Maybe we wouldn’t be where we were now. But at the time, how could I have even considered it? Even now, I still haven’t forgiven him. I’d always wanted a sibling—someone to take care of and do things with. My parents were so excited to have a little girl. He took that from me. He took that from them .

I turned off my vehicle and stepped out onto the cement. My mind was a mess as I made my way up the front steps of my porch. If there was one good thing that came from this, it was the new path I’d found myself on. Before he killed my parents, I partied every weekend, drank until I blacked out, hooked up with random girls, went to strip clubs. One of my favorites had been Club Euphoria. A sex club in Redwood about an hour away. It was one of the classier ones, but still just as sinful.

Slipping into my house, I flicked on the light and kicked my shoes off near the door. The place was eerily silent as expected. I bought this house within the year of graduating. My father’s business became my own, and it paid well. I’d almost turned the offer down, even thought about selling the company. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. It felt wrong to work without him by my side when it was all we’d ever talked about, but it also felt wrong to give it away when it was something he worked so hard for.

I made my way into the kitchen and fixed myself a glass of water. Even though it had no taste, it was bitter. What I really wanted was some rum, something to drown out my encounter with Jordan today, something to help me forget. But it wasn’t like I kept a bottle on standby—not anymore.

I made my way back to the living room and sat in the recliner, propping my feet up. I grabbed the remote off the armrest and turned on the TV. My stomach turned as my mind replayed that night over and over again in my head on repeat.

I knew that the only way I’d heal from this completely was if I forgave him, but I wasn’t ready. It was the worst night of my life. Plus, it had been so long now that Jordan had fallen even further from the person he once was. He was someone I didn’t even recognize now. Forgiveness was probably too late.

My mind flashed to Rosalie. How she stood there, terrified of the man I used to call my cousin. Despite her fear, she stood up to him. I’d read through her file. She was in college to become a psychologist. She knew what people like him could be capable of if given the right motivation. I needed to keep her as far away from him as possible before he tainted her—just like he tainted everything. His friends were no better, and Archer has already developed an interest for the girl. That could only mean one thing.

She was doomed.