Chapter 25 The Purity Ball Pt I — Beginning
The photo was still burned into my mind like a brand.
I stood at the entrance of the grand church hall, my white lace dress feeling like chains wrapped around my body. Every breath felt too shallow. My hands trembled as I clutched my small purse, the phone inside it heavy with the threat that could destroy me tonight.
Someone had proof. Someone had captured me at my most vulnerable. And they were waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment during this sacred night to ruin everything.
I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear. But I couldn't. Mom was holding my arm tightly, her face glowing with nervous pride.
"You look like an angel, my baby," she whispered for the hundredth time, squeezing my hand. "Tonight is going to be beautiful. God has great plans for you."
I forced a smile that hurt my face. If only she knew how far from an angel I really was.
The hall was breathtaking in the worst way possible. Crystal chandeliers cast soft golden light over everything. Hundreds of white roses lined the aisles and stage. White drapes flowed from the ceiling like falling snow. Soft hymns played from hidden speakers. Young people in their purest white attire moved around with forced smiles and anxious eyes. Parents watched from the sides like judges waiting for a verdict.
This wasn't just a ball. It was a marketplace. A sacred auction where futures were decided.
Beth spotted me first and rushed over, her pale pink dress swirling around her. She hugged me tightly.
"Abby! You look incredible. Like a real princess. But… your eyes are so red. Have you been crying?"
I shook my head quickly. "Just nervous. First big event as an adult, you know?"
She didn't look convinced, but she smiled anyway. "It's going to be amazing. I heard some people saying the pairings this year might be really special."
Josh appeared moments later, looking handsome and hopeful in his crisp white suit. His face lit up when he saw me.
"Abby… wow. You're stunning," he said softly, offering me his arm like a gentleman. "I'm really glad we were paired during the rehearsal."
I took his arm, feeling another wave of guilt crash over me. Josh was kind. Safe. The kind of boy who would never corner me in bathrooms or make me question my entire faith. And here I was, still aching from another man while standing beside him.
From across the hall, I felt HIS eyes on me.
Eli stood near the front with Pastor Matt, looking every inch the golden prince in his tailored white suit. Our eyes met for one burning second. His expression was unreadable — cold, controlled, distant. The same coldness he had given me after seeing the photo.
My heart twisted painfully. I looked away first.
The ceremony began with a grand processional. Names were called one by one. The tension in the room grew thicker with every pair that stepped forward. I was barely breathing when a warm hand pressed something into my palm from behind — small, folded, deliberate.
I opened it without turning around.
I have the original. Front row. Come find me after the second candle, or everyone sees everything. — A Friend.
My fingers went numb. I closed my fist around the note and kept walking, kept smiling, kept existing in this beautiful, suffocating lie while the words detonated quietly inside my chest. Whoever it was, they were already here. Already watching.
Then Pastor Matt's voice rang out clearly:
"Abigail Thompson…"
I stepped forward on shaky legs.
He smiled warmly. "Paired with… Elijah..."
The entire hall went dead silent for a heartbeat… then exploded into surprised laughter and excited murmurs.
"Oh my!" someone called out.
"What a scared mistake!" an auntie whispered loudly.
"He so loves his son; how nice of him," another man said.
A few people clapped. Someone even whistled.
Pastor Matt laughed heartily, waving his hand. "My apologies, everyone! A little slip of the tongue. I've been thinking about my son too much lately." Then he cleared his voice authoritatively. "Abigail Thompson paired with Joshua Bennett."
The laughter continued, lightening the mood for a moment. Josh stepped up beside me, looking both surprised and quietly pleased. I took his arm again, forcing a smile while my heart threatened to beat out of my chest.
But I saw Eli's face. His jaw was clenched so tightly I thought it might break. His eyes were dark with something dangerous. He didn't laugh with everyone else.
The processional continued. Josh held my hand gently during the slow walk. He whispered sweet, encouraging words. I smiled at him, played the part beautifully — and then Eli was suddenly there.
He appeared at Josh's shoulder with the fluid ease of someone who owned every room he entered. "May I?" he said simply, already reaching for my hand with that practiced, public-facing calm.
Josh blinked, then stepped back with a good-natured nod. "Of course, Brother Eli."
Eli's hand found my waist. We moved together for exactly four bars of music — long enough to be polite, short enough to escape notice. His lips barely moved near my ear.
"Stop looking scared. You're giving us both away." A pause, cold as marble. "And stay away from the men at the front. That's not a request."
"Which men?" I asked.
Then he released me, smiled once for the room's benefit, and was gone, ignoring my questions like he always do.
I stood in the middle of the floor, breathless, with Josh reclaiming my hand and Eli's warning still burning against my skin.
My mind went down the memory lane. There was a girl who stood in this same hall three years ago, who genuinely believed in all of this. Who pressed her palms together and promised God something precious. She thought purity was armour — that if she kept herself clean enough, life would be kind to her in return. I don't know exactly when I stopped being her. I only know I am standing in her dress, wearing her smile, and she would not recognise me at all.
The thought didn't bring guilt anymore. Just a hollow, aching grief.
During a short break between segments, the heavy wooden doors at the back opened again.
The three men in sharp black suits entered. The men Eli had warned me about.
This time, they didn't sit at the back like shadows. They walked straight down the center aisle with calm authority and took the reserved seats at the very front row — directly in front of the stage.
The murmurs in the hall grew louder. People exchanged uneasy glances. Mom's grip on my arm became almost painful.
The silver-haired man settled into his seat, then leaned toward the man beside him. Together, their eyes moved — not to me. To Pastor Matt.
My stomach dropped.
Pastor Matt stood at the front of the stage, oblivious, radiant with authority — and they watched him the way wolves watch something that doesn't yet know it's surrounded.
Then the silver-haired man looked directly at me across the distance and gave a slow, polite smile.
My blood turned to ice.
The note was still crumpled in my fist. Eli's warning still lived in my ear.
They weren't here to observe.
They were here, and the net was wide enough to catch us all.
As the lights dimmed for the next segment, I felt the noose tighten — not just around my neck, but around everyone I loved.
The Purity Ball had only just begun.