Free The Dark Light by Julia Bell

all night I dream that I am locked in a cellar, running around alone in the dark in a panic because everyone has gone and I have been left behind.

EIGHT
    ALEX
    I woke with the dawn barely edging the curtains, wide awake, damp. I’d hardly slept all night, thinking, planning how I was going to get my hands on that satellite phone. I fell asleep dreaming about it. I wanted to go back and I didn’t care if they pressed charges. There was something off about the whole place that made it hard to breathe. The way those boys looked, dirty and disorientated. That woman Mary said it was to keep them safe, but I didn’t believe her; someone had given them something to keep them quiet.
    I turned over and looked at Rebekah, who was sleeping on her back, one arm flung above her head, her mouth moving gently with the rhythm of her breath. She was so innocent it was dangerous. Anything could happen to her. I wanted to take her away from here. Someone needed to know what was going on. None of it was right.
    There was noise downstairs, pans and plates being moved around in the kitchen, the sound of voices. Then feet on the stairs, and there was someone, Mary, standing in the doorway. Her face was pinched, weathered, her shoulders stooped like someone who has spent a long time carrying something very heavy.
    ‘You’re not supposed to be sleeping there!’ was the first thing she said.
    I opened my eyes and stared at her. ‘Well, where else was I supposed to sleep?’ I said, but she didn’t answer.
    Next to me Rebekah moved, stretching and groaning.
    ‘Come on.’ Mary came over and pulled the covers off us. ‘Up.’
    ‘Fuck off,’ I muttered, before I could stop myself.
    The temperature of the room dropped. Rebekah flinched, then jumped out of bed.
    ‘And we’ll have none of that language here, thank you.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘God is listening.’
    ‘Oh fucking fuck off,’ I said, even louder. Like God would have the time and the inclination to be personally offended by me. God, if He existed, never listened to my prayers. I’d figured that out a long time ago.
    ‘ Please .’ Rebekah covered her ears.
    Mary stared at me hard. ‘ Downstairs . Two minutes.’ She wasn’t asking.
    When she’d gone to wake the twins, Rebekah looked at me reproachfully. ‘Don’t swear,’ she hissed. ‘That word is one of the worst things you can say. When Jonathan was possessed by demons he started saying it all the time, until he was cleansed by a night of prayer. Mr Bevins strictly forbids it.’
    ‘Oh fuck off,’ I said again, just to be spiteful. ‘I fucking hate this place, and she’s a complete Nazi. I mean, why is she getting all uppity about where we sleep?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I think I was supposed to make up the camp bed for you.’
    Seriously, I had to get out of there as soon as possible. It would be very easy to just start screaming or something, I felt so tense. I reached about the bed and started collecting my clothes. I’d taken my jeans and sweatshirt off in the night.
    ‘Here.’ She held out a plain black dress.
    ‘I’m not wearing that .’ I sat up. ‘Are you mad?’
    ‘But we’re commanded to be modest ,’ she said, almost whining.
    I ignored her and pulled the blanket around my shoulders like a cloak. ‘But I’m a visitor, aren’t I? Surely there are different rules for visitors?’
    ‘But you can’t wear those –’ she nodded at my clothes – ‘the whole time you’re here! They’re dirty.’
    I got out of bed and shook out my jeans, which were stiff with salt from the boat. I was aware that she was staring at me.
    ‘What’s that?’ She pointed to my ankle, where I had another tattoo.
    ‘Eye of Horus. Supposed to be for protection. Like in ancient Egypt.’
    ‘Protection from what?’
    ‘Evil spirits, bad people, that kind of thing.’ I pulled on my jeans, covering it up.
    I’d had this boyfriend who wanted to be a tattoo artist. He wanted to give me this whole back