There weren’t any windows, just four concrete walls. The paint had started chipping off in places, revealing rows of bricks underneath. Pieces had been gouged out like someone had tried to dig their way out. I shoved down the questions surging their way up the back of my throat and focused my attention on the other corner. There was a mattress with a thin blanket tossed on it. No pillow. The only other thing in the cellar was a bucket. I shuddered just thinking about what it might be for. All of this was so gross. I hadn’t expected it to be so disgusting.

None of this was going like I’d imagined, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Suddenly all I wanted to do was sleep. I’d never been so tired. I lay back on the mattress, resting my head on my arms. The mattress was so thin the weight of my body pressed me to the floor. The musty smell of the blanket made me want to gag—a mixture of body odor and urine. Had they forgotten to clean up after the last person had used this place?

I curled up on my side. How had things gone with Scott? Was he mad when Ray told him what I’d done? How did Ray help families outside of the membership understand the importance of discipleship? At least Scott understood commitment and sacrifice, even if he might not agree with what I’d done. Abbi wouldn’t understand anything, but I would sit her down when she was older and explain all of it. She would be proud of me then. I rested my head on my arms, keeping the blanket away from my face, and closed my eyes, too tired to keep them open any longer.

I had no idea how much time had passed since Ray had put me in this room. It could be hours. It might have been days. I didn’t know. There was a small overhead light bulb on at all times, so there was no way to tell if it was day or night. It stayed dim. It didn’t help that it was stifling hot, like being cooked in a microwave. The bucket in the corner was for exactly what I’d thought it was. So far I’d only had to use it once, and there wasn’t any toilet paper. The entire place smelled like urine.

My stomach gnawed at me. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the croissant with my coffee the morning I’d left, and I’d passed being starved a long time ago. Thankfully I’d been prepared for a fast. This part of the journey was familiar, and not eating would make it easier not to have to go to the bathroom.

I paced with built-up tension and energy but couldn’t walk more than a few feet before I had to turn in the other direction. Seven steps to the door and seven steps back. Only five steps across. I’d had moments when the panic almost overtook me, but so far I’d managed to stay in control of my mind.