Belief in Miracles (completed)

Chapter 14: Sebastian

14

Sebastian

I sat ramrod stiff in my chair, staring at Summer's hand that was curled around mine. Her hands were like rose petals, soft and feminine compared to my large, rough ones. I wanted to fold myself within them and feel their warmth, but kept myself still as she stared at me.

"The person I ran into at the theater," She began, and my eyes whipped up to seek hers.

She was going to tell me that story? Pursing my lips, I watched her carefully, giving her my undivided attention.

"I thought I'd never have to see him again."

Swallowing at the look of hurt in her eyes, I leaned forward a little. "That's what you said. Who was he? An old boyfriend?"

She scoffed and shook her head. "Not in a million years."

Her eyes rose to stare at the wall above me a moment before looking back down at our hands that were still molded together. With furrowed brows, I waited, giving her all the time she needed to tell me what was obviously something difficult for her.

Inhaling deeply, she let her breath out slow, didn't look at me when she spoke. "When I was fourteen, my mom was murdered. Right in front of me."

My lips parted in horror, my heart breaking for the sorrow I saw in her eyes. That was not at all in the ballpark of what I'd been expecting to hear. I didn't say anything. What could I have said that would have mattered after being told something like that? I sat quietly, my arms twitching with the desire to pull her close to me and give her all the comfort I contained, but I didn't, just watched her as she stared at our hands.

"She and my Dad were good friends with the Pastor of our church and his wife. The four of them were always hanging out while I got stuck with their son, who was my age. He was always hitting on me, trying to get in my pants when no one was around. Typical rebellious preacher's kid. Everyone thought it was just a phase. Nobody ever did anything about it."

"What about Jerry? He wasn't there?" I asked quietly.

She shook her head. "He's ten years older than me. He was already moved out and married."

I nodded, not knowing what to say, and fearing the rest of the story.

"So, anyway, one night, the Pastor calls and asks my Mom to come over while my Dad was at work; said his wife needed her opinion in decorating a particular arrangement for the church. So, she agreed, and I went with her to help out." She swallowed hard, and tears filled her eyes before she continued. "Turns out, his wife wasn't even at home. She'd gone out of town for the night." Shaking her head, she swallowed again, her eyes on her lap as she continued.

"He told my mom that he was in love with her, and that he would leave his wife if she would leave my Dad. She refused, and so he locked me in the pantry, beat her half to death and strangled her while I was watching through the keyhole. After she was dead, he held me down right next to her bloodied body and raped me. He would have killed me too if his son hadn't happened to come home from football practice and catch him." She blew out a long breath and shook her head. "In guilt and grief, my Dad killed himself two weeks later, leaving Jerry as my legal guardian; to raise me through my PTSD until I turned eighteen. It's part of the reason his wife can't stand me now. I was an inconvenience to them."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and I lifted a hand to wipe it away as she sniffed. My heart was thundering through its brokenness as I watched her. And more than that, it pounded with the need to pulverize the pervert that had ruined her life. No wonder she was at such odds with God. A man of the church, someone she trusted, had torn any and all sense of honesty and belief that she had connected with Christianity. It wasn't fair to her.