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Chapter Text

Church is a process. Walk in early. Find seats in the front row, her mother on her left and her father on the right. Sing two gospel songs. Silently confess sins and then be blessed with forgiveness. Read a passage from the pink Bible in her hands. Listen to the sermon. Write notes with different colored gel pens. Pray again, this time for loved ones and non-believers. Sing two more songs. Sit down, bow her head, pray all together this time, with the Apostles Creed.

“Marrige is between a man and a woman. The job of a good wife is to submit to her husband and to trust him to lead you and your family to God.”

“Praise the Lord for His kindness and sovereignty over us all.”

“May the Lord be kind and giving with our finances, and may you return them back to the church through your tithes and offerings.”

“Peace of Christ be with you.”

“Girls, look for a good man in your life. One that you believe will lead you to a healthy life with the Lord and provide for you.”

“May the Lord bless you and keep you.”

“This is the Word of the Lord.”

“Thanks be to God.”

“Amen.”

The entire church recites in unison and Grace opens her eyes, looking around with a gentle smile.

After their service, she and her parents serve, helping greet newcomers to their church, offering prayer sessions and community group invitations. Grace talks to younger children about the sermons, silently reminiscing on the fact that she is the only high schooler who remains going to church after all this time. Still, she smiles and reads them passages when they ask, and prays with them as their parents talk to her parents. They listen with wide eyes as they slowly understand the Word, before promising to keep up with prayer and reading the Bible at home.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” Two of her students, six and seven-year-old girls, smile up at her, in their matching lemon-colored dresses, and tight black braids. They recite the verse in unison, proudly waiting for Grace to speak.

“And what verse is that?” she asks, encouragingly.

“John 3:16.”

Grace claps her hands and nods, proudly. The two girls giggle with excitement, giving each other looks.

“Great job girls. I’ll see you next week,” she promises, handing back the small bibles to them, “and I can’t wait for you to show me what verse you’ve memorized yet.”

She straightens up and fixes her dress, smiling up at her parents who nod with approval. Her mother has an arm wrapped around her husband, a picture of the perfect Christian couple.

The Chasity family begins the walk back to their car, with Grace between her two parents. When they’re safely in motion, buckled in and driving home as the sun begins to set, they fall into the familiar Sunday patterns as always. It’s always the same.

“Now, Grace, what do you have to thank God for, this week?” her mother asks.

It’s a ritual that they’ve put together throughout Grace’s entire life and she settles into the routine, adjusting her navy blue dress as she sits up in the backseat. Her dad glances back at her through the rearview mirror, smiling back at his daughter.

“School is going well and I’m teaching my friends about God,” she replies, lifting her chin with a smile. “I’m sure that I can convince one of them to show up to church soon. They’re starting to listen more and more when I talk to them. He’s also blessed me with the freedom to share and speak His word into the world.”

“Very good, Grace. Keep up your good work,” her father continues as he drives them along the winding road. “Remember your place this year. You’re a child of God. Don’t give in to the foolish temptations like the other kids your age.”

She takes the words and feels them engrave their way into her soul. Grace forces a nod as she settles into the backseat, trying to ignore the way her heart seems to pick up a little more at the thoughts that she buries in the back of her mind: Stephanie Lauter.

Something is going wrong with Grace. She can feel something horrifically wrong with herself, set deep within her bones. It feels heavier than sin and darker than the deepest pits of Hell she can imagine. It’s a pounding in her heart that beats at an uncanny, fast pace. It’s the way that her eyes can’t stop wandering back to Steph’s day-by-day. It’s how, like never before, she wants someone.

All of her life, Grace has been the pure, sweet girl that she’s supposed to. She’s never had a crush on a boy, never had the desire to go after one, never cared about all the remarks made by the boys at school, and it’s always been alright because that’s God’s will for her. It’s her job to be clean until marriage. But the way that Steph smiles, a rare but true grin, or she rolls her eyes good-naturedly or she just looks at her, makes Grace weak in the knees, sending her heart fluttering in a way it shouldn’t.

No, no, this isn't right. As a child of God, it’s her job to walk a clean path, without any contact from men until marriage, and certainly no relationships with women. She has to grow up and marry a man and stay at home and have kids, just like her mother. Just like the church says. Just like their sermon today said.

And still… She doesn’t know how to make these feelings stop. It’s entirely uncomfortable and the path of sin, away from righteousness, seems to pull her in a way that she struggles to deny. After years and years of following the rules, falling into line, putting her full faith into her daily life, everything feels uprooted by a single girl. The popular girl of the school, the Mayor’s daughter, everything that Grace has done her best to avoid and yet, there are strings of desire that draws her in as if Satan himself has her on a string and keeps tugging her off her path.

Grace has gone to God but comes up without a reply, which is fair because her Lord is busy of course. She isn’t sure how to broach the topic with her parents because, as loving as they are, it’s something she doesn’t know how to bring up.

Her father pulls the car into the driveway and Grace bounds out, giving her mother a smile as she walks back into her house. The weight of her thoughts seem to drag her as she considers her choices. Part of her reminds her of the dangerous waters that she’s beginning to tread through and she has to swallow the incorrect feelings. She’s not supposed to be feeling this and she isn’t allowed to be feeling it either.

“Grace, why don’t you head up to your room and work on your devotionals, sunshine?” her father says and she perks back up into a smile. “We’ll call you down when dinner’s ready.”

“Sure, daddy.”

“I’m proud of you, Gracie.”

The words burrow into her skin and take root there, tucked between every ”good girl” and other praise that she’s been given. With a slight skip in her step, Grace heads up to her room and takes out her supplies from her desk. A bubblegum pink Bible, a pale pink notebook, and pens and highlighters for writing. She flips through the pages of her notebook until she finds the first blank page.

In a familiar fashion to each and every Sunday, Grace opens her Bible to the verses they covered in Church this week and begins to write down the notes from today’s sermon. As she writes, her mind begins to wander away from the pages and into what they’ve learned today.

Today’s sermon was about marriage and the expectation of what it should be. Married in front of God, in the Church, between a man and a woman, and the expectation of the relationship. Men should provide, women should take care of the household and children, and how those values have shifted, slightly, for the modern day. But many things stay, like the expectations of purity, the importance to protect it, and the rules for marriage.

Grace has imagined her wedding time and time again. It’s a perfect, blissful scene in a pure white, modest wedding dress. Her dad walks her down the aisle with pink petals beneath her heels. They float down the aisle, a bouquet of pastel pink and blue flowers in her hands as she looks forward and-

A pit opens up at the back of her throat, threatening to swallow her whole. Warped images shift through her mind, sinful and greedy. Steph in a wedding dress next to her, dark lipstick painted onto her lips, that would sink against hers, sweet and lively and perfect in a way that she can’t explain. The two of them, holding hands, soft kisses, Steph’s hands in her hair, Grace’s eyes unable to leave Steph’s. It’s completely wrong and perfectly right and sinful to a degree that she cannot stand.

Grace bolts to her feet, a soft smile ripped off her face and replaced with a gaping look of horror as her heart sinks deep into her stomach. She can’t even do her Bible study correctly? Deep in her fear, Grace is aware that her fingers are trembling and her breathing is messy as she runs a shaking hand through her hair, swallowing hard.

This is wrong. This is so, so wrong.

It’s this pang of want, this desperate desire, to be seen and loved but in a way that she knows her friend to be. In her entire life, Grace has never wanted love so desperately but this is Pandora’s Box: one image slipped through the cracks and now she can feel her entire mind begging to be freed. She wants. Grace hungers for care, unable to satiate herself at her Lord’s table.

Backing away from her desk, she lets out a slow breath, trying to erase the image of Steph in a gorgeous wedding dress at the end of the aisle that Grace has walked down, but it won’t vanish from her mind. It sits there, vividly clear at the forefront of her imagination. Stephanie Lauter, the mayor’s daughter, the popular girl, the one who is everything that Grace is not.

“Grace!”

Her own name shatters the illusion in her mind and she blinks, trying to regain her composure.

“Yes?”

“Dinner!”

It takes a moment, before Grace hesitantly begins down the stairs to meet her parents at the table. Her mother smiles at her and she manages to return a slightly shaken grin in return. They begin dinner, quietly passing around plates of pasta as she hesitantly fumbles a question for her parents in her mind. When her courage strikes and her confidence swells enough, she asks.

“Mom? Dad? When did you know that you loved each other?”

“Gracie, where is this question coming from?” her mom asks, looking carefully at her daughter, and she shrugs, not wanting to lie and settling for the second half of her question.

“I was just wondering how you knew that it was really love and that God approved of it.”

“Well, God brought us together, of course,” her father replies, comfortably. “He allowed us to meet through church and we began to date the first year out of high school.”

“You believe God chose the two of you to be in love?”

“He’s in charge of everything, Grace. If He wanted us to marry other people, then He would’ve made it that way.”

“And you’ve never loved anyone else?”

“Of course not,” her mother dismisses and her dad follows with a hasty nod. “That isn’t how the heart works. God decided that we were right for each other and He never let us stray from that path.”

There’s another question bubbling in her chest but she’s far too scared to ask about what happens with gay people and God- not that Grace Chasity is gay. This is simply a mistake, a glitch in the system, not how she actually is. She’s clean. She’s pure. She’s good.

“Yeah, of course,” she recites, pressing a smile to her face. “That makes sense.”

The Chasity family falls into silence over their meal once more as Grace does her best to make sense of her thoughts, all by herself. Throughout dinner, finishing her homework and devotionals (without any further wandering thoughts) and then getting ready for bed, Grace makes sure to keep her mind pure. That’s her job. That’s her duty as a daughter of God.

Before bed, Grace kneels on her carpet, folding her hands in front of her and bowing her head, her lips moving in quiet prayer as she murmurs her turmoil out loud, pleading with God to clean her of these impurity.

She’s good. She’s pure. She’s holy. She will not be tainted by Stephanie Lauter.

With these thoughts in mind, Grace returns to bed and does her best to ignore the faint reminders of Steph that seem to creep along the neurons that try to remind her of her truth.

The night passes into the next day and then she’s at school again, waiting at the tables outside the building for her friends. Every day, without fail, Grace is the first one to arrive, parking and locking her pink bike up, and waiting at the outdoor tables for them. Normally, she’d pull out her bible and review her annotations or her scripture before school, but this time, she just sits there, watching the others arrive.

Peter drops into a seat with Richie on his tail, the two of them engrossed in a conversation that Grace doesn’t understand. Instead, she sits there, nervously running her fingers together as she does her best to calm the nervous butterflies that trickle through her stomach, so right and so wrong at the same time.

Finally, only a few minutes before the bell is going to ring, Steph shows up and Grace’s heart drops deep into her stomach.

Oh, this is wrong, but oh, she’s never felt like this before. That unfamiliar feeling of want spills through her veins, electrifying her nerves as she watches Steph take a seat, drinking an over sugared coffee. Without a word, she hands Peter a matching cup from Beanies, his daily hot chocolate, as her tired eyes seem to shut harshly, blessing Grace with a splattering of sparkling silver eyeshadow. It catches the light and Grace has a hard time pulling her gaze away from the mesmerizing color.

“Good morning!” Grace chirps, a little overly perky and Steph gives her a look.

“If it was a good morning, I’d still be sleeping.”

Grace withers a bit at the response and Steph notices, sighing but reassessing her words.

“Okay, sorry, that was rude. Morning, Grace.”

It’s such a little thing but it doesn’t help that nervous tingling in Grace’s stomach. Is it God who has placed this in her body or is the devil attempting to take her away from her Lord and Savior? Steph doesn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with her sugary, caffeinated drink, to realize Grace’s inner turmoil.

It seems to coil through her body, twisting within her skin until it threatens to overflow and Grace has to hold back a hitched breath, her eyes continually returning to Steph’s eyes, her hair, her lips. It’s so wrong but it feels so right and takes some kind of Herculean effort to pull herself together when her body wants to unravel right there and then.

Taking a steadying breath, Grace begins to spin her W.W.J.D bracelet around her wrist and tries to get herself to settle. This is fine. She is fine. None of this is right but she has God on her side so she isn’t going to give in to human temptation when she’s a daughter of Christ.

The day passes in agonizing speed and Grace clings onto the tiny bits of attention that Steph feeds her. When their shoulders brush in the hallway, Grace’s heart does a spin but Steph doesn’t even seem to register her feelings. When Steph silently passes Grace a clean napkin after her sandwich smears against her lunchbox, Grace accepts it with fingers that seem to want to grab onto the other girl’s fingers instead of taking the paper cloth. Offering a pencil to Steph feels like an offering of peace, silently begging Steph to take more than that, but she doesn’t.

Their connection is a strange one, where Grace has never had a friend that she feels as close with then Steph, while the other girl seems indifferent to everyone, but if she can spend time with someone, she doesn’t tend to choose Grace. But they’re still friends, just on different levels of friendship, and that genuinely hurts at times. Sometimes, Grace just needs a best friend but more often than not, Steph doesn’t want to be that friend. So then why, instead of drawing her away, is she so enthralled in the other girl? Why does she want a closer connection to the girl who doesn’t seem to relate these feelings, both platonically and… romantically?

It’s likely just confusion. Her body is attempting to gain something that she cannot have. It’s just influence from other people, the pressure of it getting to her. Ruth deals with this all the time so it’s not abnormal, just wrong. Grace can’t feel this. It’s not her place. She’s better than this, right? Or- at least, she’s supposed to.

This isn’t right. No, Grace is going to fix this. She’s going to go to Steph and explain the strange feelings in her body and then deny them. Then, she’ll be done with Steph for good. Nothing is worth her relationship with God.

Tomorrow, Grace is going to go confront Steph about the weird feeling she’s getting. She’s going to tell Steph and then Steph is going to make it go away, because this is all her fault. Temptation is a devil that Grace refuses to walk with. Tomorrow, this will all be over and she’ll return to the purity that she’s given so much of her life for. So with that, Grace makes her decision and sticks to it like glue. She knows what must be done. She knows her place in God’s perfect plan and she’s going to execute it as she’s required to.

This is God’s plan. A test that he’s placed in her path that makes it her job to fix. Grace, the holy girl, who always does what is right, will do it.

Chapter Text

Tuesday morning comes far too quickly for Grace and she wakes up, an uncomfortable pit in her stomach. Steph is on the precipice of her mind, lingering there and refusing to leave. Every interaction, every conversation, Grace finds her eyes fixated on her eyes or her lips, just a little too close for comfort. But this conversation needs to happen. She’s going to tell Steph that she isn’t gay, she doesn’t like her that way, and to please stop being so attention-grabbing because it’s distracting. It’s the right thing to do in God’s eyes so Grace has to.

Still, breakfast is anxiety ridden and she tries to remind herself that her feelings are simply the devil’s attempts to steer her onto a wayward path. If she ignores them and stays on the righteous path, then they’ll pass on their own.

“Have a great day at school today, darling,” her mother says with a warm smile and she grins back. “I’m very proud of you.”

The words leave a bit of heaviness in her stomach and her smile droops a little as she turns to pick up her backpack. Her mother places a kiss on her cheek without warning and the action layers even more guilt onto her shoulders, bearing the weight like a cross draped over her back.

Grace bikes to school in nervous worry and then parks her bike, heading inside the building, completely aware that it’s very unlikely Steph is going to make it to school early enough for them to talk. Still, she waits near the front of school for almost a half hour, before heading into her first few classes. Third period, she does have class with Steph and Peter, but the former arrives ten minutes late to that class, holding a cup of coffee that Grace knows for a fact is loaded with sugar and caffeine. She silently places a second cup on Peter’s desk, his hot chocolate, before sitting down next to him, a few feet in front of Grace.

Her heart seems to pick up in a way that she cannot control as Steph tosses her hair behind her and slumps over her notebook, ignoring Miss Mullberry. Normally, Grace would be extremely attentive to her teacher, but at the moment, her eyes seem to be fixed to Steph, unwilling to leave. There’s an itch growing underneath her skin, threatening to revolt and she bites her lip, trying to breathe evenly and ignore it.

It’s want. It creeps through her skin, dangerous and sinful, and Grace is a puppet on strings. No matter how hard she fights, her eyes linger, the images of holding hands and plying with hair dangling in her mind.

The class passes and Grace is consistently engulfed in her own thoughts, unable to concentrate on the lesson. The devil inside her is tempted and she’s on the precipice of falling apart, unable to give in and unable to resist it.

“Miss Chasity?”

Heck, she’s missed something. Looking up quickly, Grace notices her teacher looking at her, a bit disappointedly. Scrambling to figure out what’s going on, she takes a worried glance at the whiteboard and then her notebook, but she has nothing.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Timidly, Grace shakes her head, cheeks picking up a flush in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” she asks, her voice sounding quite small in the classroom.

“I’m reminding you of the test that we’ll be having next week and that everyone-” her eyes move from Grace to Steph with warning embedded deep in them, “-should be studying for. Correct, Miss Lauter?”

“Sure.”

Before Miss Mullberry can say anything else, the bell rings and immediately, the class begins to rush to pack up and head to their lunch block. Steph and Peter are standing by their desk together, giving Grace a moment to catch up with them.

“You’re really out of it, Chastity,” Steph jokes but it makes her wilt a little further, feeling her sins wrap like chains around her wrists. “You okay?”

There’s genuine concern beneath the sarcasm and it helps Grace, just a bit, but it also leaves her a little more sick and sinful inside. She knows what she has to do but it doesn’t seem easy.

“Not really,” she manages to admit. “Could we talk? Outside, maybe? Where we’re alone?”

Steph looks a little confused but nods and follows Grace who walks through the hallway, holding her backpack straps tightly as she sends off a final, silent prayer to God to give her the confidence to go through with her plans. Grace has always been able to set her sights on her goals so when the time comes, she knows what she has to do. They’re standing just outside Hatchfield High, hidden by a couple of trees as Grace steels herself for the conversation. There are words that must be said, words she has considered and not been able to figure out what to say.

“I have to tell you something,” she begins and Steph gives her a bored look, still a little amused by the entire situation.

“Is this important?”

“Yes. Very. Now, I need to ask you something before we start. Is it true that you’re gay?”

Whatever Steph expected her to ask, this clearly isn’t it. Her eyes go wide and she coughs, blinking hard at Grace as she stumbles over her words who stares at her, requiring an answer before she can go through with this.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Rumors. Now, could you please answer the question?”

Steph sizes her up for a moment then shrugs. “As long as you don’t give me some kind of stupid, you’re-going-to-hell-for-being-gay speech, then sure. Because trust me, I’m headed there, gay or not.”

“I won’t.” Grace considers this for a moment and then reevaluates her words. “Not today at least.”

There’s a moment between the two girls, eyes locked in on each other, curiously. Then, in a flicker of trust, Steph concedes, deciding to share her truth. Somehow, she trusts Grace.

“I’m bisexual, then. Is that all?” Steph asks, dryly, looking a touch amused. “What’s all of this about, Chastity?”

The question leaves Grace pulling on her backpack straps and straightening up, her cheeks flushing just a touch. Her breath is tight, thick like smoke in her lungs. This is the time she explains to Steph her mistake and makes it all go away, right? But the words don’t come. She stares up at the enchanting green eyes in front of her and her mind goes completely blank. All she can hear is her heartbeat in her chest, slowly speeding up as it thuds deep in her ribs, echoing through her ears.

Something within her stomach twists, like a parasite, like a tapeworm, except she doesn’t cower from it; Grace doesn’t want to run from this fear. She wants to embrace it.

The thrum of desire spills through her veins, consuming her body with sheer desperation like no other. Thoughts of purity, of God, of what she’s supposed to do, slip from her mind like running water. Although she’s never been impulsive with her life before, Grace finds herself moving like her body knows exactly what it wants but her mind won’t let her have it. She’s spurred into action by something that isn’t God but… she might be okay with that.

And just like that, her lips are against Steph’s and everything feels so right and so wrong at the same time. Grace’s hands are on Steph’s shoulders, firm but not painful. There are soft lips against her own, the slight taste of caramel coffee in her mouth. This is nothing like she thought her first kiss would be like, not at the altar with a husband, not dull or boring, not a man-

Steph is a girl.

Grace is tarnished.

The understanding hits both of them at the same time, though they’ve both come to extremely different conclusions as they pull away.

“Oh, so that’s why you were asking,” Steph mutters, a little smile playing on her face, her lipstick smudged, and with a jolt of fear, Grace realizes that it’s rubbed off onto her own lips. She can feel it, slightly oily and smeared across her bottom lip and a little bit on her skin. “Well if you’re trying to figure out if you’re gay-”

“I have to go.”

Grace turns, bolting away from Steph and back into the school building. She winds through the hallways, bumping into other students but she doesn’t notice. All she can feel is the heat in her cheeks- is it embarrassment or a crush? Can anyone see Steph’s lipstick rubbed onto her mouth, staining her with its tainted nature? Everyone can tell that she’s done something wrong now, can’t they? It’s as clear as day to her, an ink blot on paper, a smear of mud on fresh fallen snow, lipstick on clean skin.

Eventually, her feet bring her to the nurses office and she steps inside, practically shaking with exhilaration as she uses the back of her hand to clean her mouth from Steph’s lipstick. It smudges onto her hand and she tries to ignore it but the stain lingers on her skin, engraving her with a horrible mark of the devil. Crimson, like blood on a lamb; Grace is a fallen angel, soaked with gore, dripping of impurity.

“I don’t feel good. I want to go home,” she practically sobs and the school nurse gives her a funny, concerned look.

Grace Chasity has never missed a day of school in her life, nor has she shown up late or left early. She knows this is entirely uncharacteristic behavior but she can’t find it in herself to care about that when she has a much bigger problem at hand.

She just kissed a girl. Not just that, she liked kissing a girl. It felt more right than any kind of fantasy she had about the perfect future husband that she’d find, one who would follow God and sweep her off her feet (respectfully) and take care of her every whim. The guilt drops across her body until it’s practically suffocating her, dragging her down with a weight that yanks her shoulders to the floor. How can they not tell? Everyone should be able to see this weight that crashes down across her body, asking her to fall. Telling her of her sins, carried on her own back, dragging a cross to her grave.

“You do look flush. Would you like to call your parents?” the nurse asks and Grace nods, feeling her eyes sting with tears.

Through a fearful haze, she calls her mom who picks her up from the front of school, loading her bike into the back of her car before driving her daughter home. Her gentle, kind mother, who does her wifely and motherly duties, serving her husband, taking care of their house, and following the Lord’s scripture in a way that Grace can only wish to upkeep.

“Are you feeling alright, Grace?” her mother asks, sounding concerned as Grace opens the door to the car. “This is entirely abnormal for you.”

“I feel really, really sick,” she replies, her voice trembling as she takes a seat. “Can we just go home?”

Her mom drives them back to the Chasity house and lets Grace go back to her room and change before, bringing her a cup of warm water with a little bit of honey, and tucking her into bed. She whispers a short prayer to God while holding her twisted daughter’s hands, and then smiles sadly, before leaving to let her daughter heal.

“Thanks Mom,” Grace whispers as she leaves, but her mind is swirling with thoughts. She can’t stop replaying that moment in her mind, that kiss with Steph, the lipstick on her bare lips. It keeps her heart pounding and her skin seems to crawl under the weight of her actions.

She kissed Stephanie Lauter. Grace Chasity, the perfect, pure Christian girl of Hatchetfield, who preaches against romance and kissing and school dances, has kissed someone that she isn’t dating, doesn’t go to church, commits sins like they’re nothing, and is the same gender as herself. It doesn’t make any sense yet it’s happened and Grace can’t change the past. Temptation came and she bit the apple, desire for the sweet fruit overtaking her holy nature. She knew it was wrong and yet, she let it happen. How stupid can she be?

The devil waved his hand and Grace gave in like the stupid, mortal human she is. She’s not dumb enough to believe that she’s truly good because all people are sinners, but Grace doesn’t do things like this. She’s supposed to be better than this. She’s supposed to have God on her side to help with these impurities. Yes, she sins, but never like this. Never so blissfully and morally open.

Her actions are sinful, lustful, and disgusting. Why? She doesn’t understand why she did this. Grace has done everything it takes to be good. She’s given up so much in her life to follow her Lord and it’s left her here. Sitting in a pool of her sin.

Yes, all mortals sin and Grace is a mortal, but she shouldn’t have done it. She’s supposed to follow a higher code of conduct because her God has decided it for her. Growing up in the church is a blessing from Jesus, that she is allowed to be so strong in her faith.

If she could rewind time, Grace would. To a day ago, before she kissed Steph. To a month ago, before this impurity could even taint her. With every passing day, it seems that the life she’s built crumbles further and further down.

Grace tucks herself beneath the covers of her bed and buries her head in her pillow, wetness pooling in her eyes that leak onto the clean sheets below. She’s never been so confused in her entire life. If this is part of God’s plan then what does it all mean? Where is her role in life? What is she expected to do now? Did God decide this for her, or has Grace strayed from her path into a sinful nature?

She wants to trust in Him but there's so much undeniable doubt that litters her heart and it terrifies her. Up to this point, she’s never doubted her place in the world but Stephanie Lauter has uprooted her entire world, a shining star in a sea of light that Grace wishes she never saw.

An ache builds deep in her chest as she glances over at her hand, still lightly stained with the color of blood, of sin, of Steph. It’s all Grace wants and none of what she can have.

Chapter Text

That night, Grace skips dinner, and her mom brings her another cup of hot water and a slice of toast in bed as she curls under her covers, unable to move with the way her stomach twists in on itself. It isn’t basic guilt or nerves or fear; it’s crushing, chokingly horrified terror and confusion deep in her gut, ravaging like a wounded animal and demanding attention and forgiveness. Her skin blazes like fire and the thoughts in her head are blindingly loud. The night passes in deafening fear as Grace tosses and turns in her bed, unable to catch any sleep between her mind that refuses to quiet down and her stomach. The ache refuses to soften and bites her skin every time she moves.

Bible verses entwine with Steph’s voice. The taste of bitter grape juice and communion bread against Steph’s caramel coffee lips. An angel sits on one shoulder, coaxing her back to God, while a devil sits on the other, reminding her that her kiss was the only thing in her entire life that felt right in the several months. For once, Grace cannot find it in herself to pray.

When her alarm clock rings the next morning, Grace is thoroughly exhausted. Her eyes are swollen from multiple outbreaks of tears throughout the night and she’s practically paralyzed in fear. Every one of her muscles are tense and drawn up as she curls in on herself.

“How are you feeling?” her mother asks, entering her bedroom and Grace feels the words pressing against her gritted teeth. The only thing that keeps her from spilling the beans in her desire for safety and her engulfing terror.

“Not good,” she replies, truthfully, her voice wavering as her mom gives her a pitying gaze.

“That’s okay, dear. Why don’t you get some more rest? You look awful. I’ll call you out sick from school today and bring you something to eat.”

Grace nods, turning her eyes away from her mother who draws the covers over her body once more. Ten minutes later, she returns, handing Grace a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water. Before she leaves, she places Grace’s pink Bible next to her daughter who flinches at the sight and then hides it as quickly as possible.

Can she still go back to God if she needs help?

“Remember that everything is part of God’s plan and He can heal anything,” her mom says as she exits the room, completely unaware of the toppling confusion that she’s continuing to pile onto her daughter.

For a couple of moments, Grace can’t move, before she flips herself over and grabs the book next to her. With a frenzied desperation, she begins to flick through the pages, trying to find the right verses about homosexuality. She knows that there have been things stated in the Bible, as well as many beliefs amongst her church, but she can’t remember exactly what it said. Until a few days ago, the thought hadn’t even come to her. Being gay was something that hadn’t ever occurred to her. Other people did it, yes, but not her. She knows of them in her life but she’s never considered it an explicit problem for herself, a daughter of Christ.

However, the time passes and Grace is flooded with more and more confusion. Nowhere, in her heavily annotated Bible, can she find the exact rules that God speaks about with homosexuality. It doesn’t make any sense. If she can’t find the verses in the Bible as she purposefully looks for it, then how is there so much resentment between the church and the queer community?

When her Bible turns up no results, she moves on to her computer. While it contains many parental controls, she knows her parents don’t look through her browser history, because they think they’ve locked away any kind of social media that could taint her. However, Grace has full access to many approved websites, from Bible studies to sermons to speeches, and she dives into them without a second thought.

Verses unfold in front of her, leaving her with more questions than answers. Mentions of the crimes of homosexuality, but then twisted from a translation that meant differently in the past. What has been written in her English version doesn’t exactly match non-translated versions of the Bible and numerous different online websites claim different responses. Grace sits on the floor of her room, pouring over different versions of her Bibles to multiple different websites of other translations, to opinions from pastors online, to testimonials of ex-Christians.

With every new discovery, she’s hit with more and more conflicting opinions but she doesn’t find anything that makes complete sense to her. Every opinion has at least one flaw and Grace doesn’t know where she can stand any longer, on either side of the choices. Homosexual thoughts are one thing, and actions are another. Other people are sinners but Grace isn’t like that. She knows plenty of queer people - Steph, Ruth, Alice, Ziggs, Rose - and she’s never looked down at them for their sexualities, but it’s wrong when it comes to her. They aren’t Christian, no matter how hard she’s tried to drag them to church, but she is. She’s held to a higher standard than everyone else.

All Grace wants is answers, an explanation for what’s going on in her life, and she doesn’t get one. Nobody has a clear, concrete answer to what God wants from her and that scares Grace in a way that she’s never been scared in her life. Who is she in God’s plan and how far does His plan stretch? Did he want Grace to kiss Steph or was that her own selfish desires sent straight from the Devil?

The further she searches, the less it makes sense. What she needs is God on her side, to answer her questions. That’s exactly what she does.

Grace pushes away her notebooks, her Bibles, her computer, and bows her head, clasping her hands in front of her chest. It takes her a moment to begin, before the words spill from her lips in frenzied desperation.

“Lord? I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what’s wrong with me or why I did that, but please, won’t You answer me? Tell me what You want from me in life. Tell me why I kissed Steph-” the two words are difficult beyond belief to choke out, “-and set me on the righteous path that You have created for me.”

She can feel hands on her body, Steph’s lips on her own, weighing her down until she forgets how to speak, yet she presses forward somehow, in her solemn prayer.

“Show me Your will and I’ll follow it,” Grace promises. “I want to walk Your good plan but I can’t do it alone. Help me do as You please. You know what’s best for me; help me see the same way. I live for You.”

For some reason, her eyes are sealed firmly shut, fingers tightening around each other as she tries not to panic, but everything is broken and she’s falling apart at the seams.

“Allow me to be Your faithful servant and Your child in need of assistance. Please don’t allow me to fall into these temptations, for I know that You have a better plan for me. Lead me to Your flock once more, and back into Your kind arms. Although this is Your plan, assist me in carrying out Your desires.”

By now, Grace is begging. There are tears spilling from her eyes, clamped closed in prayer. Her entire body riots, her mind fighting her rigid position, as her muscles refuse to allow her to move. Even her teeth are clenched together, so tightly that she can hardly breathe, but if she does, she knows she’ll begin hyperventilating.

Sin hurts. It’s hurting her and she doesn’t know how to stop it. Vaguely, she registers it as some kind of retribution that she deserves for her actions, but it’s unbearable agony.

“I need Your forgiveness, God. Only You can cleanse me from my actions. Please.”

For some reason, God has trapped her in His fist, unable to escape prayer, but surely, that’s because she needs it. He’s stopping her from leaving so that she can be forgiven, right?

Crushing anxiety slams Grace in waves as she tries to remember how to be human once more. This chokehold that she’s been placed in refuses to let up so neither does Grace. God’s actions are there for a reason and if he requires her to keep praying, then that’s what she’ll do. No matter how scared she is, she is sinful and must be forgiven.

“Help me to see Your righteous and good plan. Only You can save me. Heavenly Father, hear my invocation and rescue me from my own, selfish sins.”

The words strip themselves free from her voice, intertwined with sobs and tiny gasps for air. Hot tears spill down her cheeks, every single cell drilled into place. Grace doesn’t move, her muscles taut with tension as she prays and prays and prays for forgiveness for her actions. Her mother was right; prayer is the only way to communicate with God, and surely He will amend this.

“I am a sinner and only You, my God, can save me. I have tainted myself and I need You to forgive me for that. Help me heal from the error of my own ways as I fall to the temptations of human flesh.”

Her whispered gasps are loud in her own ears but desires to be heard by her Lord. Grace must be good but she is failing, again and again and again.

“I accept Your good correction and your gentle hand, Father, and believe in You above everything else. Guide my wayward soul onto your righteous truth.”

God is good to her. He’s always been good to her and He always has a plan for her. She just has to trust in Him.

Chapter Text

The trance seems to break an indefinite amount of time later. A glance at the clock reveals it was nearly two hours of time spent on her knees, tears spilling, words flying, and her breath trembling, but she is eventually released and left trembling in a corner of her room. Her back is pressed against the wall and her fingers keep tracing an invisible smear of lipstick across her mouth.

If Grace has a guardian angel, then she’s never needed it as badly as she needs it now. A guardian angel to protect her from the tantalizing fear in her body. It threatens to revolt, to break her apart, and Grace doesn’t have any answers left. Her energy is completely drained and she’s left in a messy daze, slipping in and out of little crevices of sleep.

However, by the time her father returns from work, she knows that she wants to talk to her parents. They’ll help her understand her beliefs. After all, going to the people who she trusts and who love her is going to provide more understanding than anything written online.

“How are you feeling now, Grace?” her mother asks, worriedly peeking her head into her room and seeing her daughter curled up beneath her blankets, half-asleep.

“Better. A lot better than this morning,” she replies, truthfully. “Can I come down for dinner with you tonight?”

“Of course, dear.”

Her mom ends up making chicken soup for dinner, still believing that her daughter is sick, but Grace can deal with the little equivocation considering her other thoughts. She appears at the table looking much healthier, her hair brushed and in a white sweater, taking her seat at the small round table, sandwiched between her parents.

“Are you feeling better today, Grace?” her dad asks and she nods, giving him a small smile.

“I think so.”

A short conversation begins between her parents about her father’s job, but it ends quickly, and the Chasity’s are back to quiet. It takes Grace several moments to build up the courage to speak and she bails, several times. It’s like her anxieties twist up and into her throat, blocking her from speaking, until she finally sends off a quick, desperate prayer, for God to give her the strength to tell her parents. Once she begins, the words practically fly from her mouth.

“I need to ask you something. I just- I messed up yesterday and I don’t know what to do,” she blurts out putting her cutlery down as she looks at her parents.

“What happened? I’m sure we can fix it,” her mom replies with a reassuring smile. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can help you. And of course, if we can’t, the Lord can and will.”

Grace hesitates, swallowing hard but her parents will fix this. They preach forgiveness and if she’s truly made a mistake, then they’ll help her repent. God can forgive her sins. Her parents can forgive her sins.

“I kissed someone-” The words are barely out of her mouth before her mother lets out a gasp of horror.

“Grace! You’re far too young to be taking those steps without telling us,” she shrieks. “Who was the boy? I’ll need your father to talk to him and his parents at once.”

The same fear crashes down on her heart again. She knows she shouldn’t have kissed anyone but her mother doesn’t even know that it’s about a girl yet. Immediately, she clamps her mouth shut in a panic but it’s too late.

“Who was it?” her father repeats when Grace doesn’t explain. “Tell us, Grace.”

His voice is sharper than she’s used to and Grace flinches at the words. Suddenly, she thinks that what she’s doing is wrong. Maybe she shouldn't be telling her parents this. The unease only continues to grow as her parents look her in the eye, expecting an answer.

“Stephanie Lauter,” she whispers as her mother frowns.

“Speak up. We can’t hear you, Grace.”

There’s an uncomfortable snap to her tone and Grace shifts in her seat, fiddling with her W.W.J.D bracelet as she avoids her parents’ eyes. Her mind screams at her to lie but she’s far too scared to extend her list of sins for the day.

“It was Stephanie Lauter.”

The sheer silence that overflows the Chasity household is horrific from every moment. Grace physically withers as genuine hate seems to bloom from her parents’ eyes. Disgust flows through them, looking at someone who isn’t their child.

“The mayor’s daughter? You kissed a girl?” Mark Chasity asks and Grace looks away, water stinging her eyes. She doesn’t understand why he looks so furious.

“I’m sorry-”

“Are you aware of what you’ve done?” Karen shrieks. “So many of God’s commandments, broken!”

“I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to-”

“Are you trying to send yourself to Hell? Grace, what has gotten into you?”

“I didn’t think-”

“Clearly you didn’t,” Mark interrupts. “That’s obvious to us all.”

Karen and Mark Chasity have never acted like this. They hold themselves with poise, kindness, a Christian-attitude. Grace has never seen them lashing out like this. But right now, they are yelling, Grace is hiding, and the entire world seems to tremble at its core.

“Gay people have no salvation. They work completely against God’s nature.”

That… doesn’t fully check out. All of the passages, the sermons, the podcasts that she’s found in the past day, they haven’t said that. A few, yes, but many preach forgiveness, even in the face of these sins. Is she truly this bad? A corrupted, twisted sinner, with a heart blackened by crime?

“But maybe it’s part of His plan,” she tries again but Mark and Karen recoil in shock.

“Are you implying that He is the cause of your sin?”

“No, but-but can’t He forgive me?”

Gospel and reasoning twist around her mind and Grace stumbles through her words, the clarity cloudier than the muddiest river. The adults around her shout words that only make partial sense and she wraps her arms around her body, holding herself tightly and hiding.

“I came to you because I was confused,” she sobs, getting to her feet and trying to walk towards Karen but she presses herself away, back to Mark. “I needed help.”

“No child with a demon for a soul will be mine,” Karen replies and Grace is struggling to fight the tears in her eyes. “Get out of my house!”

“I thought you would help me?”

“We do not tolerate homosexuality in this household!” Mark snaps, his words thundering through the air and shaking Grace to her core. “After all we’ve done to try and steer you towards light?”

“But that’s why I need you to help me,” she begs, desperate for them to understand. “If you think it’s a sin then help me, please. Help me find forgiveness. I just want you to help me. I just want you to understand.”

“And I want a daughter who isn’t a sinful homosexual. I guess we don’t always get what we want, do we Grace?”

Karen’s words pierce through her heart and Grace stumbles once more, trying to redirect her racing mind.

“I-I’m not,” are the only words that she can get out, but she doesn’t even know what she’s responding to. “I-I don’t know. I’m not- I don’t like-”

“It’s too late.” Karen has a harsh coldness to her words, staring down Grace as she stands next to her husband. “You’ve corrupted yourself with these actions and we’ve failed as parents to steer you in a different direction. You are no longer a daughter of mine.”

“I made a mistake. I know! Please, don’t do this.”

Through a broken gasp for air, Grace watches the blurry figures of Mark and Karen no longer becoming the people she once knew. They draw themselves up, hatred gleaming in their eyes as she curls in on herself and tries to hide from the very people that she thought she could always trust.

“Get out of my house,” Mark snaps, his voice laced with cruelty. “And don’t come back. Our rules were simple and clear. You broke them. You’re not allowed here anymore.”

Grace takes a slow, shaky step backwards. Neither of them say anything as she takes another, and another until she’s practically out the door. The entire time, her eyes stay locked on the figures of Mark and Karen Chastity who refuse to stop her. Her parents have let her go and she doesn’t know where her Father is at this moment.

“Please,” she whispers and is met with withering silence, “don’t do this. I’m your daughter.”

There is no response, no rebuke, no argument, and no agreement. Just frigid, empty silence, as Grace stumbles back, both desperate to escape the hostile environment, and not being ready to leave. The hallway seems to shrink in length yet the figures at the end of the hall are a million miles away from Grace. She cannot hold onto them. She cannot stay. They’re so far away and so close and she’s unable to stop walking, unless they tell her to.

One foot out the door. Then the next. Then the door swings shut behind her and that’s it.

Grace is alone.

Chapter Text

The air is cold and crisp as Grace stands on the porch, unable to breathe. The sheer reality is unbearable. Her parents have kicked her out, shoved her away.

She should’ve known. Her sinful, cruel self should’ve known.

Oh she’s so stupid. Grace shouldn’t have kissed Steph, shouldn’t have kept it from her parents for so long, shouldn’t have told her parents, shouldn’t have been such a horrible person and failed to follow her God. She had so many good things on her side and she ruined them all because Grace is a selfish, impure, sinner.

She stares at her house, each breath slow and terrified. The night air sends chills down her spine as she numbly walks over to her bike, undoing the lock and clicking on her helmet as she gets onto her bike. Grace has never had a phone, doesn’t have her bible, been given none of her possessions except the clothes on her back, and her bike parked outside of their house. Considering that she can’t drive, it’s her only mode of transportation so she decides to take it.

For some reason, she feels absolutely nothing. All the fear, all the horror, has been drained from her within an instant, leaving her empty inside. She stands there, one leg swung over her bike, as her body slowly moves into action and her body doesn’t comprehend where she’s peddling to.

The evening night is cool, illuminated by streetlights and the nearly set sun. She bikes, methodically, hollow as her body takes her around Hatchetfield. Pedalling gently, breathing mechanically, and watching the flickering lights of happy families in their homes around her.

Ten minutes later, Grace pulls up to the Lauter household, staring at it as she parks her bike, stumbles off of it, and hangs her helmet from the handlebars. The grass beneath her feet splits as she walks, her eyes downcast. When she makes it to the front porch, she hesitates, but only for a brief moment.

If her parents don’t know how to react, then she’ll go to Steph. It just makes sense. Go to someone else who will understand what she’s going through, right?

Grace rings the doorbell and steps backwards, fiddling with her W.W.J.D bracelet as she waits for the door to open. It takes a moment of pure anxiety, before it opens, and Mayor Lauter looks down at her, seemingly surprised at the teenager on his doorstep.

“If this is another invitation to your church on Sunday, then I’m not interested, Miss Chasity,” he says, briskly, but Grace shakes her head.

“I need to see Steph. It’s urgent,” she replies, surprised at how unsteady her voice is, like she’s on the verge of falling apart, but of course she isn’t because Grace has done this to herself and she doesn’t deserve the luxury of panic or pain. “Please.”

He regards her for a moment, the surprise of seeing Grace mixing with the darkening sky, but seems to decide she isn’t a threat because he steps backwards and gestures to her to come inside.

“Stephanie is upstairs in her room. Up the stairs, first door to the right. Think you can find it yourself?” Grace nods. “Good. I’ll be in my office. Don’t disrupt me.”

A quick hike up a flight of stairs and Grace is standing in front of Stephanie’s door. It’s shut but she can hear unfamiliar music clearly being blasted from inside. She knocks timidly and there’s no response. The second time, she knocks harder, hearing the echo rings around the hallway.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Dad,” Steph calls over the loud music and Grace bites her lip, drawing back for a moment, before committing to the conversation. She needs Steph’s help right now.

“It’s Grace.”

The music comes to an abrupt stop and then the door opens.

“What the hell are you doing here, Chastity?” Steph isn’t dismissive of her, rather surprised, but Grace lets out a slow breath.

“Can I come in?” She hears her own voice, sounding timid and Steph says nothing in response as she walks in.

The two of them end up sitting across from each other, Grace on a beanbag chair on the floor, and Steph on her bed.

“So… Why did you come here?” Steph asks again, but it’s clearly awkward between them as Grace struggles to find her words.

It’s hard to get them out, through the obvious tension in the room. They both know why she’s here, but Steph isn’t ready to jump to any conclusions. Instead, she sits, watching Grace, waiting for an answer, even through the long silence that follows.

“You know how I kissed you?” she finally blurts out and Steph nods.

“Then you ran away from me after? Yeah. I mean, I’ve kissed a lot of people and I don’t think they’ve ever ran away from me after the first one.” She smirks in amusement but Grace doesn’t smile back. “What was that about, Chastity? No offense, but I think all of us assumed you were straight.”

“I am. I mean, I think I am. I’m supposed to be. I-I don’t know,” Grace blurts out and suddenly, her eyes are stinging with tears that are on the verge of falling, which wipes the grin off of Steph’s face.

“Slow down, Grace. What the hell do you mean?”

“I don’t know what I mean!”

Steph pauses, trying to decipher Grace’s frantic confusion as she wipes her overflowing eyes, trying to control the tears that keep reforming. They fall no matter how hard she fights and she doesn’t know what to do. The sleeves of her sweater are turning wet with how rapidly she tries to hide the falling tears.

“Did you do something after our kiss? Something that maybe you shouldn’t have done?” she asks, knowingly, and Grace nods, miserably.

“I told my parents and they’re mad,” she cries and Steph’s expression shifts, brutally. “They told me to get out of their house and that I wasn’t allowed to be there with them.”

“Why would you tell them? That’s like rule number one of being gay. Don’t tell your parents and definitely don’t tell your extremely religious parents, Chastity.” Her voice carries her typical snark but it stings Grace with how much indifference seems to lace her tone. “You think my dad knows? Hell no. He’d lock me up in some conversion therapy camp or mental health asylum to prevent me from ruining his campaign.”

“I thought they were going to help me.”

Grace searches Steph’s gaze for some kind of relief but there's nothing but confusion. The other girl has never been to wear her emotions on her sleeve but surely, she has enough compassion to help.

“Why would your parents help you?” she asks, not for her own sake, but for Grace’s. There are words that she wants to say, ones that lay within her aching ribcage, that form a lump in her throat that she struggles to get out.

“Because they love me?” It’s a question. A plea for agreement. Grace’s voice is meek, timid, desperate to be comforted by someone.

Steph watches her, something like pity shining in her eyes and Grace blinks hard. The tears still spilling and leaving tracks against her face that itch, her skin and eyes burning. Finally, she speaks, her tone not cruel, but the words are. “Do they love you more than their own religion?”

For a long moment, Grace doesn’t think she can breathe. It hurts. Oh, it hurts. A dagger straight through her vulnerable heart, a shot that connects directly with her open wound, as her ribcage opens up and accepts the cut as if it was expecting it, even when Grace wasn’t.

Her parents love her. Well -- they love the good, Christian daughter that Grace is. But less than half an hour ago, her mother looked at her like she was a demon, like she wasn’t a sister in Christ.

She doesn’t want to think about that. Steph’s words fester in her mind, so dangerous that they could splinter. Instead, she moves forward, almost begging Steph to hear her.

“You… can help me, right?”

Steph stares, confused.

“What are you talking about, Grace? Help you with what? My dad is my dad and I can’t help you like that.”

“I mean, I like you so that-that means something, right? You know how it is. You like someone, you start dating, you get married, so that means you’re going to help me. Help me figure this out. This thing with my parents, with you, with God-”

“Grace, I… I don’t like you like that.”

The words come as a blow to her stomach and she freezes, swallowing hard as denial crashes down around her. It makes sense, but it doesn’t. Of course Steph doesn’t, but shouldn’t she? Once again, something has gone wrong in her plans and she doesn’t understand why. Is this another part of God’s plan, to bring her closer to Him? It can’t be. Not when it hurts this bad, unless He’s testing her.

“But-but I became gay for you?” Grace questions.

“That’s not how it works. You need to take some time to figure yourself out, Grace. How long have you been considering this?”

That’s a loaded question that Grace cannot answer. When did the first tainted thought appear? Or when was it Steph, specifically? Or about telling her? She stumbles for an answer.

“Since… three days ago?”

Pity reflects in Steph’s eyes and Grace is so lost inside. In the span of an hour, she can feel everything she once knew being ripped away from me. It doesn’t make any sense.

“I did it for you.” Her voice is tiny in the grand scheme of things.

“But you didn’t tell me that. I didn’t tell you that. Really, Grace, you can’t just rush into everything! You need to think ahead sometimes. We’re not dating. I can help you, but we’re not dating, and I need you to understand that.”

Cold realization seems to flow through Grace’s vein, engulfing her with broken down fear. She’s misunderstood. She’s ruined everything. Why has she done this again?

“I thought that you would help me.”

There’s an emotion in Steph’s eyes, one that leaves Grace so utterly confused that she just stands there, staring. She looks exhausted.

“Jesus has a plan for me. I-I thought that you were part of it-”

“Cut the Jesus crap, Grace!” Steph snaps and she flinches, as if Steph has driven another blade through the bloody wreck that her heart is. “God, can you really be this ridiculous? Sometimes, things happen, okay? I don’t know what’s going on with your parents or your faith or anything else, but I’m not your girlfriend.”

She pauses and Grace says nothing, her entire world seeming to fizzle into smoke around her. There’s frustration rattling through Steph, like her fuse has blown and she’s overworked, unable to deal with the mess that Grace is.

“Did you even realize I’ve been dating Pete for the past three weeks?” she asks and Grace blinks, the puzzle pieces dropping back into place. No, she really didn’t. Grace has been so selfishly engulfed in her own world, caught up in her own twisted desires of Steph and God and her parents, that she didn’t even realize. But it makes sense. The coffee runs. The little smiles. All the times they went to study together, without anyone else.

“I didn’t.” She sounds like a child. Steph feels like a goddess, except she is not God, and Grace is just confused and tired and hurting so badly that she cannot even figure out what is up and down or left and right or good and bad or holy and sinful.

“Sometimes, it feels like you’re completely out of touch with reality,” Steph finishes and oh- that hurts. The final nail driven into the hands of Jesus, just a small hammer of further pain and hate in the agony of his death, driving Grace into her own cross.

Grace pulls her gaze from Steph, drawing her legs close to her chest. There are tears coming from her eyes and she doesn’t know where they’re from. The constant rejection of the people she loves or the pain of this loneliness, or something else, she can’t figure it out. All the emotions jumble themself in her mind and she struggles to figure things out.

Why is she so stupid? Why does she do this? Steph is right. Grace is impulsive and messes it up time and time again. She’s so dumb to think that this was happening.

“Look, I didn’t mean to yell at you,” Steph begins, her voice softening with sympathy. Still, it’s pity, not kindness. It’s wrong. She’s wrong. They’re wrong. “I get that you’re confused. But you’re making major assumptions and I think-”

“I get it,” she chokes out, feeling the tremor of her voice deep in her gut. “‘No, I get it. I’m screwing up everything again.”

“I didn’t mean that-”

“I’m just going to leave, Steph.” Grace rises to her feet, using her sleeve to wipe the falling tears away from her cheeks. “Thanks for your help.”

It’s a true statement. Steph has put everything into perspective. Grace has utterly screwed up all the good things in her life because she doesn’t know anything. This is all her fault. Why has she done all of this? If she’d just stayed on her holy, righteous path, then this wouldn’t be happening. Somehow, she’s done everything wrong again.

She flees down the steps and hears Steph begin to follow her but she just runs faster, opening and closing the door behind herself and throwing herself onto her bike, not even bothering to put her helmet on.

“Chastity, listen to me!” Steph shouts from across her lawn as Grace begins to pedal away as her voice begins to hitch with sobs. “I didn’t mean it like that! Please, just talk to me! Grace!”

Grace doesn’t listen. She pedals harder, with no idea where she’s heading, until she ends up at the edge of Hatchetfield: Witchwood Forest. When the dirt becomes too loose to bike over, she ditches her Schwinn and takes off running by foot, deep into the woods. The entire time, she can’t stop the tears or the blasting, loud voice in her mind that tells her that she’s ruined her life.

She runs. Runs until she can’t hear anything over the sound of her heartbeat and heavy breathing and small cries that break free with each step. Runs until her legs hurt more than her heart does and then she keeps going, trying to forget Steph’s words. Runs until her chest is on the verge of exploding, bursting into a storm of hot air and fresh tears.

Really, she’s a fool. She always has been and she always will be. Of course this is how things have worked out for that little weird girl who could never quite fit in. At church, she was never perfect enough. At school, she was always too stuck up, too bossy, too demanding. She barely has friends - Peter, Steph, Ruth, and Richie - who all seem closer to each other than they do to her. Time after time, she takes second place to someone or something else: her parents’ faith, to Peter for Steph’s heart, to the other kids at school, and the rest of her church.

For years, she’s thrived in not fitting in. It felt special, like God destined her for something greater than everyone else. But now He leaves her empty, hollowed out and lonely. There is something horrifically and horribly wrong with her and Grace needs to be fixed.

Why has God done this to her? Cast her out, pushed her away, and challenged her beyond belief, to bring her closer to Him? That doesn’t seem plausible but then again, Grace doesn’t know God’s mind. Yet reasoning with her parents to kick her out, abandon her, and fear her, instead of cherishing her. That isn’t Christian love, but does she even deserve love? Or are her sins too cruel for real love to be given to her?

The questions swirl through her mind and Grace crumples under the pressure, running, sobbing as she does. She needs to escape her mind and her world, but it’s too loud and she can’t breathe, as if God Himself is stealing the air from her lungs.

“Help,” she gasps out, not knowing who she’s talking to: God, Mark and Karen, Steph, or the world, “please. Help me.”

There is no response. Nobody comes for her.

Chapter Text

When her legs finally begin to give out, Grace finds herself deep in the woods, sobbing. Her legs tremble with exertion and every part of her life feels like a lie. There used to be a time in her life where thoughts were linear and things made sense. No longer is that true. There is nothing but disgust at herself for her actions.

In the deep treachery of her confusion, she finally slows and Grace does the only thing she knows how to do anymore. She gets on her knees, bows her head, clasps her hands, and she prays. She prays for forgiveness for her sinful thoughts and actions, prays that God will get her parents to understand that she was trying to be good, prays for herself and some kind of clarity in the mess that has become her life. Tears run down her face and she whispers her prayers, begging, crying, pleading for help that doesn’t come.

She despises every bit of herself. Every sinful, desirable thought is a crime. Temptation waved forbidden fruit in front of her and she bit, just like the sinner she is. If she had just stayed on her path instead of straying from her destiny then this wouldn’t be happening.

The guilt hits her in messy waves and Grace sobs into her hands, her heart screaming for help. Everything is sheer confusion and horrific loneliness inside of her.

What’s going on? Are her actions her own, needed to be forgiven by God, or are they planned by Him to strengthen their bond? Who decided that she would do this: her sinful heart or the omniscient Jesus Christ? Is she even allowed to think this?

The thoughts rile up beneath her skin, clawing at her flesh for release until they choke her but she squeezes her eyes tighter and continues to pray for some kind of salvation. God wouldn’t put her through this, would he?

Morning comes, the sun rises, and nothing changes. Grace is alone and nobody comes for her. Not her parents. Not Steph. Not even God. Prayer comes through gasps, swirling images in her mind, entwining within her begging for redemption.

She doesn’t think that she’s ever felt any kind of abandonment until now. Her soul is excruciatingly empty, with no sign of love to fill it. In her life, she’s never had need for loneliness when she always had Jesus with her. But he remains silent and there’s nobody but her in the little room.

Grace is utterly and entirely alone.

It makes her blood burn with horrific terror and she breaks down sobbing again, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. Scrambling against the ground, she presses herself against a tree until she can’t move back any further but she doesn’t know what she’s trying to escape from. Every inhale is pure fire to her lungs, not a drop of oxygen in the breaths as she rapidly gasps for some kind of reassurance in the familiarity of breathing but there’s nothing. She’s left gagging on empty air, her ragged inhales only broken by her damaged sounding sobs.

The fear creeps through her skin, locking each muscle into place as she drags in empty breath after empty breath, stumbling over each one with miserable, animalistic sounds.

If she could think clearly, she’d probably pray for help again, but it’s done her no good and she can’t muster a single clear thought through her fear. It’s just terrified strings of confusion surging through her mind and leaving her completely at the mercy of her feelings.

Grace sobs through her wicked gasps for air, doubled over on herself as she’s hit with wave after wave after wave of relentless panic. No matter what she does, she can’t control the desperate attempts at breathing. It should be so easy but nothing is easy when it comes to her. No, she ruins everything she lays her hands on. Why? She’s tried so hard to be good, to be pure, to be a child of the Lord, and she’s screwed that all up with a stupid kiss for a girl who doesn’t even like her back.

Her head echos with phantom pain, splinters of agony coming from every single desperate breath, and aching with the influx of oxygen and information. Everything is wrong, Grace is wrong, and she needs to fix this, but she can’t.

Utterly alone, somewhere in the Hatchetfield woods, Grace cries out for a God who doesn’t answer her. She can’t stop herself from questioning it. Is He ignoring her because He needs her to be punished for her actions? Or is this part of His plan for her? Or maybe, just maybe, is it because He isn’t real?

She’s never doubted her faith before but with her entire world rocked, it seems to stem from religion. Her parents denied her because of their religion. They chose God over Grace and maybe that’s the right thing to do for the Lord but it hurts her. She was their child. Does that not mean they can forgive her for her sins?

The emptiness of Him in her heart leaves her hollow, crying her way through a panic attack until she can’t fight any longer, and then just wheezing her way through tears as she leans against a tree, not caring about the dirt beneath her as serenity takes its sweet time to come back to her. It takes far too long for relief to come, washing over her as she slowly unfolds her cramping hands and gives up. If God hasn’t answered her yet then she quite literally doesn’t have the energy to ask him again. Two sleepless nights, spent wondering and panicking have taken their toll on her.

It’s a Friday, which means that people won’t be in the woods. Her absence won’t be missed and Steph won’t know where she is, which means nobody will know where she is. So Grace simply curls tight against soft dirt and tough trees around her, and quickly drops into her own mind, begging things to change for her.

Sometime along the early morning, her body gives out to exhaustion. The next time she wakes up, the sun is still out, glowing bright in the sky, and she blinks, trying to figure out her location. For a moment, it’s just gentle confusion, before all of the memories come crashing back into her mind.

Grace sits up, feeling entirely hollow at her predicament, half-heartedly wiping dirt from her white sweater, unable to even care about the dirt stains across the soft fabric. She’s tired and hungry and ultimately, confused. In her entire life, she’s never felt this level of abandonment, ever. She’s always had her parents and even when they were gone, she had God.

For a while, she simply leans against a tree, staring at the floor as she considers her options, finding none of them plausible. Even the option of going back to her parents or Steph, with the way that they looked at her… She can’t. The fear practically chokes her as she tries to puzzle her way out of her predicament but none of the plans she lays out are working. Everything that she once knew to be true is now false. Grace sits here, content with the idea of turning to wood and rot, away from all semblance of humanity. Despite her nap, she’s completely exhausted, willing to shut her eyes and never open them again.

Deep in her faltering plotting, Grace suddenly becomes aware of footsteps approaching her and she shoots up to her feet, spinning around as her eyes cross the woods, scanning for danger.

“Who’s there?”

“Grace Chasity.” It isn’t a question, nor an answer; it’s a command.

“No, I’m Grace Chasity. Show yourself!” she yells and watches as they come into view. “Mayor Lauter?”

He steps into the small clearing that she’s found as she tries to recall how much he might know or Steph may have told him about what happened. The Mayor looks bored, as usual, but his composure is off, dirt stains on his jacket cuffs and shoes, with a book in his hand. It’s black with a strange white marking on the front, tucked beneath his arm as he watches Grace with slight curiosity.

“Did Steph send you?”

She’s met with a strange look.

“My daughter tells me nothing, Grace. No, I simply followed the not-so subtle tracks you left behind. I came looking for you.”

It doesn’t make any sense. Grace stares at him, trying to decipher his motives but she comes up empty-handed.

“Rumors spread like wildfire. I know that you and your parents had a dispute… about God?”

Immediately, Grace locks up, staring daggers at the older man. She doesn’t want rumors. She wants to disappear. She doesn’t want anyone to see or know about her like this.

“That’s private information. How do you know that?”

“Secrets don’t keep in this town. But I’m not here to pry for information about your home life. You’re struggling with your faith. Let me show you something real,” Mayor Lauter explains. “Then you can decide what to do with it.”

“No, no, God is real,” Grace babbles, words flowing off her sinful tongue like water from a river, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m not telling you that your faith is real or fake, I simply offer you a new opportunity to meet something that will answer you. Do you want it or not?”

He holds out the book and Grace stares at it.

“What is it?” she asks, even as it makes her skin crawl with fear.

“Answers. Look for the sixty-sixth page.”

Without another word, Mayor Lauter slips away through the trees and Grace doesn’t bother to chase him, opting to gaze down at the seemingly innocent book in her hands. Slowly, she opens it, carefully flipping through it with blazing curiosity.

It’s page upon page upon page of… incantations? Grace lingers through them until she finds the page that Mayor Lauter was directing her to.

The Lords in Black

The title is clear across the page, instructions below it, as Grace stares down. It’s a summoning spell for some kind of dangerous gods. Except… there aren’t multiple? No, there’s God and this must be Satan, yet it… isn’t?

Faith and life seem to spin before her as she gazes across the book, flooded with pages and pages of spells. They can’t be real. Magic isn't real. God holds power, Satan defies it, and people walk with no kind of abilities. Still, she wants answers. Real ones.

The book says she needs to find Black Alter to perform this spell and Grace wants to try. Surely, if God is real, then nothing will happen. Some part of her lingers between truth and faith, searching for something that she can understand. So she keeps reading, looking for the instructions.

She’s given a map to the five Black Alter’s in town. One of them, the old, abandoned Waylon place, is the only one that she can guarantee to be empty, so she picks it and begins heading in the direction. With a newfound purpose, she finds herself genuinely propelled towards answers that she’s been questioning for the past few days. With everything that seems to be revealed, she wants more.

The Waylon place doesn’t take long to get to but when she tries the door, it’s locked. In the back of her mind, Grace recalls that her dad is in charge of selling the house but due to the rumors of it being haunted, it isn’t selling. It takes several attempts before she’s able to kick it hard enough that the lock busts open from creaky, rotting wood, and she lets herself in, shutting the door behind her.

She finds herself in a relatively dark room, the only light coming from dusty windows and the setting sun as she places the book on the ground in front of her, kneeling and reading the opening lines to the summoning out loud.

Holding Court With The Void

“I summon the names,” she murmurs as she swallows, not sure if she hopes that it’ll work or that it’ll fail. Technically, she’s putting all of her trust into the, admittedly slightly twisted Mayor of the town, but at this point, she needs something to believe in. And if this fails then at least she’ll know that something else is false. “Pokotho. Bliklotep. T'noy Karaxiss. Nibblenephim. Wiggog Y'rath.”

Grace stumbles through the names, before repeating them again. She doesn’t know why. It has to fail because God is real, but Grace doubts that more than she’s willing to admit. It’s easier to speak the names than believe her lies.

“Pokotho. Bliklotep. T'noy Karaxiss. Nibblenephim. Wiggog Y'rath. Pokotho. Bliklotep. T'noy Karaxiss. Nibblenephim. Wiggog Y'rath. Pokotho. Bliklotep. T'noy Karaxiss. Nibblenephim. Wiggog Y'rath.”

Each time she says a name, she finds her voice raising in volume, desperation becoming clear within her tone. She wants, so badly, for something to happen, for something to explain the world that has completely changed around her.

“Pokotho. Bliklotep. T'noy Karaxiss. Nibblenephim. Wiggog Y'rath-'' As the final name exits her lips once more, the book in front of her bursts into life and Grace scrambles backwards. Colors shoot into the air as her head snaps up in disbelief, watching the streams of color turn into forms, landing around them.

“Hello fwendy-wend!” A figure of green, grotesque tentacles, lets out a horrific giggle as Grace shrieks, throwing herself against the back wall as the wood creaks with her weight. “You called for us?”

They’re… real?

Grace lets out a shaky breath, her eyes whipping around the five figures that stand in front of her with twisted grins of sheer entertainment. They are inhumane and take the deformed shape of humans at the same time. It’s wrong and horrible but alive.

“Are-are you the Lords in Black?” she asks, her voice barely a squeaky whispers and the green one nods.

“You can call me Wiggly,” he replies, dipping his crown with a manic glimmer of joy. “I don’t prefer formalities, Gracie.”

“You know my name?”

“Of course we do,” the pink one replies, head twisting to the side with unnatural glee with its all-too-large mouth morphing into a monstrous smile. It feels like he’s watching her, but without any eyes. “We’ve been watching you and all of Hatchetfield. Nibblenephim, at your service, but you can call me Nibbly.”

“Do you work for Satan?”

Grace has barely uttered the words before the Lords in Black howl with laughter, the sounds grating her ears. It’s as if what she said is pure humor to them, watching them laugh as she waits for an answer.

“We work for nobody,” the purple figure replies, a singular, bulbous yellow eye flashing with danger. The words exit from an unseen mouth and Grace swallows hard at the sick feeling of something being so wrong with them.

“Satan works for you?”

“She’s foolish,” the deep blue figure replies, annoyed from behind his cracked stone mask. “We don’t have a God or a Satan. We are the Lords in Black and we hold the power of the world.”

It’s an answer but not one that Grace was waiting for. She’s dedicated so much of her life, given up so much, for something that… isn’t true? The thoughts make her head spin and she slowly slides down the wall until her knees are pressed against her chest and she’s seated on the floor. She buries her face in her knees, wrapping her arms around her body as she tries to control her breathing, terrified of falling into another panic attack while simultaneously on the verge of falling apart.

Her life is a lie.

God isn’t real. These figures might be speaking in blasphemy but it doesn’t feel that way. They are real, they are the solid figures in front of Grace who have responded to her cries and actually seen her.

If these are real and they speak in truth, then why has Grace dedicated so much of her life to suffering and pain? She struggled and fought and believed until she no longer could. It’s cruel and wrong for the torture she’s been through, standing up for her beliefs alone, only to learn of their falsities.

“Gracie, Gracie, Grace,” Wiggly says, his voice much softer although still manic and Grace looks up at him, struggling to stop the tears in her eyes. “Why so sad?”

“God isn’t real?” Her voice is tender, trembling. “Then why did I do everything -- my parents did everything -- my entire life-”

“He isn’t. But we are and we’re here to help you. You’re not alone anymore.” He bends down, looking up at her, coaxingly. “You called us and we can grant you power. You just have to make a deal.”

The other Lords approach her as Grace wipes the tears from her eyes and looks around. As grotesque and terrifying as the Lords are, she’s strangely comforted by something being close to her.

“We aren’t scary,” Nibbly coos, voice high pitched and dangerous, looking around at his fellow Lords. “Go on. Introduce yourselves.”

“Blinky,” the purple one says, eyeing Grace like she’s something desirable, as tainted as she is. “The watcher.”

“You’re not human,” Grace murmurs and his eye flickers with delight.

“We’re not. We’re taking human form to communicate with you, now,” the yellow one replies and Grace turns to him, trying to keep the Lords straight in her mind. “Tinky.” He grins, rattling a little golden box in his hand.

“And I’m Pokey,” the blue one finally finishes. “And we, as you know, are the Lords in Black.”

“We’re the only gods in this realm,” Tinky continues. “Or any realm, for that matter.”

“What are you doing here, then?”

“You summoned us, of course,” Wiggly replies. “We’re here to do as you wish. Make a deal. Give you your deepest desires.”

She shakes her head, swallowing hard.

“I don’t want anything from you. I just needed answers… About God, the universe, my-my parents.” Her voice trembles at the last word. “I just want them to love me for me.”

“There are many things we can do. Take control of their minds and bodies. Go back in time to fix your mistakes. Possess those who have harmed you. Those are the gifts we can offer,” Wiggly explains.

Grace is tempted, the way she was tempted to kiss Steph, the way Eve was tempted to eat an apple, except Eve is not real, Steph is not here, and it is only Grace.

Slowly, she finds her footing, eyes not leaving the Lords in Black. They stand several feet away, celestial beings of impeccable beauty. She steps forward and the floorboards beneath her feet creek. Wiggly smiles a cruel, confusing grin and before Grace can decipher what it means, the ground beneath her falls out.

Her heart drops straight through her stomach as she releases a horrified cry for help. The air around her speeds by as she crashes through rotted wood. Grace slams her eyes shut, flailing her arms as she tightens her body, preparing for the pain of hitting the floor, except she’s met with nothing. For several moments, she holds her breath, braced for impact, before she hesitantly peels open her eyes.

The Lords in Black surround her, waiting expectantly as she takes a risky glance towards the floor. Her body floats a few inches from the ground as she maneuvers herself down, finding her feet on solid ground.

They saved her. When she has nobody else, the Lords in Black have saved her life for seemingly no reason. She watches them, confused. Do they want something from her?

“We don’t desire anything from you, Grace,” Wiggly says, and she doesn’t quite believe him but listens. “You called us here to help you, not the other way around.”

“I don’t need you,” she whispers, but it feels like a lie, even if she can’t figure out why.

There’s a moment of silence as they wait, but Grace comes up empty-handed with her wants. Nothing that makes tangible sense, anyway, until-

“Don’t you want revenge, Grace?” Blinky asks, breaking through her daze and there’s a clear hesitation in her gaze as she stares up at them, lost.

She shouldn’t want it. The rational part of her mind tells her not to give in, not to let some spirits or other gods influence her, but she doesn’t want to. All her life, Grace has done what her parents, what God, wanted from her. Now, it’s her turn to make those decisions and what she wants is power. She never wants to be rejected, stepped over, and used, again in her life. Her entire life has been brutal and cruel, but she always thought it was for a good purpose: Jesus. That’s not true. Not anymore. Grace knows the truth and it has released her from this silver cage that she was born into.

It’s been five days of tortuous hell, of being alone and broken and she’s so sick and tired of it. Why won’t anybody see her for how she is? Grace is not good. Not the way they expect her to be, and she can’t be the girl they want. She never was and she never will be.

“We know what you want,” Wiggly taunts. “There’s just a teeny-tiny price to pay.”

“Give us your soul and we’ll give you power beyond belief,” Nibbly finishes and Grace feels the allure glow, starting somewhere deep within her stomach. “Nobody will ever be able to defeat you after that. All you have to do is let us use you as a tether to the human world while having the power of a god in your body.”

She wants it. Every part of her craves that familiar safety, the draw of freedom, the taste of revenge. God doesn’t matter, not here when she has souls that talk to her, offer her the forbidden fruit that she’s been chasing all her life. Grace has been trying to obey her Lord, be the perfect Chasity daughter, and it’s gotten her nothing. For once, she’s being offered something tangible on a silver platter and she’s prepared to take it.

Never again, is she going to allow herself to be thrown around like an object of use to the people around her. No, she’s been doing everything for everyone else her entire life and that’s going to change today. Grace has nobody but herself left and that’s all she can look out for. She’s tired of the pain. Her life has been following a non-existent God and she’s exhausted her faith beyond belief.

Lifting her chin, Grace digs her nails into her pink W.W.J.D bracelet and undoes the clasp to let it fall to the ground as the Lords in Black smile at her, letting her rise to her feet.

“I’ll do it.”

The effect is instant. Nibbly giggles with excitement as the Lords step backwards. The room explodes into color again and suddenly, Grace is on the floor once more, staring up at the ceiling as the Lords in Black cackle around her. Wiggly offers her his hand and she hesitates, before reaching out, surprised at the contact. They’re real, physical beings that she can touch, instead of creatures that are ghost-like.

“Your deal has allowed us to multiply Nibbly’s abilities. We walk amongst land, with you, and through your soul. So long as you live on Earth, so shall we,” he explains, speaking words that she can’t understand as he helps her to her feet. “Now, who’s first on your list for revenge?”

Grace hesitates, guilt flickering through her heart once again. As much as she’s tired of being stepped on, is she really ready for this? Power is one thing; revenge is another.

“How much have you suffered throughout your life?” Blinky asks, his voice ethereal and haunting, digging directly into her soul as if he can see through her body and straight into her heart. “Ridiculed, taunted, insulted, abandoned? How much have you given up for people who refuse to do the same? You don’t deserve that, Grace. Enact revenge. Make them suffer for the way they treated you. Truly, what wrong have you done?”

“I kissed Stephanie Lauter,” she mumbles and she’s met with a look from his glowing yellow eye.

“I repeat. What wrong have you done to deserve this from everyone in the world?”

“God says-“

“God isn’t real, Grace!” Annoyance sneaks into Wiggly’s tone and she flinches at his volume before he settles. “We are. Listen to us. You haven’t done wrong to this world.”

He’s right but the memories sting. Grace has never fit in with the rest of the people around her. She’s too strong-willed, too direct, too annoying, too nerdy, too impulsive, too much for everyone else. Every attempt to be liked has failed, everything she does makes her unlikable. It might be sinful or cruel but she’s sacrificed so much for nothing. For once, the Lords in Black treat her like an equal and she wants to be liked so badly that she gives in.

“You are the first follower that we have had in a long time. You’re special to us, Grace. Allow us to help.”

The gun is in her hands, loaded and ready to be shot. She wants it. She needs it.

“My parents first. Then the school,” she says and they whoop in glee at her proclamation. “But not today. It’s Saturday. Tomorrow morning, they’ll be at church and I want to do it there.”

“Sunday it is,” Wiggly announces. “At the command of our Lady in Black.”

He waves a hand and suddenly, Grace’s clothing transforms. A black skirt twirls around her thighs, shorter than anything else she’s ever worn before. Harsh, jet-black, clunky books appear on her feet, heavy but not weighing her down at all. Her shirt is tight against her skin, soft in feeling and ending just above her hips, a single strap covering one shoulder. It reveals far more of her skin then she’s ever shown, covered by a type of cape made of pure black that seems to suck the light from the room with every movement she makes. The butterfly clips in her hair are replaced with a delicate silver crown that entwines her locks.

Grace Chasity does not wear black. Grace Chasity does not flaunt her skin. But Grace Chasity also does not kiss girls. Grace Chasity does not engage with demonic gods. Grace Chasity is a lot of things that she isn’t right now.

She’s ethereal. She’s majestic. She’s someone more than the repressed, pure, Christian girl. This Grace is no longer a foolish mortal, succumbed to the will of a God that doesn’t exist. No, this Grace is powerful. Gone are the days of a weakling who allows herself to be relentlessly teased and insulted for what she thought was her purpose. What a lie.

“A sister who truly suits us,” he says and she doesn’t understand his meaning but she doesn’t need to. “Hatchetfield will pay for your pain. And then, it is us, who shall rule the world.”