I was next.
My heart plummeted into my stomach as the pastor's voice called my name. My throat went dry, my fingers clutching the blanket like it was the only thing keeping me anchored to reality. Every face in the room turned toward me. Relief flashed across some of their eyes, while others avoided looking at me altogether.
"Maya," the pastor repeated, his voice soft yet commanding. "Come with me."
I froze, my body refusing to obey him. Why me? My mind screamed the question, but my lips wouldn't move.
He tilted his head, his polite smile never wavering. "Come now, child. Don't make this difficult."
I forced myself to stand, legs trembling as I shuffled toward him. The murmurs behind me felt like knives stabbing into my back. They were glad it wasn't them.
But can I really blame them? No one had a clue what the sick psycho of a pastor was doing, but where else could they go?
