I was going through?
Did He want me to go through this?
My brow furrowed. No, how could He? He was loving, kind, caring, devoted . . .
Or was I supposed to be the devoted one?
No! A strong shake of my head sent pain shooting through my shoulder, reminding me once again of the murder, of the images. Of the scars. Mute proof that God hadn’t watched out for me.
Or had He? I mean, I wasn’t killed, was I?
Ugh!
I flopped back onto my bed. Grabbed the blanket and held it against me. I needed to feel something . . . anything. Even if it was a soft ts’ede’ . Or anger.
The bandage on my neck itched, hurt, was too tight. My wound hurt, burned. Just another reminder of the murder. Of that man . . .
Would those murderers come after me? Did they know who I was?
Of course not. How could they?
Stop it. Just focus. Everything would be fine, I just needed to get back to normal.
If I even had a normal.
Stop it! Focus. Focus. Focus.
It’s January 14. That gives me about two months until the big race. You can do it, Zoya.
But the more I did, the more questions rose within me.
God? Why did You take my dad away? Why did you let all those things happen to Andie and Auntie Jenna? Why haven’t You come again to take the sin out of the world?
Where was He?
My stomach knotted. Thoughts came flooding in. Memories. Emotions. Pain.
Andie in Uncle Marc’s arms. Andie playing with Uncle Marc.
Andie hugging Cole. Andie teasing Cole. Andie and Cole doing a craft. Andie and Cole laughing together.
Why did she get all the good stuff?
She had the faith. She had the dad. Two dads. How come she got two when I didn’t even have one?
I’d always believed God was my heavenly Father . . . but He was supposed to take care of me. Right?
It wasn’t fair. The tears kept building up. But I couldn’t let them escape . . . Mom didn’t need another thing to worry about.
It just isn’t fair!
I sniffed. I would not cry. Mom would hear. Try to talk me into spilling my guts. But she wouldn’t understand. She didn’t need more stress.
No. No crying.
I swallowed. Why aren’t You here? I can’t feel You.
I stared at the Bible. Waiting. Searching.
Nothing.
I picked it up and threw it. Its thud against the wall made me wince.
But it felt good.
I did it again. Over and over. The spine tore. A chunk of 1 Timothy fell to the floor beside a few pages of Matthew and Job.
I let the tears fall. Bit my bottom lip, trying to hold back the sobs.
My Bible lay on the floor. Pathetic . . .
“Zoya? Are you all right?” Mom’s voice echoed up the stairs.
I poked my head out the door. “I’m fine.” Sasha sat like a sentinel and cocked her head at me. Blue eyes searching.
“I heard a bunch of thuds?”
She sounded worried.
Great. Way to go, Zoya.
Whatever. “Yeah, that was um . . . just Sasha.” I dragged Sasha in and shut the door. Would Mom figure out my lie? Did it even matter?
My shoulders slumped. Why was I so angry?
I fell onto the bed and let every emotion simmer. Every tear fall.
God, what’s going on with me?
Sasha jumped onto the bed and whimpered. I wrapped my arms around her neck and buried my face in her fur.
The voice in the back of my head ranted: “Don’t listen to Him!”
I jerked upward. Then picked up the tattered Bible and shoved it onto the top shelf of my closet.
Sasha barked. I sniffed and wiped my nose on my sleeve. See if I care what that book of lies says.
Lovingkindness . . .
See if I care .
CHAPTER SEVEN
SEAN
January 14
Naltsiine Kennels
11:09 a.m.
“Okay, Sean, I’m ready for you again.”
Sean turned to follow Anesia back into the office. He’d been pacing the hallway since she received a phone call that interrupted her explanation of how her previous full-time employee was killed.
“Sean, I’m so sorry for that interruption. It was my daughter’s doctor. If I hire you, I promise to explain everything in detail, but right now, well, it’s enough to say we’ve had some major
Did He want me to go through this?
My brow furrowed. No, how could He? He was loving, kind, caring, devoted . . .
Or was I supposed to be the devoted one?
No! A strong shake of my head sent pain shooting through my shoulder, reminding me once again of the murder, of the images. Of the scars. Mute proof that God hadn’t watched out for me.
Or had He? I mean, I wasn’t killed, was I?
Ugh!
I flopped back onto my bed. Grabbed the blanket and held it against me. I needed to feel something . . . anything. Even if it was a soft ts’ede’ . Or anger.
The bandage on my neck itched, hurt, was too tight. My wound hurt, burned. Just another reminder of the murder. Of that man . . .
Would those murderers come after me? Did they know who I was?
Of course not. How could they?
Stop it. Just focus. Everything would be fine, I just needed to get back to normal.
If I even had a normal.
Stop it! Focus. Focus. Focus.
It’s January 14. That gives me about two months until the big race. You can do it, Zoya.
But the more I did, the more questions rose within me.
God? Why did You take my dad away? Why did you let all those things happen to Andie and Auntie Jenna? Why haven’t You come again to take the sin out of the world?
Where was He?
My stomach knotted. Thoughts came flooding in. Memories. Emotions. Pain.
Andie in Uncle Marc’s arms. Andie playing with Uncle Marc.
Andie hugging Cole. Andie teasing Cole. Andie and Cole doing a craft. Andie and Cole laughing together.
Why did she get all the good stuff?
She had the faith. She had the dad. Two dads. How come she got two when I didn’t even have one?
I’d always believed God was my heavenly Father . . . but He was supposed to take care of me. Right?
It wasn’t fair. The tears kept building up. But I couldn’t let them escape . . . Mom didn’t need another thing to worry about.
It just isn’t fair!
I sniffed. I would not cry. Mom would hear. Try to talk me into spilling my guts. But she wouldn’t understand. She didn’t need more stress.
No. No crying.
I swallowed. Why aren’t You here? I can’t feel You.
I stared at the Bible. Waiting. Searching.
Nothing.
I picked it up and threw it. Its thud against the wall made me wince.
But it felt good.
I did it again. Over and over. The spine tore. A chunk of 1 Timothy fell to the floor beside a few pages of Matthew and Job.
I let the tears fall. Bit my bottom lip, trying to hold back the sobs.
My Bible lay on the floor. Pathetic . . .
“Zoya? Are you all right?” Mom’s voice echoed up the stairs.
I poked my head out the door. “I’m fine.” Sasha sat like a sentinel and cocked her head at me. Blue eyes searching.
“I heard a bunch of thuds?”
She sounded worried.
Great. Way to go, Zoya.
Whatever. “Yeah, that was um . . . just Sasha.” I dragged Sasha in and shut the door. Would Mom figure out my lie? Did it even matter?
My shoulders slumped. Why was I so angry?
I fell onto the bed and let every emotion simmer. Every tear fall.
God, what’s going on with me?
Sasha jumped onto the bed and whimpered. I wrapped my arms around her neck and buried my face in her fur.
The voice in the back of my head ranted: “Don’t listen to Him!”
I jerked upward. Then picked up the tattered Bible and shoved it onto the top shelf of my closet.
Sasha barked. I sniffed and wiped my nose on my sleeve. See if I care what that book of lies says.
Lovingkindness . . .
See if I care .
CHAPTER SEVEN
SEAN
January 14
Naltsiine Kennels
11:09 a.m.
“Okay, Sean, I’m ready for you again.”
Sean turned to follow Anesia back into the office. He’d been pacing the hallway since she received a phone call that interrupted her explanation of how her previous full-time employee was killed.
“Sean, I’m so sorry for that interruption. It was my daughter’s doctor. If I hire you, I promise to explain everything in detail, but right now, well, it’s enough to say we’ve had some major
Similar Books
