EXILE | TOM RIDDLE

25. Gods and Monsters

"Oh blessed Lord," I begin, shifting from the uncomfortable position being on my knees provides. Before, I never noticed how kneeling for prayer would cause discomfort in my legs, but after months of being absent from my faith, I am practically a newcomer.

I shift once again, moving to rest my elbows atop my bed and thus relieve the pressure on my knees. "I am at a crossroads once again. I have forsaken you, for others, and for that I am deeply sorry. And now I am afraid I am being tempted to sin again, to sin more. You see, Tom, he wants Salazar dead, and I do not know what to do. He could be right, that Salazar would hurt Tom and I if I do not kill him first. But even so, I am at a loss for what to do, how to go about this. He is missing now, so how would I even begin to kill him? Is it right, to take his life, in order to save Tom and I's? Please, please send me a sign for what to do, blessed God. Amen."

The moment I unclasp my hands, the door to the dorm swings open, and in steps Abigail, her brows furrowing together as she observes me. "Why are you on the floor?"

"I was praying," I answer as I rise to my feet.

"I see. It's been a while since you've done that, hasn't it?"

My shoulders lift in a casual shrug, hoping she does not notice the way guilt eats at me at her words. "I suppose so, yes."

"It's also been a while since you've been in here earlier than me," she comments as she steps over to my bed, taking a seat atop my mattress and scrunching her hands in the blanket. "When you pray, does your God answer?"

"Our God," I correct, and her lips curve upwards.

"If you insist."

"He does answer me. Not in a way you might expect, but He does. And He will answer you too, if you pray," I reach over and grab onto her hand, gently squeezing. "You may not feel His love now, but if you give yourself to Him, you will."

"And what is it you prayed for?" Abigail asks, her voice just above a whisper. Under my touch, I feel her hands grow clammy.

I shake my head, guilt at the reminder of what I have asked God to help me with punching me in the stomach, though I try to keep my expression pleasant. "It is a secret."

"Is it about Tom?"

"No," I answer, and for the first time in what must be ages, it is not entirely a lie. Yes, Tom is involved, but the main focus of my prayers was Salazar. Salazar and myself.

She opens her mouth to spout another question, one I am certain I cannot answer, so I cut her off. "We must sleep now. Classes begin early tomorrow, do they not?"

Something flickers across her expression, that I cannot interpret. "You're right. Goodnight, Beck."

When she goes over to her bed, swiping the curtains shut, I have a feeling I have done something wrong.

*

I am in a graveyard.

My feet are moving, though I do not tell them to, trekking across the dry, dead grass I find myself standing atop. They are bare, my toes digging into the dirt, and the occasional rock scrapping against my heels. One point, my right foot falls upon a jagged stone, and as I continue my movements through the graveyard, a trail of blood is left in my stead.

The blood from my foot somehow bleeds into the sky, deepening the color to a dark maroon, casting shadows from the few trees scattered across the landscape. All the trees, I notice as I observe them, are barren, the leaves having fallen off ages ago with only withered, spiky branches remaining.

I sniff the air, finding the scent of smoke entering my lungs. Something is on fire, I realize, frantically whipping around, searching for the source of the flames. No, not something, everything. Behind me rests an inferno, blazing with gusts of fire that reach into the bloody sky.