Rehabilitation: Romantic Dystopian (Unbelief Series Book 1) by C.B. Stone Page A

calls down, “Don’t fall asleep.”
    “Who are you? Hello?!” It’s a relief to hear someone else’s voice and I try to call out to whoever it is again, but I get no response. Whoever it was has already gone.
    Cold, tired, and feeling more afraid than I’ve ever felt, I stay standing this time, staring up at the opening. That’s when I notice the light has begun to return. It’s morning. I’m at least partially relieved, hoping the sun seeping into the hole’s opening will warm things up a bit.
    It doesn’t.
    I remain freezing all day, because though the light comes about halfway down the hole, it never actually reaches the bottom. It doesn’t even reach the top of my head. I hold myself tighter, and wait some more.
    I wait to hear from someone, anyone, but there’s only silence.
    I wait until I see the sun drop from the sky again.
    I wait until my stomach growls and I start to think maybe it was a mistake I ever came here. I feel tears well up, and blink them back, my anger creating a lump in my throat that feels as if it’s choking me.
    “What was I thinking?” I ask to myself.
    I had been thinking Jacob needed my help and that somehow I could save him. How stupid had I been? Miriam had told me this was the only way, but what did she know? Sure she had been here, but had she been here ? In this hole? Watching the sun as it never reached her, waiting as her clothing soaked through and then turned into ice she had to shake off?
    No, no she would have told me about that. But she didn’t. Because she didn’t care. She let me come here knowing how bad it was, knowing I would be put through hell, and for what? How could she do this to me?
    I spent the rest of the night raging against Miriam, needing someone on which to place blame—and more than that needing to stay awake. By morning though, I’ve moved on. Now, I’m wondering how she ever survived a place like this. Poor, little, haunted Miriam. So fragile.
    Who would do something so horrible to someone so gentle?
    “The Elite,” I mutter out loud to myself. “And for what? Because you thought she believed in something you don’t?”
    My voice echoing back is the only response I get.
    “That’s just stupid,” I continue, getting angry now. “Everything’s stupid. It’s stupid she was here, it’s stupid that I’m here, and it’s stupid Jacob’s here. For what? For nothing !” It is nothing. All this Believing stuff? It’s nonsense. Utter nonsense, because if there was truly a God out there, would He let this stuff happen to people? Would He just look down on us and wave, saying, “Gee, that all looks swell to me”?
    No. He wouldn’t. Unless he’s not a very good God. If he just likes people to suffer maybe, then sure. But the way Jacob talks about Him? That’s just pure and complete nonsense. There’s no great Creator out there who loves all of us like His children. Fathers don’t make their children suffer.
    He isn’t real. He isn’t real . “He isn’t real!” I yell out to the well, screaming as loud as I can.
    My voice echoes several times, traveling up and up, and then it fades. I’m left in silence. I didn’t realize, but as my hands reach up to touch my cheeks, I feel the tears that welled earlier have spilled and I’m crying.
    “How come you won’t save me?” I whisper, staring up at the hole. “Am I a bad person?” Obviously Jacob has had more of an effect on me than I’ve realized, because I never would have asked the question if not for him.
    And I don’t expect an answer. No one’s listening, I know, but I have to ask anyway, because of Jacob. I have to know .
    That’s why it surprises me so much when a rope drops down right beside me. I stare at it for a long moment, then my eyes follow it up. It’s dark outside again, so I can’t see much, but I think a shadow is leaning over the hole.
    “Climb,” comes the single word drifting down to my ears.  

XIII

    I hear it again, and give my head a tiny shake,