“I say ‘belong,’ but belonging indicates a conscious choice,” she said bitterly. “I was a prisoner and treated as such.”
At that, Isaac’s expression darkened but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
“I wasn’t always with them,” she said wistfully. “Or at least I don’t think I was. I have memories of when I was young. I think they were of my parents. I remember a man—my father? Tossing me in the air and then kissing me on the nose.”
Tears burned her eyelids as she strained to assemble those memories in her mind, desperately wanting to hold on to them and for them to be true. That at one time, someone had loved her and had wanted her.
“He always smiled at me. And the woman . . . I don’t have as many memories of her, but I remember her making a birthday cake for me and me blowing out the candles.”
“How many candles?” Isaac asked, interrupting her for the first time. “Think hard, baby. How many candles were on your cake?”
She frowned, concentrating on the fleeting image of the cake, the man singing “Happy Birthday” in an off-key voice, but one that was filled with love. She closed her eyes, focusing on the cake. It had been pink. Pink frosting with lots of flowers in different colors. The candles stood in a straight line, thin wisps of smoke rapidly dissipating when she’d blown them out.
“Four!” she exclaimed excitedly. She turned to stare at Isaac. “There were four candles on the cake. I was four years old,” she said in a hushed voice. Then her expression became sad and she dropped her gaze from Isaac’s. “That’s the last memory I have of my parents.”
“You must have been abducted soon after your fourth birthday,” Isaac said gently. “How many years were you with the cult?”
Shame coursed through her all over again. “I don’t know,” she whispered sadly. “They seem like such a blur to me. The cult never celebrated birthdays. I mean, not for me.”
Isaac tensed against her and she could feel the anger rolling off him in waves.
“I tried to use other people’s birthdays to mark time, but people came and went.”
She shivered. “It was forbidden for anyone to leave once joining the cult, but people disappeared over the years and nothing was ever said about them. No one questioned their absence. It was as if they’d never existed.”
Isaac’s hold around her tightened and he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Don’t think about them right now, baby. Stay right here with me in the present where nothing can hurt you. Not ever again.”
She leaned into his comfort and remained there in silence a long moment.
“My best guess for how long I was with them is nineteen or twenty years. Wouldn’t that make me twenty-three or twenty-four years old now?”
Isaac squeezed her to him and he seemed relieved. “Yes, baby. You’d be twenty-three or twenty-four. It’s hard to believe, though. You look and seem so much younger. So innocent for someone your age.”
His reaction puzzled her but she didn’t question him. She was lost in the past. After maintaining strict silence for so long, it was as if a dam had burst and the memories came tumbling out.
“I think I was targeted because of my ability to heal, but how had they known? I’ve never understood how they could have known when I was so young. But from the very beginning I was held separate from the others and I was routinely called upon to heal injuries. They convinced me that I was God’s instrument and it was my duty to help those in need, and yet I was kept in complete isolation. I was never allowed to heal anyone except the elders or those who were high ranking in the cult.”
“Elders?” Isaac asked, his brow wrinkled in confusion.
“They were the leaders. They held absolute authority over everyone. There were five of them. Older. Everyone feared them and were subservient to them. Their word was law, and they said that they were God’s direct messengers and we should take their word and judgment as being from God himself.”
“Nice way to ensure absolute obedience and for no one to question your actions,” Isaac muttered.
Jenna nodded adamantly. “Questioning an elder was the greatest sin a member could commit and punishments were harsh. Those that questioned or disagreed with the elders went missing and were never seen or heard from again.”
“Son of a bitch,” Isaac snarled.
She glanced down at her hands, struggling with long pent-up emotion.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Isaac asked, hugging her a little tighter.
“In the beginning when I was so young, they treated me like I was special. As I said, they told me I was God’s instrument, chosen by him, you know, like I was worthy in some way. But later I realized it was their way of brainwashing me and of gaining my compliance.
“As I got older, I began to question things like why a woman in the cult was allowed to die in childbirth when I could have saved her. I was told that it was God’s will and I wasn’t to interfere. Foolishly, I told them that every time I healed someone I was interfering, so why was I given a gift from God if I was only supposed to use it selectively and only at the behest of the elders, and why were only some in the cult deserving of mercy and healing while others weren’t? I was beaten severely and then branded an abomination. Satan’s tool, and that the cult’s duty was to drive the demons from me.”
Isaac swore violently, his arms loosening around her as his fingers flexed and curled into tight fists.
“I was told to renounce Satan and to admit that my gift was evil and not in accordance with God’s will. I refused and I was beaten again. I was locked in a sublevel room with no light, no food or water, and left there until I was so weak that I didn’t have the strength to feed myself or drink when it was finally offered to me. I couldn’t even hold myself up, much less walk, when they came for me. They dragged me from the room after I had spent so many days there that in the end I lost count.”
Isaac’s rage was a terrible tangible thing in the air surrounding them. His entire body was taut, his muscles rippling, as he sought to control his reaction to the retelling of her treatment at the cult’s hands.