Page 33 of Wreck and Ruin
“I have a key,” I admit, and his eyes light up as if he’s just witnessed someone perform a miracle.
“Don't threaten me with a good time, Little Siren,” he says, pulling his mouth into a smile.
I'm not quite sure what he means.
He must sense my confusion because he looks at me, his fingers now peppering little touches across the back of my hand.
I love it when he does that.
Reads me when I am unsure or don’t know the right words to say. It makes talking to him all the more easier because he knows me almost better than I know myself.
“What I mean is, you gotta let me go, baby. And I know I've said it over and over again. But I can't stay like this,” he whispers, slowly moving his hand to play with my hair.
“I know. It’s just… I am afraid that they will find you, and if they do, theywillhurt you, Ezekiel?—”
“They're not going to hurt me, baby. I promise. At least not physically. There is only one way they can hurt me, and that’s if they hurt you. And those fucking assholeshavebeen hurting you. Which is why you have to let me go, Airlie. I won't let them lay a single fucking crooked finger on your body again.Little Siren,” his voice grows quieter. “I can't protect you if I'm locked away down here,” he stares into my eyes. His are bright like a clear morning sky, but beneath that calm surface, I know they're filled with storms.
I know that he means it.
I know that he would do anything to protect me. But I haven't been willing to risk it until now. He is all I have. I have no one. And if something happens to him, I will be alone forever.
I have to tell him what he means to me. I have to say to him that I love him. I don’t know for sure, but I know I would die for him. I would let those men hurt me if it meant that Ezekiel was safe. If that means love, then I think I feel it.
“I know that I have been bad. And I know that God won't like what I've been doing down here with you, but?—”
“God?” he spits, chuckling a little, but I don’t miss the disgust lacing his tone. “YourGodis not a nice guy, Little Siren. He doesn't give a single fuck about you and me. Or anyone else who is currently starving or fighting for their fucking lives,” he says, shaking his head.
Is he angry?
Have I made him mad?
I look away. Not because I'm afraid. I just need a moment to process.
“I have always been taught that God is all-powerful. He sees e-everything, created everything, and is the embodiment of all that is g-good and kind.”
“Baby, if he was allkind, could see the horrors of this world, and wasall-powerful, wouldn't that make him a fake?” His words cut through me, and ice-cold tendrils trickle down my spine. How could he say that God is fake?
That can't be right.
Could it?
The thought races through my mind, dissecting everything I’ve been taught to believe.
Given the man who taught me, I know I have been lied to. There are so many lies I realize now that I think about it. But surely not about the existence of God? Where is my mother if she's not in heaven? The thought of her soul not being in a beautiful, peaceful place makes me sick to my stomach.
“How do those things make Him a fake? I d-don't understand.”
“If He was kind and had the power to change the world as we know it, the world that He created.Allegedly.And He hasn't lifted a fucking finger to help. To heal. To stop a man or woman from hurting a child. Stop them from taking away their innocence… that either makes him a fake or fucking evil.” Ezekiel’s voice is low and steady.
Patient, his fingers weave through my long hair, granting me silence to think and try to understand what he’s saying.
“How could God let His people that he apparently loves, His shepherds, messenger’s or whatever the fuck they call themselves, get away with crimes the Devil himself wouldn’t let slide?”
“Maybe God is real but has no power. Maybe He used it all up on building the world,” I say softly, the words tasting sour as they leave my mouth. I feel absurd saying it.
Emptiness spreads through my body as a heaviness assaults my chest. The thought of there being no eternal life after this is almost too much for me to bear. It would mean that I would never see my mother again. I would never hear her tell me that she loves me or ever feel her warmth.
Her love.
