Page 59 of His Elder

Eli had known that. Had taken the fall anyway.

"I'll be consulting with the Area Presidency about your case," President Dalton said. "In the meantime, you'll be transferred to a new companion. Someone who can help you rebuild your spiritual foundation."

"Where?"

"You'll companion with Elder Kempton. He's returning toBarcelona proper after his companion, Elder Torres, goes home next week. You'll move into his apartment and serve there for the remainder of your mission."

Kempton.The district leader who'd searched our apartment. Who'd found the evidence. Who looked at me now with barely concealed disgust.

"Elder Kempton is a faithful, obedient missionary," President Dalton continued. "He'll provide the spiritual leadership you need right now. Help you refocus on the work."

I nodded numbly.

"You'll return to your current apartment tonight to pack your belongings. Elder Kempton will accompany you. Tomorrow morning, he'll bring you to his area, and you'll begin serving there."

"And Eli—Elder Vance?"

"Will remain in the conference room here until his flight tomorrow. You will not see him again. You will not speak to him. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

But my mind was screaming. Because Eli was down the hall right now, alone, believing he'd saved me. Believing his sacrifice had been worth it.

And I'd never get to tell him the truth—that without him, I was already dead.

Elder Kempton didn't speak during the metro ride back to the apartment.

He sat across from me in the rocking car, his posture rigid, his scriptures open in his lap. Reading. Or pretending to read. I couldn't tell.

I stared at the dark window, watching my reflectionflicker and distort. I looked like a stranger. Empty eyes. Slack mouth. A missionary-shaped shell with nothing inside.

The apartment felt wrong when we entered. Too quiet. Too empty.

Eli's sketchbook sat on the kitchen table. His jacket hung on the back of his chair. His toothbrush stood in the cup by the sink, next to mine.

Kempton pulled two duffel bags from the hall closet and handed me one.

"Pack everything," he said. "We're not coming back."

I moved mechanically into the bedroom, glancing at Eli's carefully made bed where we had…

I looked away.

My clothes went into the duffel bag. My scriptures. My journal. The items laid out on my desk—the photo of my family, the baptism date calendar, the nametag I'd worn for eighteen months.

Elder Price.

I didn't feel like Elder Price anymore. I felt like Samuel. Bare and exposed and drowning.

Kempton appeared in the doorway. “We need to pack his things too. President Dalton wants them brought to the office. Elder Vance will take them with him tomorrow."

My hands stilled on my scriptures. "I can pack them."

"I'll do it." Kempton's voice was clipped. "You're too emotionally compromised."

He moved to Eli's side of the room and began pulling clothes from the drawers, folding them with sharp, angry precision. Like touching Eli's things contaminated him.

"He manipulated you," Kempton said without looking up. "You know that, right? Elder Vance is a sexual predator and deviant. He saw your faith and your dedication and decided to take pleasure in destroying it."