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“Bless us with this gift.”

She turns to me, and the dagger’s tip presses beneath my collarbone. I brace myself, jaw clenched, shoulders forced back because I refuse to diminish myself. The sharp point drags across my skin, cutting through my flesh, making blood bead along the wound and trickle down my chest.

I wince at the burn of the blade, but I’ve felt worse pain in the past few weeks.

Evelyn leans in and sweeps her tongue along the red line. My stomach twists from the intimacy of it. The possession. My body has been made into a chalice against my will while she worships herself through me.

She pulls back, eyes fluttering shut as if she’s savoring a sumptuous wine. When she opens them again, they’re burning with a feverish brightness.

“It’s invigorating,” she says, and with a practiced motion, she smears some of my blood along her own neck.

Evelyn lets her gauzy gown fall away and pool at her feet. She presses her naked body against mine. Her skin is so soft and warm it’s almost comforting. But she pushes the dagger harder beneath my other collarbone, drawing more blood that flows down my chest and over my breasts. She traces each line with her tongue, lapping at the crimson streaks. When she pulls back, her mouth and chin are stained red.

The men shift in their seats, a soft collective groan emanating from them as they watch her use my body.

Evelyn stops abruptly and turns.

“Quiet! Or I’ll remove you. This sacred space will not be ruined by your lack of sexual control.”

The room obeys. Every man in the pews bows their head in submission. Their obedience to her is obvious. They believe in her. They believe in all of this.

The women have their own interests. Dry throats in need of the drink my body provides.

Evelyn returns her attention to me and cuts into my shoulder, dragging the dagger down the outside of my arm, still pulled behind me. Pain jolts through me, forcing me to wince and cry out despite my effort to stay silent.

She coos gently. “It’ll be over soon.”

The cruelty in her voice is disgusting. Mostly it angers me that I was blind to it before.

She grips the edge of my robe and slices it away with a casual motion. The bloody fabric falls open, then slips down to the floor. Warm air hits my skin, leaving me fully exposed in front of men who look like they’ve been waiting for this their whole lives.

My body wants to curl inward, but the rope forces me up. Forces me on display.

“Frank,” Evelyn says without looking away from me. “The goblet.”

Frank obediently steps forward from his place off to the side. He grabs the gold cup from the altar and holds it beneath my bleeding arm, catching it as if he’s collecting rainwater.

My mind keeps trying to reject it. Reverend Frank. The man who took me in, who told me everything would be okay. The people of this town love him while he hides behind a mask of decency.

Evelyn cuts into me again, drawing another slow, measured line down my other arm. Her fingers smear through it, gathering enough to rub on her chest, over her breasts. She continues to gather my blood and wipe it on her body, like she’s trying to cover every inch of her skin.

Then she takes the goblet from Frank and lifts it to her lips. Her head tips back as she drinks my blood, her throat moving as she swallows. Red spills over the rim, draining down her chin and dripping onto her chest.

She sets the cup down and fixes her gaze on me with a drunken, glassy-eyed stare as she licks her lips, watching my face for signs of fear, waiting for me to break.

I focus on staying present, even as fatigue seeps into me. My body feels distant and heavy, but I lift my eyes to the rose window, to its stained beauty shining above all this ugliness.

Evelyn drops to her knees in front of me. Men in the crowd lean forward, shifting to the edge of their seats. She looks up at me like she’s worshiping my body as it bleeds out. Her hand smooths up my leg, then stops abruptly, fingers brushing over the E carved into my thigh. A fly in her soup wouldn’t get such a disgusted look.

My eyelids grow heavy, harder and harder to hold open. Every part of my body starts to go numb. Life is draining from me, drip by drip. I don’t want to give up, not after everything I’ve been through and fought to overcome. But at this point, there’s nothing I can do.

My body only reacts when Evelyn pushes the tip of the dagger into my thigh. Right into the letter.

Then a loud bang cracks through the sanctuary as both front doors explode open.

Every head turns. Evelyn startles and quickly stands.

Edwin is in the doorway, framed by night and firelight. It’s obvious he’s been through hell trying to get here, with his hair all disheveled and his cheeks streaked with dirt. There’s a gun in his hand, arm raised, aim steady.