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She could hardly lift her feet as she shuffled down the corridor. Simon was strong enough to walk on his own now, but she wrapped her arm around his waist anyway. She could feel his whole body sigh, and she sensed the heaviness loaded in that one single breath. Her throat constricted. She bit the inside of her cheek.
Six days. After Chongjin jailors tore him away, after they survived months of separation, the Lord gave her a mere six days. Six days tending to his wounds, soothing his scars, loving him with the healing touch that flowed so readily from her fingertips.
And now it was over. At least with Simon in the general prison cells, she could check on him every few days. But then what? When the National Security agents decided he was strong enough, what would stop them from sending him back to the mines? How could his body survive such abuse? How could her spirit endure losing him again?
Her legs grew heavier with each step. She tried to focus on the verses she learned at the Secret Seminary, but today they were nothing more than empty words. There were no platitudes, no proverbs, no promises to comfort her now. Sometimes she wondered why God reunited them in the first place. Why torment them with a single glimpse of bliss? Even allowing them to die together would have been more merciful.
She didn’t realize how slow their pace had fallen until they both stopped at the same spot. A light buzzed around the corner, the last turn before they reached the cells. She longed to dissolve with him into the shadows forever. “I don’t want to go,” she confessed.
He bent his face down to hers. The lights flickered off, leaving only a high-pitched hum. “I know.” He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her toward his chest.
She took a deep breath, trying to inhale his strength, his nearness. His lips grazed her cheek, and she pulled herself deeper into the shadows, deeper into him. The salty taste of tears lingered on the corner of her mouth. She lifted her chin, knowing his lips would be there waiting. She tried to gasp when he reached down, but it only deepened their kiss.
She was breathless when he lifted his face and cupped her cheeks in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have ...”
She closed her eyes and wrapped both arms around his neck, the fire in her belly urging her closer as she kissed him again. When he pulled away, both their faces were wet from tears. She rested her cheek on his shoulder. The coarse fabric of his prison garment scratched her skin. The light buzzed on once more. She pressed her hand against her temple, which was throbbing in sync with his heart. He took a choppy breath and let it out slowly. Her stomach fell, and she realized it was time.
“I love you,” she breathed. They didn’t look at each other. His lips gently brushed the top of her head. He squeezed her hand once, and she pried herself away from him. She forbid her tears from falling as she watched him walk ahead, and she wondered how such glorious love could flourish alongside such despair.
***
Anything had to be better than solitary confinement.
Simon studied his new cellmates. Some gave him nothing more than a fleeting glance, while a few glared with open suspicion. Others remained frozen in place, statues with only the slightest indication of life.
His lips burned where they had touched hers. He shut his eyes, his gut replaying the dropping sensation he experienced when she kissed him back. The cell reeked, a mixture of human waste and rampant infection, but somewhere in the back of his mind flitted the scent of Mrs. Stern’s roses. As the barred door locked behind him, he kept his eyes warily on the other prisoners.
“Brother Simon?” The voice was hoarse, gravelly. The speaker was short, but his skinniness couldn’t mask his wide, sturdy build. His white hair flopped down in a tangled mess over his brow.
“Mal-Chin?” The name caught in Simon’s throat. He strained to see the back of his old friend’s head where the National Security agent had bashed it in during the raid. “How are you?”
Mal-Chin offered a smile that looked to Simon more like a grimace. “I’m alive.”
“I saw you injured that night. I thought you ... I thought we lost you.”
Mal-Chin closed his eyes for a moment. “I had hoped, Brother. I admit, I had hoped.”
“But you recovered?”
“I recovered. They kept me in underground for a while.” Mal-Chin kept his voice low. “Turns out I didn’t know what they wanted me to know.”
“I was down there, too. Just got out a few days ago.” Simon stretched his legs out, a luxury he had never experienced in his solitary cell. “I got sick, so they brought me to the infirmary.”
“I was there once too. A nurse — pretty little prisoner — she helped me heal up.” Simon stared at his hands and said nothing. Mal-Chin’s voice grew distant. “Tiny wisp of a thing. Tender as an angel.”
Simon swallowed. “How do they treat you here?”
Mal-Chin shrugged. “Can’t complain. Rations are about half what they fed us in the mines, but we sometimes find a rat. Beatings only once or twice a week. I feel like I’m on holiday.” His chuckle quickly morphed into a cough.
Simon didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to tell Mal-Chin about Hannah, but he couldn’t. Not here. The National Security Agency could never learn about their relationship. It was the one thing he could do to keep her safe. He would keep his memories in the most sacred storehouses of his mind, pretending to forget the warmth of her touch, the surge of power that swept over him just a few minutes earlier. His stomach still felt like he was falling.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” Simon finally admitted. Mal-Chin didn’t respond. “I’m glad we’re together.”
***
Hannah’s lips tingled. An electric zing raced up her spine. If she focused hard enough, she could still detect his smell lingering on her clothes. She knew soon the scent would vanish, and she would lose hours of sleep trying to recapture its essence.
Her heart raced, but her body moved as if against a flowing river. Simon was alive, he was out of solitary confinement. The Lord had spared his life — had spared both of their lives — but for what purpose? So they could spend the rest of their time on earth separated by iron bars? When she left the Secret Seminary, she had been ready for anything. She was willing to accept a life without Simon, a life full of danger and sacrifice. She was even prepared to die for the gospel. And then Simon came back, reigniting an impossible, forbidden passion in her heart. And why? Just so he could be ripped away from her once more? Was God punishing her for loving him too much? She had already given up her safety and expectations for any sort of future. Did God expect her to give up Simon just as easily, especially after what they had just shared together?
Things could have been so different. She thought about the day Simon found her in Mrs. Stern’s garden and told her his news. Mr. Stern knew of a Korean-speaking church in the United States that needed a pastor. He thought Simon would be an ideal candidate for the position.
“Are you really thinking of going?” she had asked, amazed he could even fathom serving the Lord anywhere but North Korea.
Simon’s answer had been cryptic. “I wanted to ask your opinion before I made any decisions.”
And like the fool she was, she told him to do whatever God called him to do and promised to pray for him no matter what. Even then, she had noted the disappointment in his eyes, as if he had expected something much more from her. If only they had known what trials awaited them across the border. If only they hadn’t ignored their feelings and concealed the truth even from themselves.
A church in the United States. A congregation to shepherd. Maybe even a family to raise in time. If he had asked her to go with him way back then, would she have said yes? Yes to a life in America, with its fast-food restaurants and skyscrapers? If he told her that he wanted to marry her, would she have followed him? Could she have torn herself away from her dream of returning to her people, her homeland?
It didn’t matter. She sniffed. Regrets were as big a waste as her tears. Hannah bit her lip. She had to seize control of her thoughts. There was no way to change anything. At least now she could visit Simon in the general cells and make sure he was all right. Wasn’t that what she had always wanted — to know he was safe? God had given her that ... and so much more. Her repose with Simon was a blessing she wouldn’t have dared hope for. And now that it was over, she would just have to go on with her duties in the infirmary. She had been at Camp 22 long enough to know life could be horrifically worse.
She would be thankful. She would pray for Simon, treasure his memory, dream about his kiss every single night and every waking moment. And she would remember he was a blessing — a blessing she hadn’t asked for and never did anything to deserve. She swept her eyes over the rows of beds, the patients who would need her care tonight. She had a meaningful calling here, which was more than most prisoners at Camp 22 could say. She swallowed away the lump in her throat, licked her lip, and lifted her chin.
There was work to do.
First, she went to the old man they brought in last night. She hadn’t had a chance to share the gospel with him yet, but she knew from the death rattle in his lungs and the ashen color of his skin that his time was running out. She checked his erratic pulse and begged God to wait just a little longer. Had she spent so much energy taking care of Simon she had neglected those patients who needed her even more? Was that the reason God took him away? Was he just a distraction from her real ministry here in the infirmary?
Hannah leaned down and trickled water from a dropper into the old man’s mouth. It dribbled down his chin. She bit her cheek and wondered if God was angry with her. She glanced over her shoulder. There were two guards in the infirmary. If only they would leave ... Please, she prayed, I only need a few minutes.
One of the guards tossed a clipboard onto a metal tray and strode out. Hope rose in Hannah’s spirit. Maybe God wasn’t disgusted with her after all. Maybe he was giving her another chance to witness to this dying man. She glanced around.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Hannah’s head jerked up at the sound of the nasally whine. She turned to face the large nose of the infirmary’s assistant director and tried to will away her flush. “I was just ...”
He snorted. “I know what you were doing. I also know who you were with just a few minutes ago.”
His leering eyes bored into her. He grabbed her arm and tugged her away from her patient and toward a dark hallway. “Don’t worry.” His mouth curled up in a snarl that chilled her marrow. “I’ll make sure your boyfriend doesn’t know about our time together. These halls aren’t as dark as you’d like to think.”
The assistant director’s nose had a prominent curve at the tip, like the beak of a vulture. Hannah bit her lip to keep it from quivering. She could still see some of the patients’ beds. Surely he wouldn’t hurt her here.
“The Chief Officer of Productivity would be very displeased if he knew about you and your ... friend.”
He flung her to the ground. Hannah shut her eyes. All she wanted was to return to the infirmary. God wouldn’t allow him to harm her, would he?
“There’s one way you could make me forget what I saw and keep your boyfriend out of trouble. Want to guess what it is?” He squatted down beside her and fingered her chin. “Don’t worry.” His breath burned hot like acid on her shoulder. “You’ll like it as much as I will.”
Her whole body tensed, and she imagined an iron cocoon enveloping her, protecting her. Sweat from his stubbly cheeks smeared across her face, and in a moment, his lips were against hers, hard, angry, fierce. Stifling her scream, she tried to push him away, but he dug his fingers into the flesh of her arms. She swallowed down bile. After the kiss, he ran his sleeve across his mouth and stood up. She rolled herself into a ball and covered her face.
“I told you that you’d like it,” he sneered over his shoulder and strode away.
She let out her breath slowly, like the controlled, measured hiss of Mrs. Stern’s tea kettle. She needed a drink, a shower, some way to wash off his filth. A hollow gnawing in the pit of her stomach bent her over when she tried to stand. She kept one hand on the wall as she stumbled along. Back in the infirmary, she swept her gaze over the patients who had no idea what just happened. Her last bit of strength failed her when she saw two prison orderlies bending over the old man. His body was wrapped up in a sheet, and they hefted both ends on their shoulders, letting the corpse sway back and forth between them. She felt her legs start to buckle, and she reached out to lean against the wall.
It was too late.