Sitting up on the bed, the ropes still tight and unyielding around my hands and feet, I tried to keep calm. The morning sun was filtering in through the window, flooding the sparse room with a yellowy glow. It could almost be serene, beautiful even, if I were not being held captive.
Footsteps sounded outside my door and shadows danced from the slit underneath. My breathing quickened and I grew stiff, waiting for whomever was about to enter.
The doorknob began to turn, and a second later, a woman entered wearing a long white dress, her vibrant red hair falling to the middle of her back, the front shielding her face.
“Greetings,” she said, her back to me as she shut the door.
“Gr-greetings,” I forced myself to reply. This woman must be my new stewardess, just as Sister Eve had been for most of my life. I kept my eyes to the floor, and suddenly the woman’s sandal-clad feet came into view.
“Look up,” the woman ordered, and doing as requested, I looked up. The woman was about my age, pretty… and she was smiling at me.
I did not understand her affection. I was a Cursed. I was not someone to be friendly toward. I was not to be interacted with, even by those charged with my care.
The woman lifted her hand, and I stilled as she stroked a finger down my cheek. “You do not recognize me, do you?” the woman said, and it caused me to study her further.
Her eyes were a stunning shade of green, her frame womanly with curves in all the right places. She was alluring. She was smiling… She was—
“Phebe?” I whispered, my pulse racing. “My Phebe?”
The woman’s eyes filled with happy tears and a blinding smile lit up her face as she dropped to kneel on the floor before me. “Rebekah. My sweet, sweet little Rebekah.”
My world stopped turning on hearing that name… my birth name, my blessed name awarded to me by my parents… before they realized the devil lived within me, before I was ripped away from those I loved, shunned and sent away to be saved.
“Do not say that name, please,” I begged, and Phebe lost her smile.
Her hand stroked my tangled hair from my face and she said sadly, “I know what you are and I know that evil runs in your veins. But you were always my precious beautiful little sister. My Rebekah who would sneak into my bed at night and allow me to braid her hair, allow me to sing her hymns and wait eagerly for me to recite scripture.” Her green eyes watched me, and she added, “Do you remember, my sister? Do you remember those precious times we shared before you were cast out?”
Memories flooded back. Happy times shared with Phebe engulfed my mind, memories I had blocked out. She cared for me, laughed with me, smiled with me, did chores with me, sang to me, read to me… loved me. I could not remember anybody loving me apart from Bella, Mae, and Maddie… and now Ky, although I understood that was enchanted, a spell.
“Psalm twenty-three,” I whispered after Phebe had dropped her eyes, a disappointed expression consuming her pretty face. “We would sing Psalm twenty-three.”
Phebe gasped and tears filled her eyes. “You remember…”
The two of us sat staring at one another as Phebe trailed off the scripture I held most sacred. Two young girls now grown. Lives lived, but not together. Scars borne, but not inflicted by the other. Two girls bonded, but no more than strangers. Intertwined pasts, but frayed and lonely futures.
Phebe’s head tipped to the side. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever beheld. The rumors of your beauty are not exaggerated.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “I am a Cursed, Phebe. I am born of Satan.”
Phebe’s eyes dipped. “This I know.”
“My mother…” I hushed out.
Phebe nodded sadly. “They came for her, tried her as a heretic. At first, she denied their claims that she had lain with Satan and bore his cursed child. But after days of trials, she grew weak and confessed. She was executed quickly and given a proper burial for her repentance.”
I felt a physical pain slice through my heart for the woman that gave me life. I vaguely remembered her, but I did not know her well. My memories were fleeting glimpses of her brushing my hair and securing it in my headdress to hide its blond color and length. I remember her trimming my long, dark eyelashes with scissors so my eyes did not draw attention. A white cream would be rubbed onto my cheeks to ensure I looked pale, and a dark powder would be dabbed under my eyes so they looked sunken and tired.
My shaking fingers had lifted to my face and were circling the skin under my eyes. Phebe took my hand in hers and lowered them to my knees.