Page 39 of His Elder

"Elder Price."

His eyes flashed. "This is insane. You're punishing yourself."

"I'm preparing to teach." I kept my gaze on the page, my voice flat. "We have a lesson with the Morenos tomorrow. Sister Moreno asked about the temple last time. We need to be ready to discuss worthiness."

"Worthiness." Eli's voice dripped with contempt. "You mean we need to tell her that people like us are unworthy."

"We are unworthy."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy and final. Eli stared at me, his expression shifting from anger tosomething else. Something that looked like pity. It made my skin crawl.

"No," he said quietly. "You're unworthy because you think God made a mistake when He made you. I'm just fine with being who I am."

I looked up at him then, my vision tunnelling. "You'refine? You broke the Law of Chastity. You defiled your body and mine. You led me into sin, and you'refine?"

"I didn't lead you anywhere. You came with me willingly, and it wasn't the first time I broke the law, and it most certainly won't be the last."

"I was weak."

"You were human."

"I wasdamned." My voice rose, echoing off the walls of the small room. I stood, my chair scraping back, my hands braced on the table. "Do you understand what I've done? Whatwe'vedone? I can't take the sacrament. I can't pray. I can't even stand in front of an investigator and tell them the gospel is true, because I am aliar.I am unclean. I am—"

"Would you stop it already?" Eli stood too, his voice hard. "Stop fucking flagellating yourself. You're not damned. You're not unclean. You're just a nineteen-year-old kid who got off and enjoyed it, Samuel. That's it. That's all it was."

The words were a slap. I recoiled, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Don't you dare reduce it to that. This isn't—this isn't just some mistake. This is mysoul."

"Your soul is fine."

"My soul islost." My voice broke, and I hated myself for it. I hated the tears that burned behind my eyes, the tightness in my chest, the way my hands trembled. "I prayed, Eli. I prayed every single day of my life to be fixed. To be normal. To want what I'm supposed to want. And I failed. I failed, and now I've dragged you down with me, and I can't—I can't—"

I couldn't finish. My legs gave out, and I sank back into the chair, my head in my hands. The sobs came then, ripping out of me, raw and unstoppable. I'd held them in for so long. Since I was fourteen. Since the first time I'd looked at another boy and felt something I wasn't supposed to feel. Since the first time I'd confessed it to my bishop and been told to fast and pray harder. Since the first time I'd knelt in the temple and begged God to take it away.

Eli moved around the table. I felt him kneel beside my chair, his hand on my shoulder. I flinched, but he didn't pull away.

"Samuel," he said, his voice soft. "Listen to me. You didn't fail. The Church failed you. The doctrine failed you. God—if He's even there—failed you."

I shook my head violently, my hands still pressed against my face. "Don't say that. Don't youdaresay that."

"Why? Because it's true?"

"Because it's blasphemy."

"Is it blasphemy to say that a God who made you this way and then told you it was wrong is cruel?"

I looked up at him, my vision blurred with tears. His face was inches from mine, his dark eyes fierce and unwavering. "He didn't make me this way. This is a test. A trial. I'm supposed to overcome it."

"By hating yourself?"

"By being obedient."

"And if obedience means you spend your whole life alone? Celibate? Pretending you're something you're not?"

"Then that's what I'll do." My voice was hoarse, broken. "Because the alternative is losing everything. My family. My faith. My chance at the celestial kingdom. I can't—I can't lose that, Eli. I can't."

His hand tightened on my shoulder. "You already have."

The words were a knife between my ribs. I jerked away from him, standing so fast the chair toppled over behind me. "Get away from me."