THE CALLED
MIAMI, FL – 1983
Trash swirled in the humid breeze as Jack walked the cracked sidewalks of his neighborhood, flanked by his two closest friends. Faded graffiti, flickering streetlights, and the low hum of radios spilling from open windows marked the rhythm of life here.
It was getting late.
Jack glanced at the sky, already washed in twilight. He stopped outside his apartment complex, staring up at the building’s crumbling facade. He lingered, hoping — praying — that his father was already gone.
“Later,” he muttered to his friends.
They parted ways with a wave and disappeared into the night.
Jack climbed the stairs. At the door, he froze. His parents were obviously fighting again.
His mother’s voice rose, pleading. His father’s — slurred, he was drunk. Jack’s stomach knotted.
Lately, it had been worse than ever. His father drank more. Hit harder. And went out every night, but came back every morning.
Why won’t he just leave? Jack clenched his fists. His mother wouldn’t stop him. She wouldn’t save herself. Then I will, he thought.
A scream split the silence. Jack shoved the door open.
His father had his mother by the arm, towering over her — eyes bloodshot, chest heaving with rage.
“You need to leave,” Jack said, his voice low but shaking with fury.
The man turned, slowly releasing his grip. He looked Jack up and down — the boy standing defiant in the doorway.
Then he laughed — a bitter, mocking sound.
“Oh, I see,” he sneered. “Ten years old and thinkin’ you’re a man now?”
His father took a step forward. Then another.
Jack stood his ground. Hatred surged inside him. He could have killed his father right then if he had a weapon. He would’ve. The thought no longer scared him. But he had nothing.
And he knew — somewhere beneath the fury — that he was about to get hit.
His father stepped forward, eyes narrowed, jaw tight with menace.
But then… He stopped and stumbled back.
His eyes widened, startled – as if something unseen had struck him across the face. He stood there, frozen for a moment, swaying awkwardly. No one said a word.
Then, without explanation, he brushed past Jack. Grabbing his keys and jacket from the counter, he walked out the door.
The apartment fell silent.

Later that night, Jack lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. His mind swirled.
How do I get rid of him for good?
He didn’t want to be afraid anymore. He didn’t want to wait for the next outburst, the next bruise. He wanted his father gone — erased. He fantasized about it, letting the thought uncoil without shame.
An unknown voice broke the silence.
“You’d never get away with it.”
Jack jolted upright. His heart pounded.
He looked around the room — empty shadows.
Someone or – rather something, moved.
A figure stepped forward — graceful, poised, radiant in a way Jack couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just the way he stood — tall, still, regal. It was the air around him, like something holy… but wrong.
Not a man. Not really.
“…Are you the devil?” Jack asked, his voice small.
The stranger smiled. “I’m here to help you, son.” His voice was warm. “You’re lost. Hurt. You need direction. I can give you that. I can take care of your problem.”
Jack looked down, mind spinning.
His father had practiced the dark arts. That world wasn’t foreign to him. He knew how it worked. Deals were made. Nothing was free. And the devil didn’t give second chances.
But what if it was worth it?
What if he could finally stop being afraid?
What if he could become powerful — more powerful than his father had ever been?
He wasn’t afraid of hell.
Not anymore.
And if he played this right — if he served the devil well — maybe he would have a status in hell’s kingdom.
At last, Jack spoke.
“I’ll give you my soul,” he said quietly, each word weighted like iron. “I’ll devote my life to you… if you kill my father — And, make me the strongest warlock of my time.”
Lucifer’s smile widened.
He lifted his hand, and from his palm rose a ring — floating, spinning, aglow with power. It was obsidian-black, inscribed with strange, twisting symbols that looked like letters, but not from any earthly language. The markings shimmered in a slow circle, alive with enchantment.
The ring drifted through the air toward Jack, as if drawn to him.
Jack reached out and took it, feeling its unnatural warmth as it settled into his palm. He slid it onto his finger.
Lucifer’s eyes gleamed. “Jezebel will be your mentor,” he said smoothly. “And here are some books to begin your training.”
He gestured to the dresser.
Jack turned — and there, where moments ago it had been bare, sat three books. Old, weathered, ominous.
When he looked back, Lucifer was gone.
Jack walked over to the dresser. He picked up the books and carried them back to his bed, one by one.
• Rites of Lucifer
• The Corpus Hermeticum
• The Book of Forbidden Knowledge
He opened Rites of Lucifer first.
The pages felt smooth under his fingertips, each word whispering ancient truths. His eyes devoured every sentence. He didn’t just read — he absorbed.
He was starving and the book fed him.
He lost track of time, completely consumed by power’s promise — until…
“Jack. Come out here, please.” His mother’s voice broke him out of his trance.
He didn’t know how much time had passed and really didn’t want to stop reading, but something about her voice told him that something was wrong.
He walked down the hall from his room, through the living room, and into the kitchen. His mother sat with the house phone next to her. She had obviously been crying. As she clutched a tissue in her hand.
“I just got a call from your uncle.” She said.
Jack’s breath caught.
“He said your father was gunned down in a drive-by.”
A long silence followed. Grief twisted in her face.
But Jack… Jack pressed his lips into a line, doing everything he could not to smile. He lowered his gaze to the ring around his finger.

COLUMBUS, OHIO – 1986
The baby ward hummed with soft, rhythmic sounds — the gentle cooing of infants.
In one crib, a baby girl had just been placed down, her eyelids fluttering with dreams. She did not stir as the nurse, Stacy, moved past her — distracted, tired — unaware of the three towering figures standing in her path.
She walked within inches of them.
The tallest of the three – radiant and regal – watched her pass with compassion in his eyes. They turned their gaze downward.
Yahshua smiled, warmth glowing across His face. His eyes held galaxies and love in equal measure.
The baby, still asleep, lifted her tiny hand into the air — soft fingers reaching upward in a posture of praise. There was a moment of silence as He watched her hand move up toward Him.
“She has a special purpose,” Yahshua said, touching her tiny hand with his finger. “Her path will be great. Thaddeus will go with you, Ariel. Protect her. Guide her. Encourage her.”
Thaddeus stepped forward, eyes steady, heart stirred.
“Yes, my Lord,” he said.
Yahshua moved his hand and gently touched her forehead. A faint glow appeared — a cross, luminous and golden, shining for a moment before fading into her skin. “Alaina, my precious little rock, she will be a light bringer.”
A demon appeared, clinging like a serpent around Stacy’s neck. It hissed at the holy ones, eyes burning with hate.
Then vanished.
Stacy winced, reaching for the back of her neck and rubbing the tender spot with frustration. Another nurse nearby noticed.
“Your neck acting up again?” Lucille asked.
Stacy sighed and stopped massaging her neck.
“Yeah. Ever since I tried to help a dementia patient last week. He jerked away from me just at the wrong time. I’ve tried everything from icy-hot, compresses, and pain meds… nothing works. It just flares up randomly.”
“Have you tried praying?”
Stacy stiffened slightly. “I… don’t believe in all that stuff,” she said, trying to sound neutral.
“Well, just cause you don’t believe, doesn’t make it not true. What’s the worst that could happen? Nothing?”
Stacy exhaled through her nose – annoyed, but not argumentative. That woman was so Christiany, she thought. She tilted her head, and the sharp pain in her neck flared instantly.
“Alright, fine.” She muttered.
Lucille rose from her chair and walked over with gentle authority.
She placed a hand on Stacy’s shoulder and prayed – bold and unwavering.
“In the name of Jesus, I release this woman, in your name, Lord, touch this woman and show her your Glory! You are the true King, the true Lord, God of gods, stronger than any demon. I pray, release Stacy from her pain, and I thank you for it, in the name of Jesus!”
With each word, Yahshua drew closer.
Stacy felt warmth begin to rise in her body — not heat, but something deeper, vibrant, alive. As Yahshua reached out and laid His hand upon her shoulder, she felt it:
A tingling — a soothing pulse — like gentle waves of energy moving through her neck and spine. Not pain, but healing. Like electric therapy, targeting what had been broken.
The pain had vanished. Her eyes widened. “Wow… It worked.” She said, stunned.

FIVE YEARS LATER…
A modest suburban home stood quietly in the heart of Columbus, Ohio — white siding, a small porch, and a backyard cluttered with signs of childhood.
Inside, in the warmth of a lived-in kitchen, Mrs. White worked over the counter, flattening dough in practiced motions. She stretched each circle of masa between her hands and placed it on a cast-iron skillet, where it sizzled and browned.
The rhythm was comforting – until the kitchen door burst open.
Alaina ran in, tears streaking down her cheeks. Her brothers, Sam and Jacob, followed close behind, trying – and failing – to catch her before she reached their mother.
“Mommy,” Alaina sobbed. “They ate all the candy, and I only got one piece, and now the candy is all gone!”
Mrs. White paused, lips pressed into a tight line.
She didn’t look at Alaina. She was annoyed by crying; it was a form of weakness in her household.
“Quit crying, Alaina!” her mother snapped, turning to look at her. “You’re lucky you got any candy at all! You don’t need it anyway! You wanna get fat?!”
The words hit harder than any slap.
Alaina suppressed the sound, but the tears kept filling up her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. She walked away sadly with her head down.
Around the corner, Sam — her brother — followed.
He’d hung back when their mom lashed out, guilt curling in his stomach. Quietly, he pulled a piece of hard candy from his pocket — something he’d hidden for later. He caught up to Alaina and held it out.
Her face lit up with joy.
She popped the candy into her mouth, smiling wide — and Sam couldn’t help himself. He reached out and tickled her ribs, trying to lift her spirit.
She laughed – that pure, infectious little giggle he loved.
Alaina suddenly widened her eyes and brought her hands to her throat. She had accidentally inhaled the piece of candy and started to choke.
Panic set in, and Sam needed help. “Mom!” he shouted, running back into the kitchen. “Alaina’s choking!”
Alaina followed, stopping at the door and looking at her mom. She was unable to make a sound.
Mrs. White looked at Alaina coldly.
“She’s fine,” she said and turned back to the skillet.
Sam’s voice of protest muffled out as Alaina walked away. Time seemed to slow down, and even her movements felt painfully slow.
Should she have stayed there, begging, pleading for her life to the one who had brought her into this world? Alaina had a pride issue. She could not make sense of her actions or thought process, but she would rather die than stand in front of her mother weak and vulnerable.
Especially, someone who didn’t seem to love her. She was going to die, and her mother didn’t care.
She started to feel like she was floating. Peace washed over her. She continued to move one foot in front of the other; she was going to her hiding spot. They would find her there, and her mother would know that this was on her hands.

2002 – CHURCH SERVICE
Alaina sat alone, stiff in her chair, while the congregation mingled around her. The air smelled faintly of coffee and perfume. Smiles bloomed easily on other faces — warm handshakes, quick hugs, casual laughter.
Across the room, kids her age clustered together, her older brothers, among them. She sometimes joined them, but Jacob, just eleven months older, never liked sharing his friends. For two months out of the year, they were the same age, but still worlds apart. He glared at her anytime she tried to join and said rude and embarrassing things about her to the group.
Alaina kept her hands in her lap, holding onto a sermon pamphlet. Trying not to look as out of place as she felt. She wasn’t bubbly like the others. Their cheerfulness felt… practiced. She didn’t want to fake it. Still, she wanted to belong. She wanted to be part of something real.
There was a mission trip to Mexico coming up. Maybe this was her chance. She already went to Youth Group, and her brothers were going. Maybe if she signed up, she could finally be part of something bigger.
She spotted the Youth Pastor, chatting in a lively group. Gathering her courage, she approached. She hovered at his side, waiting for a pause, but no one acknowledged her. The conversation flowed easily without her, a circle she was outside of in every way. The choir began to sing, and as if on cue, the group broke apart to find seats.
Seizing the moment before he could disappear again, she blurted, “Pastor Eric, can I go to the Mexico mission trip?”
He looked at her with polite surprise. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Alaina. We’re sending youth who are more involved in the church… and I’m not sure you’d do well in ministry.”
The words stung, but she forced a small smile. “I understand.” She replied.
She found an empty chair, looking over at her peers, her brothers among them, who were always front and center in ministry.
The service moved forward in a blur — songs, announcements, laughter, clapping. Some of Alaina’s peers wept loudly at the altar, and their friends gathered close to comfort them. Testimonies followed: people raised in the church, sharing their trials and victories.
Then a woman stepped up. She spoke of God’s goodness, and tears streamed down her cheeks — not from guilt or shame, but from pure gratitude. She had been saved from an addiction, and her joy could not be contained. She smiled through the sobs, unashamed.
Alaina leaned forward. Something in her chest shifted.
She realized she had never cried like that, not out of joy. She had cried silent tears of loneliness, frustration, and depression. But never because her heart was so full it overflowed.
A realization, so profound that she had attended church her whole life. God, I don’t love you. I know about you, I hear about you… But I don’t actually know you.
Alaina was amazed at this truth. She kept watching the woman, whose love for God was so real it radiated from her. No performance, no pretense — just honest affection.
A longing rose in Alaina’s chest, aching and raw. God, help me to love you the way this woman loves you, she prayed silently. Even if I have to go through hardship like hers to know you.

2009 – 7 YEARS LATER
Alaina’s apartment was small but cozy — 725 square feet tucked into the edge of a military town. It had personality, stitched together by her memories and mementos: a Mardi Gras mask from New Orleans, mismatched shot glasses from various states, and an ornate oriental dagger — a gift from a long-gone friend.
A blue-eyed Siamese cat, Asia, lounged in a sunspot near the window, tail flicking lazily.
Most of the furniture had come from other service members — hand-me-downs passed on before deployment. A crooked coffee table. A sagging loveseat. It wasn’t much, but it was hers.
Alaina’s long brown hair spread across her pillow. Her skin was tanned from the time lying out under the Florida sun, causing her freckles to darken. One freckle in the shape of a heart showed on her left cheek, like a beauty mark.
She lay sprawled out on her bed, the light spilled in through closed blinds. Alaina slowly woke up, blinking and feeling the immediate ramifications of drinking from the night before. Her head throbbed — too much to drink, too little sleep.
Her phone buzzed sharply.
She groaned and blinked at the screen.
2:43 PM. Saturday.
A text from Aubrie lit up the screen: “Hey, are you coming? We’re leaving at 3!”
Alaina bolted upright. “Crap.”
She hadn’t packed yet.
Stumbling to the bathroom, still groggy and dehydrated, she splashed water on her face, then scrambled to her dresser. She grabbed an outfit for the club — something bold — and something to sleep in.
Just as she zipped her bag shut, a knock hit the door.
“Alaina!” Aubrie’s voice called cheerfully from the other side.
Alaina opened it with an apologetic grin.
“Hey — sorry I didn’t text, but I’m ready.”
Aubrie gave her a knowing look.
“Still hungover?” she asked, teasing.
“Yeah,” Alaina groaned, grabbing her bag. “I need some juice or something. Can we stop at McDonald’s on the way?”
Aubrie grinned. “Girl, obviously.”
Alaina shut the door behind her.

ATLANTA, GA
New Year’s Eve
Savage – “Swing” blared through the packed club, pulsing through bodies like a heartbeat. The night was warm and electric. Music, movement, and anticipation filled the air.
The place was decked out in full New Year’s decor — gold streamers, LED countdown clocks, fake snow machines spraying bursts of glitter. The crowd was thick, bodies brushing past one another, making it hard to move.
Alaina gripped Aubrie’s hand tightly as they wove their way through the throng, laughing as they squeezed past dancers.
“Where’s Philip?” Alaina shouted over the music.
“There!” Aubrie pointed.
They spotted him at the bar — waving — with three tumblers of clear liquid next to him.
Philip handed Alaina one of the tumblers.
“What drink is this?” She asked.
“Gin”
Alaina smelled it and made a face. “It smells like an alcohol pad from the hospital. And this is not a shot… It’s a tumbler.” She complained.
Philip just smiled and winked. “Happy New Year!”
Philip and Aubrie downed their drink. Alaina looked at hers, disappointed.
She took a couple of gulps. The glass was cold, but the liquid was hot going down her throat. She stopped to take a breath. But her breath felt like hot air coming out.
She downed the rest. When she finally finished. Aubrie and Philip were already done and smiling at her.
“I am not hanging with you two anymore!” Alaina yelled over the blaring music.
Aubrie grabbed Alaina’s hand and led her to the dance floor. Behind them, Philip watched Alaina disappear into the crowd — then turned back to the bar and ordered another drink.
As Alaina moved through the crowd, she could feel someone touch her butt. Then a man grabbed her hand. She looked at him. He was trying to get her to dance with him. But she didn’t want to, and she didn’t appreciate being grabbed.
She looked him dead in the eye, shook her head, and yanked her hand free.
Then continued to follow Aubrie, who had already found a circle of women dancing in the center of the floor. Alaina melted into the group, letting the music distract her.
Song after song blurred together.
The gin started to work its way through her system, her limbs loose and heavy, her vision hazy around the edges. She looked over and saw Aubrie dancing close with another woman – laughing, totally in her element.
Not wanting to interrupt their fun, Alaina made her way back to Philip.
She found him leaning against the bar, half-watching the crowd, half-scrolling his phone.
“I think I’m done for the night,” she said, trying to sound steady. “Can you take me back to the hotel?”
Philip glanced toward the dance floor, where Aubrie was still fully immersed in the moment.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Let me just tell her. She’s probably not ready to leave yet.”
Alaina nodded, keeping her back straight, willing her body to look less drunk than it felt.
Time dragged.
It felt like forever, but Philip finally came back, “Okay, let’s go!” He took her hand and they moved through the crowd again, but in the opposite direction from the dance floor.

Philip pulled into the hotel parking lot, shifting the car into park. He cut the engine and stepped out, walking around to help Alaina from her seat.
“Thanks for taking me,” Alaina murmured. “I think I’m just going to watch a movie or something… and call it a night.”
She didn’t want to admit she felt awful — nauseous, dizzy. The gin had hit her harder than she expected.
They reached her door, and she fumbled briefly with the key card.
Philip leaned in, smiling. “I’ll watch the movie with you.”
Alaina gave a polite laugh. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. It’s New Year’s — you should go back and celebrate.”
Alaina opened her door.
Philip laughed a little and walked past Alaina into her room. “I’m kind of beat, it will be nice to just relax.” He said.
“You know what…” she started, trying to sound casual. “I think I’m just going to crash. You should go — really. I’ll be boring company.”
Philip moved toward her, grinning, and kissed her.
Alaina tensed and pulled away.
“Oh — Philip, I’m really not in the mood. Honestly, I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”
She pushed past him and rushed into the bathroom — barely making it to the toilet before the sickness overtook her.
The gin roared back up like fire. She vomited again and again, her body purging what felt like poison. She stayed there on the tile floor, gripping the toilet, breathing hard.
Finally, after rinsing her mouth and splashing water on her face, she steadied herself and stepped out.
Philip was still there.
He approached — and kissed her again.
Alaina froze.
She pushed him back, her voice rising.
“Are you drunk? I just threw up! Doesn’t that gross you out?”
But Philip didn’t stop. He stepped toward her again — his hands on her waist, lips brushing her neck.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“I don’t care.”
“Really, though — I mean it,” Alaina said, her voice tighter now. “I’m not in the mood.”
She tried to push Philip back — but he didn’t budge.
Instead, he picked her up and put her on the bed.
A thought entered Alaina’s mind.
Just let it happen…
For a moment, she relaxed in defeat.
But another voice interjected. Her mother’s voice, telling her about her own childhood. “My step-father raped me, even when I left the home, men tried to rape me.” Her mother’s voice was like a burning flame of hatred towards the injustice that some people encountered.
A rage surged through Alaina. “I said NO!”
Alaina sat up so quickly that her forehead struck Philip in the face.
As if she meant to headbutt him. He crumbled backwards onto the floor, shocked. He painfully touched his nose and looked up at Alaina, who was on her feet, glaring down at him.
“Maybe I should go…” Philip said weakly.
“I think that’s a good idea.” She said, her voice low and steady.
He got up and left quickly. Alaina locked the door behind him and then stumbled back toward her bed. She was going to pass out, but first…
She suddenly changed direction toward the bathroom and vomited again.

A sharp beam of sunlight pierced through the gap in the curtains — landing directly across Alaina’s face.
She groaned and lifted a hand to shield her eyes.
Her head throbbed.
She gently touched her forehead. “Ow…”
Before she could fully sit up, a knock sounded at the door.
Alaina moved slowly — every step deliberate, careful not to upset her hangover any more than necessary.
She opened the door to find Aubrie, bright-eyed and smiling like she hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol the night before.
“Hey! What happened to you last night? Did the gin get you?” Aubrie asked.
Alaina squinted at her, annoyed by how chipper she sounded.
“Have you seen Philip?” Aubrie didn’t wait for an answer to the first question. She casually glanced past Alaina into the room.
“No,” Alaina said quickly. “I figured he went back to the club.”
She kept her tone light — controlled.
She didn’t want to talk about it.
Aubrie checked her phone. “Hmm… maybe he crashed at my cousin’s place. Anyway, I decided to stay in Atlanta for a few more days.”
Alaina’s expression faltered slightly.
Aubrie didn’t notice. She motioned toward the car behind her, where the woman she’d been dancing with the night before was waiting.
“So when we find Philip,” Aubrie added, “you can just ride back with him.”
Alaina’s stomach sank.
She tried to keep her face neutral. “How are you getting back?”
“Oh, I’ll ride with Savannah,” Aubrie said, nodding toward the woman in the car. “She’s going through Pensacola to get to New Orleans anyway.”
She turned back toward the vehicle, already in motion. “Grab your stuff! Savannah’s taking us to my cousin’s house.”
Alaina closed the door slowly and leaned against it for a second.
A three-hour ride with Philip.
Great.
She sighed and went to collect her things.
Philip was already at his cousin’s house when they arrived — sitting on the edge of the couch, sulking, eyes glued to the floor.
He didn’t look at Alaina.
She noticed a faint purple knot forming on the bridge of his nose.
For a second, she felt nothing.
Then — a thought came to her out of nowhere.
You should read your Bible.
It came with such clarity.
She blinked. Maybe later. She thought.
She hugged Aubrie goodbye. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend with Savannah.”
“See you in three days,” Aubrie smiled. “You sure you got everything?”
Alaina glanced at her small bag and purse. “All set.”
The ride back to Pensacola was quiet — awkward, thick with unspoken tension. Philip didn’t try to speak, and Alaina didn’t volunteer anything. She stared out the window, counting trees, streetlights, distractions.
About halfway through, Philip pulled off the highway and stopped at a gas station.
He got out without saying a word.
Alaina realized she hadn’t eaten all day. Her stomach grumbled, and she reached for her purse.
She unzipped it casually… then paused.
Her wallet wasn’t there.
She frowned, then checked again — deeper this time.
Nothing.
A sudden heat crept into her cheeks as her fingers tore through every pocket.
She yanked open her other bag and searched again. Still nothing.
No. No, no, no…
Philip slid back into the driver’s seat, smelling faintly of gasoline.
“I can’t find my wallet,” Alaina said, her voice thin. “I think… I think it’s still in Atlanta.”
A look of surprise came onto Philip’s face. “That sucks.”
“We need to go back. I can’t go home without my wallet.”
“We are not driving 2 hours back to Atlanta!”
“But I won’t have an ID or money when we get back home!”
“Well, I can call Aubrie and see if she can find it and bring it back with her,” Philip suggested.
“She’s not coming back for another 3 days! What am I supposed to do with no money?” Alaina was almost pleading.
“Sorry, Alaina. It’s too much out of the way.” His tone was final. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”
Her stomach dropped.
She stared at him, disappointed but not surprised.
Would he have turned around if I’d slept with him? She wondered bitterly. Probably not.
This is exactly why she always preferred to drive herself. She looked over at the purple bruise still blooming on his nose.
Should’ve given you a black eye too, she thought, jaw tight.
Philip reached up and unconsciously touched the spot — almost as if he’d heard her.

The rest of the drive passed in strained silence, broken only by the music Philip turned up to avoid conversation.
Alaina stared out the window as the streets of home grew more familiar. Her mind turned over her new reality: No ID. No cash. No drinks.
Philip pulled into the lot outside their apartment complex and parked.
He waited silently as she grabbed her things, then locked the car behind her.
Without a word, he turned and headed toward his unit on the ground floor.
Alaina climbed the stairs to the second floor.
Back in her flat, Alaina dropped her bag and checked Asia’s food and water first.
Asia greeted her moews and brushed up against her legs. She gave her some quick pets. Satisfied, Asia went back to lounging, and Alaina walked to the fridge and opened it.
Condiments. Eggs. A jar of pickles.
You should read your Bible. The words came up like a thought, but not in Alaina’s voice.
Was God talking to her?
Still, the thought of reading her bible did not appeal to her in any way. The Bible was Boring. Confusing. Judgmental.
She slammed the fridge shut.
“No.” She whispered. “Not tonight.”
Maybe James would know where the party was. She could get free alcohol, maybe snacks.
James lived 15 minutes away if she walked, but she always took the car to make it a one-minute trip.

She parked the car and walked into his apartment without knocking. He never locked his door for some reason.
James was a very handsome, physically fit guy, with a resemblance to Brad Pitt.
He looked up from ironing his shirt, surprised at her sudden visit.
“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Alaina asked. “And do you have any food? I’m hungry.”
James smirked. “Yeah, I got some snacks. Going to the club later with Loui and Nick.”
Alaina opened his pantry and found a sleeve of Oreos.
“Oh,” she said, already popping one in her mouth.
James smiled while he ironed. “Why, what’s up?”
“I accidentally left my wallet in Atlanta,” Alaina said, chewing on her fourth cookie. “So I have no ID to get into anywhere… and no money for drinks.”
James chuckled. “Wow, that sucks.”
He sounded more amused than sympathetic.
Alaina rolled her eyes and opened his fridge. She found some juice and poured herself a glass. “Yeah… I was hoping there was a pre-party or after-party somewhere tonight?”
James shook his head. “Nah, everyone’s going out. It’s a four-day holiday — so the plan is to find strangers to kiss. But hey, maybe I’ll make an exception and swing by after the club.”
Alaina stared at him flatly. Then downed the rest of the juice.
She rinsed the glass and set it in the sink. “Yeah… I think walking in on you in bed with another girl ruined that whole sexual tension thing for me.”
James winced. “I told you, nothing happened.”
Alaina laughed. “Right, she was just sleeping in your bed, wearing nothing but your T-shirt. Completely innocent!”
She could feel her anger rising.
“You know what?” she snapped. “Forget it. I don’t want to talk about it. I was just looking for a party.”
She walked out before he could respond.

Alaina drove back to her apartment and walked back upstairs to her place.
She dropped her bag by the door and sank onto the couch. The quiet hit her immediately. Too quiet…
That kind of silence she hated — the kind that brought memories back like broken records on repeat.
Pain. Embarrassment. Regret. Loneliness.
Why couldn’t she remember anything good? Why did the bad always echo louder?
She stared at the ceiling, wishing she could turn her thoughts off like a switch.
You should read your Bible.
The words came again — crisp, clear, and intrusive.
A low growl nearly escaped Alaina’s throat.
“Ugh, I don’t want to!” she snapped into the empty room.
She stood up and started pacing.
There had to be something else — anything else — to distract her.
“I could drive back to Atlanta,” she muttered. Her wallet couldn’t have been stolen. The hotel room was cleared, and the only other place I had been to was Aubrie’s cousin’s house.
She paused, trying to weigh the 4-hour trip in her head, without gas money.
Or maybe she didn’t have to go that far.
She could just hit the beach. Pensacola was always crawling with military guys. Loud music. Free drinks.
Determined, Alaina grabbed her purse and keys, walked out the door, and climbed into her car.
She turned the key. Nothing happened.
Her brow furrowed. Alaina turned the key repeatedly.
Did I leave the headlights on? No, it was on automatic, as always. It hadn’t even been 5 minutes since she last used her car, and there were no signs of trouble.
Yahshua sat next to the frustrated Alaina, as she repeatedly tried over and over again to make her car start.
“How can this be? I didn’t leave the light on; it’s daytime,” she said out of exasperation.
“You should really read your bible,” Yahshua said nicely.
Alaina couldn’t see him next to her, but she heard him. She wanted to cry, but started to laugh as if she was possibly having a psychotic break.
She leaned forward and put her forehead on the steering wheel.
At first, she felt anger, but as she thought more about it. If God was trying to get my attention, then why? He knew by doing these things, I was going to be angry. But did He love me that much that He would go out of His way just to stop me from avoiding Him?
“You love me this much that you are willing for me to hate you?” Alaina asked.
She shook her head, “Okay, I’m going to read my bible before you burn my apartment down, too.” She said half jokingly.
Yahshua laughed and watched as she got out of her car and went into her apartment to read her bible.
“You are tougher than you give yourself credit for.” He whispered.
He didn’t enjoy using these kinds of methods. But Alaina was stubborn — fiery, wounded, angry. And if she kept going the way she was going… she would destroy herself.
He knew just how much pressure to allow — not to punish, but to wake her up.
To get her to notice Him, and now she had.