Revelations: Fire & Brimstone Scroll 1

by Nikole Knight

  “I’m not, I promise. I’ve been good, just like you taught me.” I clutched the phone desperately, praying she believed me. “I promise.”

  Her tone softened to gentle soothing, and my knees collapsed in relief, my butt landing on my mattress. “Good boy, Riley. You’re being honest with me, aren’t you? Because if I find out you’re lying, I won’t hesitate to pull you out of school and bring you home. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I understand.” I sniffled, wiping at my wet cheeks. “I’ll be better, I will.”

  When she harrumphed, I sealed my lips closed as I waited for her verdict. I had disappointed her, like I always managed to do, and I hated myself for it. She was the closest thing I had to a mother, and I wanted to be the best son I could be, even though I would never measure up. In all honesty, I was a terrible son.

  I wasn’t technically her foster son anymore since I had aged out of the system at eighteen, but she continued to take care of me as if I was her own. She paid for my phone and managed my finances. I received a monthly allowance, never wanting for necessities like shampoo and toothpaste. She called every few days to check up on me, to keep me on the straight and narrow. When I made mistakes, she disciplined me. Because she loved me. Because it was what mothers did for their sons.

  She sighed heavily, air whistling through her nose. “Cleanse before bed. We’ll be both feel better if you do, won’t we?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I reveled in the relief of her forgiveness. “Thank you.”

  “It’s late, and you want to be well-rested for your classes tomorrow, so straight to bed after.” It wasn’t a suggestion, and I voiced my agreement as my head bobbed. “Good boy.”

  “Thank you for calling,” I said as I always did at the end of our phone calls.

  She grunted impatiently. “Well, what do you expect, child? I’ve got to keep my eye on you somehow; you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached.”

  “Thank you,” I echoed dumbly.

  With another cluck of her tongue, she rang off. “Cleanse, then straight to bed.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.” The line clicked before I could get the entire word out, and I lowered the phone and flipped it shut.

  Rubbing my face, I stared down at my phone in shame. Shame from my relief at the end of the conversation. Shame for wishing Ms. Janet, the woman who had taken care of me since I was twelve, wouldn’t call so often. Shame at the bitterness burning through my veins like poison.

  Ms. Janet, for all her strict rules I never quite understood, loved me. She put up with me when so many other families turned me away for being too weird, too crazy. Yet I dreaded her phone calls, and I repaid her with weakness and lies. I was selfish and wicked, just like she said.

  I may not have done anything inappropriate with Kayla, but I had agreed to go to a party with her, a party I strategically chose not to divulge to Ms. Janet. Granted, I wasn’t planning to actually attend. But I had lied by omission, by keeping it secret. I deserved her discipline.

  Standing from my bed, I plugged my phone in to charge and smoothed my clothes with shaky fingers. I didn’t want to cleanse, but I needed to. I was an evil, vile person, and it would bring absolution, redemption.

  It would make me better; it always did.

  Chapter Five

  By Saturday evening, I started to panic. Since I had no excuse not to attend the party, I decided to hide in my room the entire day. If Bethany stopped by, I could always feign illness. I had never faked being sick before, but I could probably manage it.

  Unfortunately, my clever plan of cowering in my bed as I played computer games was interrupted by Brian and a giggling brunette. Their sudden appearance startled me, and I jolted on my mattress, my earbuds tugging from my ears as they stumbled into the room. With mouths melded, Brian fondled the girl’s behind, but when her eyes flitted to me, she yelped and tore her lips from his.

  “I thought you said your roommate was out?” She smiled coyly, like she wasn’t exactly upset about my presence, but I withered under the harsh glare my roommate shot me as he, too, noticed me.

  “He was just leaving. Right, Queerbie?” He jerked his thumb toward the door, and I gaped at him.

  “W-what?”

  Brian loomed over my bed, and I cowered into the wall as the too-smiley girl launched herself into Brian’s bed. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get lost for a while.”

  The injustice of it all made my eyes burn, and I fisted my trembling hands as I fought the urge to backtalk. “I was here first—”

  He slammed my laptop shut, his jaw tight. “Out.”

  “You know,” the girl cooed as a strappy piece of clothing—her bra—landed on my pillow. “He could join. He’s cute.”

  Horrified, I shoved my laptop to the foot of my bed, grabbed my Robinson Crusoe book, and scrambled toward the door. I didn’t pause in my retreat for fear of seeing the now topless girl. I aimed my gaze on the floor, but it was impossible to miss the chilling glower Brian served me—like it was my suggestion I join their canoodling, not hers.

  As the door crashed shut behind me and the lock clicked, I heaved a sigh of relief. I wanted to escape before the whale noises started, and I fled the building into the unseasonably warm late afternoon sunshine.

  Students milled about campus, enjoying the pleasant weather, and I wandered to a secluded tree near a grassy field where a group played flag football. Settling at the base of the tree, I watched the teams run across the grass, passing the football between players. I’d never played football, but it seemed fun.

  Several people in costume passed by, and it took me longer than I was proud of to make the connection to today’s date. Halloween. I had never celebrated Halloween, at least not that I could remember. Every year since I was twelve, Ms. Janet reiterated how it was Satan’s holiday, and I pitied the innocent trick-or-treaters who braved her front porch in search of sweets. They received a lecture, instead.

  I glanced away from a girl dressed like a nurse, though the hem of her dress was far shorter than regulation, and opened my book. After only two pages, a shadow crept over the paper, and I blinked against the sunlight as I lifted my head to investigate the interruption. A tall figure loomed over me, dressed in a black T-shirt bearing the name of a band I didn’t know, dark jeans, black boots, and a leather jacket.

  Jai smirked down at me. “Hey.”

  “Uh, hi.” I closed my book and squinted against his sunny backdrop. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he deflected.

  Without invitation, he plopped down beside me and tugged a strange black pipe-looking thing out of an inside pocket of his leather jacket. Jai then retrieved an unmarked package and took a pinch of what I assumed to be tobacco and stuffed it into one end of the elongated pipe. He lit the dried herbs and inhaled. Heady spices filled the air as he blew smoke rings above our heads.

  My curiosity couldn’t be contained. “What’s that?”

  “This” —he pointed to the pipe-contraption— “is a medwakh. This” —he motioned to the tobacco itself— “is dokha, a Middle Eastern tobacco. Wanna try?”

  “No thanks.” I leaned away when he offered me the medwakh. “You shouldn’t smoke. It’s not good for you.”

  Like he was privy to a joke I was not, he chuckled darkly, his voice dripping sarcasm. “That’s smart advice, shortstack.”

  My half-formulated response fled my mind at the nickname, and the déjà vu I was growing accustomed to when faced with my new acquaintances washed over me again. I had spoken to Jai a mere handful of times, yet something deep in my psyche recognized the title. He had called me that before, hadn’t he? But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember when.

  “What did you call me?” The question popped out before I could swallow it.

  Jai squirmed beside me, taking an extra-long drag of dokha and puffing another smoke circle skyward. “Never
mind that. What’cha reading?”

  “Uh…” Impatient, he snatched my book, and I sputtered as he inspected the title, grinning. “Hey, give it back.”

  He ignored me, rifling through the pages until he came to my red-threaded bookmark. “Oh, I already read this part.” The pages fluttered as he jumped ahead several chapters, pausing at a dog-eared page. “I’m here. You have a lot of catching up to do.”

  With a strangled choke, I yanked the book out of his hands and smoothed the folded edge of the paper, cringing at the dent marring the page. “Why would you do that?”

  “Hey, that was marking my spot,” he grunted, and I shook my head as I tried in vain to remove the blemish.

  “You can’t do that. Now it’s ruined.” My reprimand was sharper than I intended as panic bloomed in my chest. “You shouldn’t destroy other people’s property.”

  Snorting in exasperation, he inhaled deeply through the medwakh, then snuffed out the smoldering tobacco. “I didn’t destroy it. I just bent the corner.”

  I couldn’t respond, too busy having an internal freak-out as the ghost of Ms. Janet’s ruler cracked over my knuckles. She’d lectured me the first time she caught me folding the corner of one of her books. After the harangue, I had knelt in the kitchen, my fingers aching while she prepared a dinner I wasn’t allowed to eat.

  “Riley? Riley, you with me?” A calloused finger poked my cheek. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the unexpected contact. “Sorry,” he rasped as he withdrew, his touch branding a tingling trail on my skin.

  Suddenly overheated, I swallowed the lump in my throat and dropped my eyes to the book in my lap. “It’s not good anymore,” I whispered, irrationally rubbing at the crease in the paper. “It’s supposed to be perfect, but now, it’s not.”

  Like he tasted something sour, Jai’s lips puckered, his dark brows furrowed in a deep frown. “Perfection is unattainable, and chasing it is a fruitless endeavor.”

  Like my fidgeting annoyed him, he stilled my obsessive fingers with his own. His palm blanketed the back of my hand, squeezing uncomfortably tight while still managing to warm my skin. Goose bumps rippled up my arm as a shiver trembled through my bones.

  “Nothing and no one is perfect. We’re all battered and bent, worn around the edges. We have scars, but I like to think they tell a story of strength, not brokenness.” Curling his long fingers around my hand, he shoved it away from the page. “You can still read it, can’t you? The story hasn’t changed. So what if there’s a crease in the corner? Why the fuck does it matter?”

  As his words worked through my glitching brain, I struggled to form an answer. I always believed Ms. Janet and heeded her wisdom. She was only trying to be a good mother and raise me right, to be good. Why would I question her many lectures? Yes, some of her sermons bordered on extremism, but it wasn’t my place to challenge her. Good sons were supposed to do as they were told.

  But, maybe Jai had a point. I was rather neurotic when it came to keeping things clean and orderly. In the past, laxing in those duties meant discipline, so I had adapted. Perhaps, it was slightly irrational to get this worked up over a simple dog-eared page.

  “I guess it’s not a big deal.” I ducked my head, embarrassed at my silly outburst, and nearly died of humiliation when I noticed Jai’s hand still covering mine. With a squeak, I jerked out of his hold, horrified someone might have seen us holding hands.

  An awkward silence descended as Jai took back his hand. I shut the book with a sharp whack, fiddling with the red tail of my bookmark. He cleared his throat and cracked his neck. I stole glances from the corner of my eye, unsure how to proceed now that I had made such a mess of our first full conversation. No wonder I had no friends.

  Clacking his tongue piercing against his teeth, he tracked a group of girls sauntering by, his gaze lingering on their scantily clad bottoms. On instinct, I followed his stare, but the expanse of exposed skin did little to entice me. To be honest, it made me horribly uncomfortable, and I returned my attention to his face.

  Of course, it was impossible to feign disinterest in the glinting ball embedded in his tongue, and I licked my lips and gathered some bravery. “So, um, did that hurt?”

  “Did what hurt?” he asked absently as he made eye-contact with an attractive redhead dressed like a provocative cavewoman. She smiled coyly, and he winked at her, his lips spreading in a sly smirk.

  Annoyed at his distraction, I glared at my lap, picking at the grass beneath me. If he wanted to go talk to the female homo erectus, I wouldn’t stop him, but his sudden disinterest felt like a snub.

  He nudged my shoulder with his, and I peeked up at him. “Did what hurt?” he repeated, giving me his full attention.

  My cheeks warmed, and I pointed to his mouth. “Your piercing.”

  Sticking out his tongue, he wiggled it like a kid, and I laughed into my hand. “Depends on your pain tolerance, I suppose. Pain is relative.”

  With a shrug, I piled the tufts of grass into a mound near my knee. “Looks like it hurt.”

  “Wasn’t as bad as my frenum piercing, that’s for damn sure.” He wriggled his eyebrows as I cocked my head in confusion.

  “What’s a frenum piercing?”

  A wicked grin lit his face as he chuckled deep in his chest. “One day, maybe I’ll tell you.”

  I scowled, resolving to search for an answer on Google once I was back in my dorm tonight.

  “Did you eat dinner?” he asked out of the blue, and I shook my head as my thoughts shifted directions. His playful mood soured instantly. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “Oh, uh, this morning, I guess.” I had eaten breakfast in the mess hall, but I must have forgotten to eat lunch. And now that the sun descended in the sky, I supposed I had missed dinner as well.

  A rather inhuman growl rumbled from his chest, and I leaned away automatically as a fierce fire erupted in his dark eyes. “You haven’t eaten all day? You’re too fucking skinny as it is, and now you’re skipping meals?”

  “I just forgot—”

  He interrupted my excuse. “You can’t forget to eat! That’s not healthy.”

  I flinched at the barked reprimand, and survival instinct had me immediately surrendering, metaphorically baring my neck. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I won’t do it again.”

  If I learned anything from Ms. Janet, it was the power of instant submission. She was strict, but she offered leniency if I apologized and accepted my punishment without argument. The times I attempted to plead my case never worked out well for me. Self-preservation taught me to appease her quickly. It was pure compulsion at this point in my life to roll over and show my belly, and I sighed in relief when his frustration cooled.

  “Riley, hey, I didn’t mean—it’s just, you need to take better care of yourself.” His tone was shockingly gently as he reached to touch me, but at my reactive cringe, he dropped his hand to his thigh. “Hellfire, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  It wasn’t that he scared me. Sure, he looked like a guy who started bar fights for fun, but I was skittish in general when people were upset. Anger was such an ugly emotion when it was allowed free reign, and his aggravation made my stomach ache.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Hey, look at me.” It was an order masked as a request, and I obeyed, my eyes meeting wary ones. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  After a moment, I nodded, and his tense shoulders relaxed. “I’m fine. Sometimes, I just forget to eat ’cause I’m not hungry. I don’t do it on purpose.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He scrubbed a hand through his fauxhawk and blew a heavy breath through pursed lips. “Just forget it, okay?”

  I mumbled agreement as I chewed the inside of my cheek, drumming a staccato rhythm on the book in my lap. “I’m not that skinny,” I snipped a second later, and Jai arched a thick eyebrow.

  “Seriously? If you turned sideways, you’d disappear.”

  I utilized every ounce of self-control to not roll my eyes. “That’s
a bit extreme, and not very kind.”

  “The truth hurts.” That smirk of his returned to his face, and my own irritation sprang to life in my gut.

  “You know what doesn’t hurt? Being polite.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and I clamped a hand over my mouth the moment the words escaped my lips.

  Ms. Janet would have washed my mouth out with soap for speaking like that. It seemed unrealistic to expect someone who was more of a peer than an authority figure to discipline me, but uncertainty remained as his eyes widened. Instead of being offended, Jai threw his head back and laughed.

  “Are you sassing me?”

  A swarm of bees buzzed to life in my veins as a dangerous gleam glinted in his eyes. I shook my head vehemently. “N-no.”

  “Pity,” he crooned with a foxlike grin. “I like your nerve.”

  Nerve? I couldn’t remember one moment in my life when someone could have described me with having nerve, but a hidden place in my heart fluttered with happiness at his words. For some reason, he made me feel brave, a little reckless, strong. I’d never been those things, but I suddenly wished I was.

  A phone chimed, and our intense eye contact broke as he dropped his gaze to his pocket. Fishing out his cellphone, he unlocked the screen and opened his messages. He sighed.

  “It’s my roommate—one of my roommates. I gotta go.” He tucked his phone in his pocket once more before rising and brushing off his jeans. “I’ll see you around, Riles.”

  With a wink and grin, he turned and sauntered off, and I waved pathetically at his retreating back, mumbling a too-soft, “Goodbye.” He didn’t hear me.

  The sun was nearly gone now, the game of flag football long over. I gathered my book and made my way back to my dorm through the twilight, my thoughts revolving around my encounter with Jai. I thought of Noel, too, for some reason, and I wished I was hanging out with either of them tonight. Then I would have a reason not to go to Kayla’s party.

  Kayla and I weren’t even friends, at least, not in my mind. She made me uncomfortable, and not even the promise of Bethany’s presence was enough to tempt me to attend the party. Ms. Janet would be furious if she found out I was even invited to a party. That was incentive enough to steer clear. I had no doubt Kayla would never forgive me, but I couldn’t go. Unfortunately, my inability to say no would make that difficult, but I would take the coward’s way out and simply not show up.