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Haven

I lie numbly on the kitchen floor as tears trail down my cheeks. Isaiah’s cum slowly dripped out of me hours ago and has now dried onto my skin. My core aches from how rough he was, and I have bruises on my sides from him taking out his frustration on me. All because I couldn’t muster up a good enough attitude for him.

Last night, Isaiah held me against him again while he slept. I cried silently until desperation found me. For the first time in years, I prayed. I begged a god I don’t even believe in to kill Isaiah in his sleep so he’d never touch me again.

Obviously, my prayer wasn’t answered.

Isaiah left for work after breakfast, but I don’t know exactly how long it’s been. I don’t think it’s morning anymore, which means my appointment is soon.

My appointment.

The doctors will find out about my IUD. They’ll know I lied to Isaiah. And because they’re good and righteous Christian women, they’ll tell him.

He’s going to kill me.

I’ve thought that before, but it was always my anxiety. Now, it’s common sense. He forgave me once, but this is a betrayal that will cut deeper than all of the others. When he finds out I lied to him, he’ll know I’m not truly repentant.

What’s the point of giving someone another chance if they won’t take it?

There are kids laughing outside and enjoying the spring weather. It hurts, wondering how many of them will end up in a position similar to mine. Will any of them ever want to leave? Will they be able to?

Anger builds up in my chest. I want to burn this place to the ground.

Ultimately, it’s rage that brings me to my feet. I’m not thinking, just following my body as I stumble to the sink. I take the dirty dishes and throw them against the wall with a scream. They shatter, and hundreds of tiny pieces of porcelain fall to the floor. I do it again with Isaiah’s coffee mug, and then I’m opening the cabinets and flinging the plates across the room. Then the bowls, then the glasses, then the mugs.

By the time I’m done, the floor is covered in shards, and my feet are bleeding. I barely feel the pain as I dash upstairs. In our bedroom, I rip out the drawers in Isaiah’s dresser and send them flying. The corners of one of the drawers dents the wall, and I stare at the spot of white plaster where the navy blue paint has been destroyed.

I’m writing my own death sentence, I know, but I don’t care. I can’t do this. I can’t let him put his hands on me again. I can’t let him ruin me again.

Only Isaiah’s sock drawer is left. I throw it at the wall the hardest to wreck it as much as possible.

And then I freeze.

As the drawer crashes to the floor, a piece of wood falls out, and then a phone. My phone.

With a gasp, I dart forward. It looks like there was a false bottom in the drawer, and that must’ve been where Isaiah was hiding my things.

My phone is almost dead, and it doesn’t take the same charger as Isaiah’s, but it has enough battery for a short phone call. Colton is first in my contacts, and I jab the button to call him with shaking hands.

He picks up on the first ring. “Haven?”

All it takes is hearing his voice, and the dam breaks.

“Colt,” I sob. My knees give out, and I hit the ground hard. “Colt, please get me out of here.”

“We are, angel, I promise. We’re coming tonight. Are you okay?”

No. No, I’m anything but.

“I…”

“Haven? What’s he doing to you? Is he hurting you?”

More tears fall, and I stifle a whimper with a hand over my mouth. How am I supposed to tell him?

“Angel. Haven, I’m so sorry.”

The anguish in his voice only makes mine worse. I wish he was here. I just want to feel his arms around me so I can feel safe again, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Are Xan and Luc there?” I ask, voice wobbling.

“No. No, I… I’m alone at the moment. If you can give me fifteen minutes—”

“I don’t have that long. My phone is almost dead, and I’ve got no way to charge it. And… Colton, I think Isaiah is going to kill me tonight.”

“We’re not going to let that happen,” he says firmly.

“You might not get here in time. I told him I’m not on birth control, and he’s going to find out I have an IUD in this afternoon. That’ll be the last straw for him. We’re supposed to have a vow renewal ceremony this evening, but… he can turn it into something else.”

“Something else—” Colton blows out a harsh breath. “Haven, don’t tell me you’re talking about some type of public execution.”

Silence.

“Haven.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“No. No. We’ll stop him. We found a way in, we just need a little more time to get there. You can hide until we break in, or—”

“Colt.”

“—Wes can get in faster and—”

“Colton.”

“What?”

“I need to tell you something,” I whisper.

There’s a moment of silence before his voice comes through the phone, tight and full of dread. “What?”

“I should’ve said it back when you told me. I… I don’t know why I didn’t, other than it all felt so fast. I wish I had, I wish I could’ve told you in person, but I need you to know in case we never see each other aga—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Haven.”

I’m so stunned that my confession gets stuck in my throat. All I can manage is a confused, “What?”

“Don’t you dare say it. Not like this. I don’t want the first time you tell me to be over a goddamn phone. You deserve better than that. We deserve better than that.”

“Colton! I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to—”

“No, Haven,” he cuts in, his tone harsh. “Please, just… please don’t. I need to be able to see you. To touch you. To hold you in my arms and kiss you. Angel, I…”

Oh my god. He sounds as close to tears as I am.

I close my eyes to keep them from spilling over. “But I need you to know.”

“I do, angel. I promise I know.”

“If he… if he finds out about the IUD, then he might not wait until the ceremony.”

“Then hide. Hide for as long as you can, angel. We’ll find you. Now tell me where you’re going to be so we can—”

He goes silent, and when I look at my phone, I’m met with a black, lifeless screen. It’s dead. I drop it to the floor, and it lands next to something small, silver, and shiny.

My ring.

I pick it up and tilt it toward the window so the diamonds catch the sunlight. It’s a tiny piece of happiness surrounded by miles and miles of misery.

Wearing it will only anger Isaiah further if he notices, but if I’m going to die today, I’m going to do it with Colton’s ring on my finger.

It slips on easily, the fit still as perfect as when Colton first slid it onto my finger. The sight of it makes me smile, even as tears continue to stream down my face.

“I love you, Colton Heverly,” I whisper as I drop Isaiah’s ring onto the floor.

“Heaven.”

With a startled yelp, I whirl around. My father is standing in the threshold to the bedroom. He’s watching me with a shocked expression.

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

“Isaiah asked me to make sure you went to your appointment.” He steps into the room as he takes in the mess I made. “You have an IUD in?”

I nod. There’s no denying it.

“Does Isaiah know?” His voice is heavy with dread, and his shock has morphed into disappointment.

“Please don’t tell him,” I beg.

“You can’t ask that of me. You know you can’t. Heaven…” He rubs at his face, and the pain in his voice almost makes me feel guilty. “Who was on the phone?”

Shit.

“N-no one.”

“Don’t lie to me. Was it Julie?”

Julie. She may have gotten me out of here the first time, but that was when Cornerstone’s services were still open to the public. She’s not a threat to my father—not in the same way the boys were.

“Yes,” I whisper.

With a sigh, he steps into the room. “What did you do in here? And why are your feet bleeding?”

“I… I don’t know.”

He clenches his jaw. I’m lying, and he knows it, but he doesn’t understand. He’s a man. He’ll never understand.

“We need to go or you’ll be late for your appointment. The doctors can take the IUD out.”

“No. Papa, please don’t make me do this.”

“You have your duties,” he says as he pulls me to my feet, “and I have mine.”

Numbness wars with panic in my head as he brings me downstairs. My heart wants to protect itself—to bring up the walls to shield me from the pain. But my head is scrambling to find a way out of this.

The boys are coming. I can’t die. Not when they’re so close.

“Where are your shoes?” my dad asks.

And just like that, a plan kicks into gear in my head.

“The kitchen,” I lie.

Dad sighs but heads in that direction. Once he has a view of the shattered dishes, he stops. “Heaven, what did you do?”

“Maybe I’m not the one who did it.” I purposefully keep my voice small and timid.

He swears under his breath. “Well, where are your shoes? I don’t see them.”

“They’re over in the mudroom,” I say.

“All right. Stay here. I don’t want you cutting up your feet more than you already have. They should be able to fix you up at the clinic.”

As my dad crosses the kitchen, I quietly follow him, picking my way through the broken dishes until I reach the cast iron pan my mother gave me on my wedding day. It’s heavy as I grip it tightly and tiptoe over to my father.

“I don’t see them,” he says impatiently. “Where—”

I bring the pan down on his head with enough force to make his body crumple to the floor. “I’m sorry,” I whisper as I step over him.

I don’t think he’ll be unconscious for long, so I bolt out the back door. Praying I’m making the right decision, I race through the row of backyards to Ruth’s house. I can’t think of anywhere else to go.

As I stumble up the stairs of her back porch, I wince at the pain from the little cuts on my soles making contact with the hard wood. It doesn’t stop me, though. I have a chance of survival—a chance of seeing my boys again.

I open Ruth’s back door slowly so the hinges don’t creak and then quietly step inside. She’s in the kitchen with a jar of applesauce in her hand. When she sees me, she yelps in surprise and drops the jar, the glass shattering on the tile.

Ruth takes one look at me and jumps into action. Opening the cabinet under the sink, she shoves all her cleaning supplies to one side.

“It’s my dad,” I tell her shakily.

“You’re safe here. Get in.”

“The blood,” I whisper as I fold myself up to fit into the cabinet. “He’ll see it. It’ll be on the porch, too.”

Ruth pauses for a moment and bites the inside of her cheek. It’s what I remember her doing whenever she needed to think.

“I’ve got it,” she says. She grabs one of the larger shards of glass on the floor.

“Ruth! What are you doing?!”

“Protecting you.” She winces as she drags the glass across her heel. Blood stains her skin and drips onto the floor. “I love you, my sweet friend. Now don’t move an inch until I come back.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Ruth, I—”

She presses a finger to my lips. “It’s all right. There’s no need to thank me.”

After Ruth closes me in, I hear the porch door opening and closing. A moment later, Ruth calls out, “Oh! Hezekiah, thank goodness you’re here.”

“You’re bleeding,” my father says. “Are you all right?”

“I… I don’t feel well. I lost my balance and dropped a jar of applesauce, and I stepped on a piece of glass. My head… I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

“Well, why don’t you sit down? I don’t want you falling off the porch.”

“I think I need to go to the clinic,” Ruth says weakly. “Can… can you help me get there? I’m worried about the baby.”

“Of course. Are those your shoes by the door? Put them on.”

I hear Ruth shuffle across the porch, and the steps creak under my father’s weight.

“Thank you,” Ruth says. “I was going to call for help, but I was worried I’d fall down the stairs by myself. Thank goodness Mary is with my mom today. I can’t imagine carrying a toddler to the clinic like this. Oh, and it’s such a good thing that you came by. Were you looking for Samuel?”

“No, I… You haven’t happened to see Heaven around, have you?”

“Hmm? No, I haven’t seen her since church yesterday.”

Their conversation fades as they get farther away. I breathe a sigh of relief and let my body relax. Ruth has always been a quick thinker. It’s something I was jealous of when we? were younger. Now, all I am is grateful, because I’m pretty sure she just saved my life.

. . .

?

It takes what feels like two hours for Ruth to get back. When she does, I hear a deep voice mingled with hers. Samuel must’ve rushed home from work when he found out Ruth had to see a doctor.

“You’re sure you’re feeling better?” he asks as they enter the kitchen.

“Mmhmm. I’ll just cook a simple dinner, and then we can head off to the ceremony. I don’t want to miss it.”

“You really think Heaven’s repentance is genuine?” Samuel asks.

“I want to think it is, but you won’t let me talk to her, so I can’t really give you a definitive answer, can I?”

At the bitterness in Ruth’s voice, I go stiff. If I spoke to Isaiah like that, it would earn me a slap across the face at least.

“It’s for your own good,” Samuel says firmly.

Ruth sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry I snapped. Why don’t you head upstairs and shower and get dressed for the ceremony? I’ll reheat some leftovers.”

“I think I should stay down here with you, just to be safe.”

I can practically hear Ruth rolling her eyes. “I’m fine, Samuel.”

“Well, I don’t want you falling into the oven or something and hurting the baby.”

Silence stretches out, and I know exactly why. It’s not because of what Samuel said but because of what he didn’t.

“Fair point,” Ruth says eventually, but all I hear is the hurt that coats her words.

They don’t say anything else as Ruth cooks. Even hidden away in the cabinet, I can feel the tension between them. They eat in near-silence, and once they’re done, Samuel goes upstairs while Ruth does the dishes.

I hear the shower turn on upstairs, and after a minute, the cabinet door opens. Ruth crouches down with one hand clutching the counter above her for balance. The other cradles her stomach, and my heart squeezes at the reminder that I tore apart our plans.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

She frowns. “For what?”

“We were supposed to raise our kids together, and now look at us. At what I’ve done.”

Sadness passes over Ruth’s face, but she shakes her head. “I was devastated when I found out you left, but over the years, I came to understand. Isaiah was angry before, and now he’s even worse. I’m glad we aren’t raising our children together. He’d only hurt your kids.”

“Thank you for understanding,” I whisper.

“Always.” She squeezes my hand. “Now, I have to finish the dishes and get ready for the ceremony, or Samuel will suspect something. Do you have a plan? Some way to get out of here?”

“People are coming to help me. I just have to stay alive until they get here. Isaiah… I think he’s going to kill me. I told him I wasn’t on birth control, but my dad found out that wasn’t true. There’s no way he hasn’t told Isaiah by now.”

“Okay.” Ruth bites the inside of her cheek again. “They’ll be here soon? The people helping you?”

I nod. “I don’t know how they’ll find me, though.”

“We’ll figure it out. Maybe I can lead them here.”

It’s a hopeful thought, but we both know she’d get caught. Samuel would never let her.

“They know me as Haven,” I tell her.

“Haven.” She smiles softly. “I think that’s beautiful.”

Ruth resumes washing the dishes. When she’s done, she peeks into the cabinet one last time to give me a glass of water, and then she disappears upstairs. Both her and Samuel come downstairs fifteen minutes later, chatting about the ceremony.

“I’m just glad Heaven is back,” Ruth says. “The rest is in God’s hands now.”

“And Isaiah’s,” Samuel corrects.

“Right.” Ruth clears her throat. “Of course.”

There’s a knock at the back door, and when it opens, my stomach drops at the sound of Isaiah’s voice.

“Good evening, Ruth. Samuel.”

“Isaiah!” Ruth exclaims. “Shouldn’t you be at the church with Heaven?”

“I know you have her,” he snaps.

“What? I don’t know what you’re—”

“Samuel, help me look for her,” Isaiah says impatiently. “She lied to me and trashed the house, and now she’s run off. She has to be here.”

“Ruth,” Samuel says slowly, “do you have something to tell us?”

“I don’t know anything about this,” she insists.

Samuel sighs. “I’ll look upstairs. You look down here.”

Frantically, I glance around in the cabinet for something to defend myself with. It’s mostly cleaning supplies, so I’ll have to make do. I grip a bleach spray bottle just as the cabinet door opens and spray it directly at Isaiah’s face. He cries out and stumbles back, and Samuel grabs him before he crashes into the table.

I scramble out and bolt for the door, but Samuel catches me and yanks me back. He shoves me into a chair while Isaiah rushes for the sink.

“This is why I didn’t want you near her,” Samuel yells at Ruth. “She’s corrupted you. It’s all she’s ever done.”

“Just let her go,” Ruth begs. “He hurts her, Samuel. You know he does. He—”

“Shut up,” Samuel snaps. “Just shut up.”

Isaiah finishes rinsing his eyes out and turns to glare at me. “You’re done, woman. Done.”

“Don’t,” Ruth yells as Isaiah grabs me by the throat.

“I wasted the last four years of my life trying to find you, and for what?” he seethes. “For you to go behind my back and deny me my right to children.”

“I really don’t know what else you expected,” I say flatly.

His nostrils flare. “I should beat you to death right here. You’ve made a mockery of God’s grace. Of me.”

“Please,” Ruth sobs. “Please don’t, Isaiah. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“Samuel, control your wife,” Isaiah snaps. “Get her to the church. It’s time to deal with this whore once and for all.”

Isaiah yanks me out the back door. He’s pulling me too hard, going too fast. I tumble down the stairs and land in a heap in the dirt. When I don’t get up fast enough, Isaiah kicks me in the stomach. All the air is forced out of me, and I instinctively curl up to protect myself.

“Let’s move,” he snaps, kicking my shin this time.

Pain radiates through my body as I push myself to my feet. I can hear Ruth crying as Isaiah drags me toward the church. It’s a short walk, but with my feet still bare and bleeding, it feels agonizingly long.

“Please don’t kill her,” Ruth begs as she follows us up the church’s steps. “She’s only—”

“Keep your mouth shut,” Samuel warns. “You’re on thin ice as it is.”

When Isaiah yanks me into the sanctuary, gasps fill the room at the sight of us. I’m a mess, leaving a trail of blood behind me, and Isaiah looks dangerously furious.

Beckham is already standing at the front, Bible in hand. His face falls when he sees us.

Some of the windows in the sanctuary are open to let in the fresh air, and one of the elders’ wives is playing piano softly. It’s the perfect scene for a vow renewal that would’ve doubled as my redemption.

With the way Isaiah is hauling me down the aisle, it’s painfully obvious that his intentions have changed. Now, he’s dragging me to my death.

Beckham’s expression hardens as Isaiah throws me against the altar. I grab onto it to steady myself so I don’t fall to the ground.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Isaiah announces.

I force myself to turn around and face the congregation. It’s a mistake. Isaiah grabs my arm and yanks me forward until I’m standing next to him. The looks of horror on my family’s faces break me. None of them knew this was coming. None but my father, who’s staring at me with a clenched jaw and anger in his eyes.

“I gave Heaven a second chance,” Isaiah says. “I promised to lead her back to the Lord, but she’s proven that she has no desire to truly repent. She deceived me and planned to defile her body with contraceptives to keep her from bearing my children. She’s a disgrace to us and an embarrassment to Cornerstone.”

Beckham clears his throat. “And what has God told you about what should be done with her?”

“She’s flaunted her arrogance for long enough. Her life on this earth is coming to an end. It’s time she experienced God’s justice.”

Beckham nods. “He’s told me the same.”

Bullshit. I saw how shocked Beckham was when Isaiah dragged me in. There was no conversation between him and God because he had no idea what was happening.

“May God’s will be done,” Beckham says.

He moves behind the pulpit and pulls out a knife wrapped in deep red fabric. I’ve only seen it once before, and it gave me nightmares for months after.

Jeremiah jumps out of his seat. “No!”

“Sit down,” our father snaps.

Jeremiah ignores him and moves into the aisle. “If Heaven should die for lying, then you should, too, Isaiah. You vowed to love my sister as Christ loves the Church. You vowed to give her endless chances, to die for her, because that’s what Christ has done for us.”

“I also have the God-granted power to remove her from this life for her sins,” Isaiah grits out. “There’s no reason to give another chance to someone who’ll only throw it away. The Lord has spoken to me. She dies tonight.”

“Isaiah, no!” Ruth yells.

She tries to break free from Samuel’s grasp, but he grabs her and slams her into her seat. She hits the pew hard, and it’s loud enough that a few people toss concerned glances her way.

My stomach drops, and for a brief second, I forget about my own predicament. I can see the pain on Ruth’s face from across the sanctuary, and I want to tear Samuel limb from limb for it. But no one would let me near him. No one will let me take more than a step from where I am until I’m dead.

“You’re interfering with the work of the Holy Spirit,” Jeremiah snaps. “Her heart has hardened, but that doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way. Heaven hasn’t even been here for two days. You’re not giving God any time to work within her.”

“He spoke to both of us,” Beckham scolds. “Your emotions are clouding your judgment. This is his will.”

As Jeremiah continues arguing with Isaiah and Beckham, it hits me that my brother doesn’t mean a single thing he’s saying. He’s using all the right talking points, and his theology is flawless based on Beckham’s teachings, but it’s not in his heart anymore. He’s only saying it to point out Isaiah’s hypocrisy.

To keep me alive.

I love him for trying, but it won’t matter. When it comes down to long-held beliefs versus thirst for power, power will always win.

“Don’t do this,” Jeremiah begs.

He’s closer now, almost at arm’s length. I want to reach out to him, but I know I can’t. There are too many men in here who would happily raise a hand against me if I act out of line.

I’ve seen this before. I have to accept my fate silently. Otherwise, my death will only be more painful.

Isaiah takes the knife from Beckham and unwraps it. When he steps closer to me, my first instinct is to stumble back, but I steel myself under his hard gaze. His free hand comes up to grip the hair at the base of my neck. He yanks hard, forcing my head back until my throat is exposed.

“Heaven,” Esther cries, and it hits me that I’ll never get to hug my little sisters again. I’ll never be able to help them escape.

“Ven,” Jeremiah says, his voice close to breaking. “Heaven, look at me.”

I don’t. Can’t. He’s trying to spare me from having to watch my own death, but I don’t want him to see the life drain from my eyes. I don’t want any of my siblings to watch this.

Isaiah raises the knife.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Beckham asks, “Isaiah Titus, do you accept God’s plan for you to enact his just will on your wife?”

“You can’t do this,” Jeremiah shouts.

Dad stands. “Jeremiah, enough. It has to be done.”

“I do,” Isaiah says, and then he brings the knife down.