Temptation [A Young Writer's Prize Submission]

Debra

CHAPTER NINE

The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest.

Job 30: 17

Debra was furious when we finally arrived home that night. Not only was it late – just gone midnight, which might have set her off on a rant anyway; but my jeans were severely ripped and my face was starting to show signs of Will’s abuse.

She didn’t dare say a word to incriminate Cain, while he was there. No, it showed in her face; shock giving way to anger. The moment he drove off, she was rebuking me, him, anyone and everyone involved.

“I knew it wasn’t a good idea for you to go out tonight,” she seethed, closing the front door behind her as forcefully as she could without slamming it. She grabbed my coats from me and hung them up in the cloakroom behind the reception desk.

“I decided to give that boy the benefit of the doubt,” she continued, fire in her eyes, “And now look what he’s done!”

I remained silent. I knew it didn’t look good. A quick glance in the hall mirror told me I looked bad enough for her to blame whoever she liked – as long as it wasn’t me.

“What kind of dinner lasts from seven until midnight?”  Her voice never rose above a whisper, as many of her hotel guests would have gone to their rooms for the night. “I knew you should have been chaperoned. But no, Thomas insisted you could take care of yourself.”

She screamed quietly through gritted teeth. “What did he do to you, Mercy?”

“Cain didn’t do anything,” I murmured, heading towards the stairs. She didn’t take the hint, following me up.

“Did he threaten you?” she sounded frantic. “Mercy, why are you lying for him? Mercy!”

“I’m not lying.” My voice was still hoarse from screaming so much. “It wasn’t his fault.”

Keeping one hand on the wall, just in case, I headed toward my room at the end of the second landing.

“Mercy!”

I didn’t respond.

“What will the Agency think?” Debra sounded panicked.

“Tell them I fell down the stairs,” I said dryly.

“This isn’t funny,” she hissed at me.

“No, it isn’t, this is my face,” I retorted. “I’ll explain it to the Agency – it’s not your problem.”

“You became my problem the minute you walked through my door, Mercy,” Debra replied, folding her arms as she stormed after me.

Past the point of irritation with her worries and misguided conclusions, I paused at my bedroom door, turning to face her.

“Well consider yourself relieved of a burden.”

The door slammed in her face.

***

I had the nightmare again that night. Pain kept me from finding a comfortable position, so when I passed out, it was purely out of exhaustion. I had maybe a few hours of blissful oblivion before the images started emerging from the recesses of my mind.

Voices, hundreds, thousands of them crying out like a haunting, discordant choir. Some begged for redemption, others swore vengeance. All suffered from unimaginable pain. I felt that pain, too. Physically, my shoulders burned, my blood forced by the current of the wind against my back to flow upwards, streaking down the length of my body.