Total pages in book: 39
Estimated words: 36036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
My hands formed fists as I moved toward them, resolved to protect Maggie by whatever means necessary.
Hans’ words halted me. “I’ll never do anything to put you in harm’s way, Margarete. And I’ll die before I allow anyone to hurt you. The only comfort I need is to hold and be held by you because I’m certain the only paradise I’ll ever experience in this life and the next is in your embrace.”
My shoulders relaxed and I filled my lungs with a deep breath. My instincts were good. I needed to trust them. Hans wouldn’t hurt her.
“What if I want more? What if I want my first touch from a man to be filled with love? Does that make me wanton, Hans? Am I sinful to long for more than I was created for?”
My heart ached at the sorrow in her voice and the cruelty of the world forced upon her. It took every ounce of control I could muster not to run to her. To tell her the possibilities were endless for her. I wanted to demand she leave with me so I could show her she didn’t need to abide by the rules of an unjust prison lacking the vision to see the magnitude of her essence. At that moment, I wanted to fall to my knees and beg her to save herself. Beg her to allow me to set her free. But emancipation could not be forced upon the unwilling. Indoctrination ran deep, and even when society worked against those bound to it, there were those who ignored the evidence to cling to a shred of improbable hope.
“What we do or don’t do will always be up to you, Maggie.” Hans lifted his face to the skies before looking at Margarete again. “I wish I could give you more. I don’t want to bring you into the shadows to confess my feelings. I don’t want to go home knowing our time is slowly ticking away. Three years. That’s all that remains for us. I loathe knowing that I will have to watch you marry another.” He grabbed her hands, raising them to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. “Some days, I don’t think I’ll make it. It’s like dying a slow death.”
“Hans,” Maggie whispered, pulling her hands from his and cupping his face. “As long as I breathe, I will love you.”
I glanced away, not wanting to be privy to their tender moment. Not because I felt like an interloper but because I wished she’d utter those words to me. Logically, I knew my desires were convoluted and irrational, but I couldn’t help it. Watching Maggie grow into a beautiful young woman with compassion and kindness had softened the darkest parts of me. Parts that would never belong to anyone but her.
Johannes puffs up his chest and stands in front of Margarete as if trying to shield her from my view.
I’d usually find his chivalry endearing, but it only ignites my ire. “You behaving like a Doberman is cute, especially when we both know you’re nothing more than a scared pup.”
Johannes grits his teeth. “How long have you been watching her?”
Laughter bursts from me as I step toward him, stopping when my chest is flush with his. He flinches but holds his position. I don’t know if he’s standing his ground because of his attraction to me or his need to protect Maggie. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. “Are you jealous because of her or me?”
I know my words are callous. Cruel even. I’m hinting at a secret I have no right to reveal and holding it over Hans’ head. I see the shock in his eyes when they shoot to mine and immediately regret the words summoned by my insecurity and anger.
“What are you talking about?” Margarete asks.
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
Hans closes his eyes and exhales sharply. “It’s not nothing.” He turns to Margarete. “I’ve followed God’s rules and allowed them to control me my whole life.”
Maggie steps in front of Johannes, clasping his hands. “God doesn’t control us. We submit to his rule. He is the one and only creator.”
Her words irritate me—more verbal diarrhea to curb free thinking. Rationally, I know she isn’t to blame for her beliefs. No one is. Thinking outside the box is hard when you’ve lived in an echo chamber repeatedly churning out the same thought processes. Kid gloves are a more productive approach in situations like this, but my emotions get the better of my reason, and my words rush out like a riptide.
“One and only creator, you say. Do you have any idea how many gods exist throughout history? Do you have any notion that the stories you believe to be gospel are copy-paste regurgitation of past tales? Who is to say which version of God is real? The truth is that humans have reconstructed the image of a higher power since the dawn of civilization. There is no such thing as the one and only creator.”