The Prophet (Ryan Archer #2) by William Casey Moreton Read Free Book Online Page A

of time. There were no clocks so the hours of the day ran together in an endless loop.  
    Alexander was standing at the door in front of her. He smiled, that warm smile that comforted her so very deeply. At this moment, though, she didn’t feel as comforted by it as she had before. She was too nervous to feel much comfort.  
    Alexander stood with his hands in his pockets, facing her from a few paces away, his back to the door. It was an outside door. It opened to one of the courtyards.  
    “What are you feeling inside, Tatum?” he asked.
    She wanted to lie and say she felt brave, but the thought of lying to Alexander made her feel even worse.
    “A little scared, I guess,” she said.
    His eyes twinkled. “Of course,” he said. “That’s only natural. Just try to remember all we’ve learned together. Remember, the fear is all in your mind. It isn’t real. Fear isn’t of God. It comes only from Satan. Satan wants you to continue to live in fear and darkness. God is inviting you to step into the light. You can do this, Tatum.”
    His smile made her feel braver, but still not brave enough.  
    “Whenever you are ready,” he said. He waited patiently.
    Tatum didn’t want to disappoint him, but she was afraid she might. She didn’t feel the strength to do what he was asking her to do. Her belly twisted with anxiety. There was a throbbing in her head, the kind of pounding ache she always felt at the thought of bright sunlight shining down onto her skin. Beyond the door behind Alexander was the outside world, a world filled with sunlight, and he had asked her to be a brave girl and step out into it with him. He had taught her many things over the past few days, and he was convinced she was ready for this first step. Tatum wasn’t so sure. A massive wave of anxiety swept over her.
    “I can’t,” she said, and immediately regretted the words.
    “You can,” he countered, and again the sparkle in his eyes offered her courage. “One step at a time.”
    Tatum swallowed, her throat suddenly as dry as sandpaper. She unzipped the hooded sweatshirt, overcome with the familiar impulse to cover her head with the protective hood. She shrugged the sweatshirt off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Beneath she wore a plain pale blue T-shirt, her arms bare and exposed. She could feel sweat gathering under her arms and at the palms of her hands. Her legs felt so weak she could barely stand. She stood on the cool tile in bare feet, her creamy white toes already anticipating the touch of the warm grass beyond the door.
    Her pulse raced and her breathing grew more labored. It felt like she might hyperventilate.  
    “Are you ready, Tatum?” Alexander asked.
    No … no … no, I am not ready for this! she wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and run away in the opposite direction and hide in the closet of the bedroom where she had been sleeping. She imagined what awaited her, the sun in the sky and its rays cascading to earth to burn the flesh from her body. The thought of it alone paralyzed her with dread.
    She nodded her head. I can do this, she told herself.  
    “Step closer,” he said.
    She tried to swallow but couldn’t. Her throat had closed. She took a small step toward him.
    “Take my hand,” he said.
    She lifted her arm and he took her hand. His hand was large and warm.  
    “Close your eyes,” he said.
    She could barely keep her balance the dread was so great. She closed her eyes and felt the walls begin to close in around her. Then she heard the sound of Alexander unlocking the door and turning the doorknob, and then felt warm air push into the room and it smelled like newly mowed grass. A tear formed in one eye and rolled down her cheek. She didn’t want to burn. She knew the fear was all in her head, but that didn’t make it any less real to her dysfunctional mind.
    “Walk forward,” he said. “No worries, I have your hand.”
    She stepped beyond the threshold and felt the sidewalk underfoot