Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
My voice is a little choked when I finish this because I know I’m excommunicated. No one I knew in the fellowship would be allowed to talk to me at this point.
"And the reward for obedience?"
I shrug. "Salvation. The approval of the elders. The approval of your husband. Maybe you'd be allowed to have friends."
He doesn’t talk for long moments, and when he does, his voice is stern. “And were you obedient?"
“Sometimes but not always. I wouldn't allow them to hurt children. I would always speak out against injustice. I know that they tried hard to brainwash me, but I bided my time until I could escape. And even now…"
He waits. I try to formulate my thoughts before I continue. It's hard. It hasn't been very long, and some of the things that I was taught became very deep-seated beliefs. "Even now, I question some of what they told me. They ruled with fear, and I rejected that. But I lived in fear for so long, it's hard for me to understand what I believe now. I feel like I need to reject everything I was taught before I can accept what I myself believe."
Reaching for my hand, he holds it before he speaks. "I could help you find someone to talk to."
I look at him curiously. "Isn't that what I'm doing now?”
"I mean a professional. Like a therapist. Someone who would help you sort through these experiences and thoughts and feelings."
I don't really know if that's something I would want. I shrug. "Maybe at some point. But it helps talking to you."
"But I'm not… a good man. I do terrible things.” He looks away. “You don't know me at all."
This isn't the first time he’s said something like this. I’m not sure how to respond.
He took me in. Saved his cousin. Changed his evening plans to visit with family. He even let me take in a stray. What part of that isn’t good?
"We're not far from my family home. We can pick this conversation up later. But I want you to know something. It doesn't matter what they say or what they do. Do you understand me?"
I do, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. A part of me wants to be accepted by a family so badly that I almost feel I do care what they think. But what if they’re like my family? Would I care what they thought?
One thing’s for sure. I care about what he thinks.
"It takes a lot of courage to leave what you did.”
I wonder if he's talking from personal experience.
"It takes bravery to do what you do, too.”
He gives me a sharp look. "How do you know what I do? Somebody talking?"
I blow out a breath, unsure if this is something that I'm going to regret. But I promised him I would be honest, and I always do what I say I'm going to. "Quinn did. Don't get mad at her, Sergio. I asked. I wanted to know. People are afraid of you!"
The narrowing of his eyes is a warning. “What exactly did she tell you?"
“She said, um… that you're part of… organized crime." This is definitely not the way I should say it, but I’m not sure what else I can say.
He smirks. "Part of organized crime. Okay then."
He neither confirms nor denies it. Great.
We drive in silence for a moment before I get brave enough to ask him, "So is it true?"
“That I’m part of organized crime?” Another smirk. “Yes."
He still offers no more information, just goes on to ask, "How much do you know about organized crime?"
"Almost nothing, except there are groups that do illegal things." My cheeks flush with color. "See, this is why I'm nervous to meet your parents. I mean… your mother, your family. I… I don't really know much about things like this." I stumble over my words, wishing I could take them back.
"You're fine. Relax. I just wanted to know what you knew. Yeah, I'm head of one of the mafia groups in Boston. There are several. My cousin runs another one, and most of the men that you've met are part of our groups. We do things that are illegal. Yes. Does that scare you?"
Again, I give him an honest answer. "Like I've said before, I've been around men that were supposedly good that treated people terribly. I think the terms good and bad are very relative. Don't you?"
He nods his head slowly. "Absolutely."
I stare when we pull up to a big estate. I've barely paid attention in the past few minutes to where we were. Back where I came from, we lived in humble houses so close together it felt like the walls were connected. I could hear people sneeze in the house next door. Here? This looks like they are set apart on a hill. The house is massive, imposing—regal, even. And there are no houses anywhere near it.