Prologue

Faith… sometimes it’s passionate and fleeting. One minute you’re swimming in it, diving into the deepest recesses of the one you worship. You bathe in their heat as their healing presence swarms all around you and builds an almost unbreakable devotion.

You believe in them, trust and rely on them blindly, knowing that if you fall, their loyal hands will catch you. You’re convicted, so strongly dedicated to them that the rest of your world falls to the background and there is only their grace.

And the next minute, your reverence has broken apart, exposing breath and bone. Bringing you down and leaving you faithless in all things that once held purpose and hope. Beliefs unbind and all you can do is hold on to the memories of when you felt savored and whole.

I was once faithless. Believing only in myself and the things that I could touch with my two hands, but then love took up residence in my heart and stole my soul. Something bloomed inside of me that lacked explanation and reason and I nourished it, believing with that love, all things were possible. I prospered, held strong with just a promise of desire’s sweet breaths.

And then I was abandoned and there was nothing.

Passion and desire desert you and you find that Faith, however tainted and brief, has changed you, reshaped your DNA and made you someone you never thought you’d be. And then you look back at the one that held your devotion for so long, and you find she’s not rapture in soft pink, but a demon with creamy skin and endless eyes—endless eyes that I swore would never capture me again.

Part One:

Young Love

One

Faith

“I blew him,” Amanda said loudly.

A girl walking down the hallway looked over at us like we were disgusting. I waited until she was out of earshot to respond.

“What do you mean you ‘blew’ him? Is that like some sick slang for something sexually disturbing?” I asked, confused.

Amanda’s laughter got the attention of everyone around us. The last bell had just rung and the hallways were packed with girls in uniform hustling to get home. Her face was red and tears of laughter ran from her eyes.

“Oh my God, Faith, you crack me up, girl.” She wiped the smudged eyeliner from underneath her eyes and took a deep breath.

I had no idea what was so funny, but at that point, I was too embarrassed to ask. I assumed that whatever she was talking about was sexual, and knowing her, it was probably disgusting. I was clueless to stuff like that. Daddy said when the time was right my husband would show me everything I needed to know.

My parents always made sure to keep me in the dark about the opposite sex. I once saw a naked man briefly while I was flipping through the channels. My mom saw it, too, and three days later, my dad had the cable turned off.

Amanda’s laughter stopped and her face cleared. “Wait, you really don’t know what that means, do you?”

I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I put my head down to hide my red cheeks and stuffed my hair behind my ear. I didn’t think my face could get any hotter—that is until Amanda took the time to actually explain the ins and outs of oral sex.

I spent the next twenty minutes staring at her like she was the most repulsive person alive as she explained in detail how she’d spent her night with her new boyfriend Kevin. Almost everything I knew about sex, Amanda taught me as she told me about her different boyfriends and what they’d done on their dates.

“That’s disgusting.” I felt sick to my stomach just hearing about it.

“Actually, it’s kind of nice.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry I laughed at you. Sometimes I forget your situation.”

She reached in and gave me big hug. She knew what my life was like. She’d once had to live the same life before her situation changed.

“Don’t worry about it. Sometimes I forget you’re finally free.” I laughed.

“Free, my ass! Mom’s being a total bitch about me using her car for anything. Speaking of, Saturday night movies… yes or no?” Amanda asked as she pulled out her English book and slammed her locker shut.

She ran her fingers through her long blond hair and adjusted her hot-pink purse strap on her shoulder. Her chunky heels clunked against the floor as she waited for my answer. She could always pull off fun clothes like that. Honestly, I had no idea why she was still friends with me.

We’d known each other since we played with baby dolls and wore lacey socks with our Mary Janes. Sadly, on occasion I still wore lacey socks. When we were younger, we were both sheltered and childish, but she grew up and was no longer under her dad’s strict thumb since her parents had shocked the church and got a divorce.