Our Sacred Bonds

by Kennedy Cannon

“It wasn’t your God that you sought after your sister’s death,” the creature taunted in my ear. “It wasn’t your God that you bled for, and it certainly wasn’t your God that you promised yourself to.”

“Do you know that I am so tired of men asking what women were wearing?”

“Then fight me, if you must,” he said. “Strike me. Scream at me. Beg for mercy. Your God has abandoned this place; the only judgment you have to face is your own.”

“Because the only one allowed to make you bleed is me. Your pain, your pleasure . . . All of it belongs to me, from now until we are dust between the stars.”