Chapter 3 The Incident That Broke May

He wasn't supposed to be like that.

May had trusted him. Everyone did.

That was the most painful part-how easily the world believed his smile. How smoothly he strung words together about grace, holiness, and honor. How the whole congregation clapped when he spoke. She used to sit on the second row, soaking it all in like warm sunlight on a cold day.

Back then, she believed.

She used to write his sermon points in her journal, highlight verses in purple, and whisper prayers before bed. She was the girl who stayed behind after youth meetings to help pack chairs. The one who sang the loudest during worship and cried quietly when the Spirit moved.

That was before the shadows crept in.

It had started with compliments-subtle, slippery ones.

"You're growing into such a beautiful woman, May."

"Your spirit... it shines."

"God has His hand on you, and so do I."

The first time he said that, she thought it was a mistake. A slip of the tongue. She had laughed nervously and looked away. But the way his eyes lingered too long told her otherwise.

Still, she buried the discomfort. Covered it with the same faith she'd always held onto. After all, he was the pastor. A man of God. Everyone said so.

Including her brother.

Gray loved that man like a father. So May said nothing.

Not when the compliments became touches.

Not when the prayers after service turned into locked doors.

Not even when her breath hitched in fear instead of reverence.

She had been sixteen the first time it happened.

The memory burned like acid behind her ribs.

She'd stayed behind after choir practice. The others had already gone home, laughter echoing down the hallway. He'd asked her to help him move some things in the back office. She remembered thinking how honored she felt that he trusted her.

He closed the door.

And everything changed.

The smile he wore that night wasn't one she recognized. It didn't belong in the house of God. It didn't belong anywhere near her.

She froze. She didn't scream. Her voice had curled into the walls like a scared child and refused to come out.

"Don't cry," he had whispered. "God sees you."

Afterward, he told her it was sacred. That it was between them and God. That he was teaching her obedience, spiritual submission.

May had walked home in silence, her skin crawling, her faith bleeding out somewhere along the cracks in the pavement.

She had showered for an hour. Her mother knocked twice, asking if she was okay.

She had lied.

She got really good at lying after that.

***

Now, sitting backstage in her club's dressing room, May stared at her reflection in the mirror. The music pulsed from outside, bass vibrating through the walls. Her makeup was perfect, lashes curled, lips painted plum red-but she couldn't see herself. Just layers. Just armor.

Lacey walked in, heels clicking. "You're up next. You okay?"

May forced a smirk. "Always."

But her stomach twisted.

Because lately, the memories were getting louder.

Lacey didn't press. She blew a kiss and strutted out. The door shut behind her like punctuation-snapping May back into the present.

She dragged a hand down her face and leaned in closer to the mirror. "You're not that girl anymore," she muttered. "He doesn't get to live in your head rent-free."

But he did.

No matter how many men she took home. No matter how brightly the lights flashed or how much attention she got. Somewhere deep down, she still felt sixteen. Still felt like the girl with shaking knees and silent prayers.

And when people called her wild, broken, a lost cause-she didn't argue.

She felt like one.

***

It had taken one year after the abuse for her to leave the church. Another two for her to tell Gray.

He hadn't believed her at first.

Not because he thought she was lying-no. But because believing meant everything he built his faith on would collapse. He had stared at her, mouth slightly open, eyes full of something between horror and heartbreak.

"I didn't know," he had whispered. "May... I didn't know."

"I didn't expect you to," she'd said flatly. "You were too busy shining his shoes."

His silence that night had been the last nail in her coffin of belief.

She hadn't prayed since.

***

Backstage, her phone buzzed. A message from Gray lit the screen.

"Thinking of you. Hope you're okay. Salmon's in town. You remember him, right?"

May scoffed.

Of course she remembered Salmon Landon. Picture-perfect preacher's kid with perfect white teeth and a perfect life. The boy who used to tease her with scriptures and charm. She had rolled her eyes at him more times than she could count.

Now he was back?

What did he want-her soul too?

She tossed the phone on the counter and stood. Her heels clicked across the floor as she made her way out, music swelling louder with each step.

***

On stage, the lights blinded her, but the attention steadied her like medicine. Applause rose as she moved. She played her part well-confident, flirtatious, untouchable.

But deep down?

She was a broken violin pretending to play a love song.

She could feel eyes on her. Hands clapping. Money waving. Men watching.

She smiled through it all, letting them believe what they wanted. That she was in control. That she didn't care. That nothing had ever touched her soul deep enough to shatter it.

But she knew better.

And she hated the silence that followed every night once the lights dimmed and the laughter stopped.

Because in that silence, his voice returned.

"You're chosen, May. Obedience is holy."

It echoed in her mind like a ghost, twisting everything she once believed in.

***

Later that night, in her apartment, May sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the city lights.

She hadn't cried in months.

Not because it didn't hurt anymore-but because she didn't know if God would listen, even if she did.

What kind of God lets wolves wear collars and call themselves shepherds?

What kind of God lets the good ones suffer and the wicked preach?

May clenched her fists. Her jaw locked.

She had given up asking long ago.

Now, she simply survived.