Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
THE HEATHEN
It’s an odd feeling when something you’ve wanted for so long is moments away from coming to fruition.
I want it to be over and Jedediah to be dead already, but I’ll pace myself.
He has to suffer the way I have. The way so many innocent children have.
I want to fill him with uncontrollable fear and pain.
We walk into the warehouse where everything has been set up for days. The only missing piece is Jedediah.
Psycho and Reaper drag him into the building kicking and screaming.
When he spots the tall wooden cross, he becomes silent as several of the men assist in chaining his arms and legs to it.
“You cannot kill the son of God. In three days prepare for my resurrection.”
Carter drags his hand down his face with a groan.
“Jesus Christ. First he’s a Prophet, and now he’s the son of God?”
He is far more surprised than I am. Jedediah is a delusional man. A monster that will say and do anything to control his victims.
Bones and Killian bring John Steve in. I can’t help but giggle when I see his wide, cartoon-like eyes.
My mother sits chained to the floor, unable to say a word since they’ve gagged her.
She watches silently, but I can still hear her voice in my head.
That’s the bitch about abuse. It continues in your mind long after you’re removed from it.
Bones nods to Killian.
“We will be outside. If you need anything, give me a shout. No rush. Take as much time as you need.”
I glance between the three people who hurt me more times than I can count. I’ve imagined this a million times, but I have no idea where to start. How do you decide who dies first?
Pointing my finger between the three of them I sing-song, “Eeny meenie, miny, moe.”
Once I make my decision, I ask Killian for help.
“Can you remove her gag?”
He walks over to my mother and yanks the material down to her neck.
Her eyes follow me cautiously, her face turning a pale white as sweat forms on her brows.
She’s been sitting here waiting for several days, likely imagining what will happen to her.
The anticipation must have been agonizing. I hope so.
“Prophetress? Is that what we are calling you now? How did you decide to call yourself that? Walk me through the process.”
She shakes her head as if I’m an idiot.
“I didn’t decide anything. I was chosen by the Lord. You can not appoint yourself a prophet. Only God can grant such a privilege.”
Okay, great. Both of my parents are certifiably insane. I hope this isn’t genetic.
“Do you think it’s odd that God would choose you, of all women? A child abuser? A rapist? That’s weird, right?”
I stare at her, waiting for her response, as I take in so many features like mine. We have the same eyes, blonde hair, even the same cheekbones, but inside, we don’t match. I’ve spent a lot of my life wondering what was wrong with me. How could a mother have so much hatred for her own daughter?
“You were never abused. You’re a liar. Is it so you can con these men? Surely it’s the only way they’d stand by your side and watch you murder innocent people. Your own family.”
Nothing she says should matter, but it does. It’s like a gut punch so hard it robs me of my breath.
“I’m a liar? You never had sex with me? You never forced me to have sex with my own father? So many other men? I imagined all of it?”
Blowing her blonde hair out of her face, she shakes her head.
“Sex is a gift from God. He gifted you to us for Jedediah’s pleasure. When you fought, you were disobeying God's law. Your punishment always came directly from him. Had you been an obedient girl like Abigail, you wouldn’t have had to have been punished the way you were. You brought it on yourself.”
The memory of the day I realized my mother would never save me is like a vicious assault, forcing me back to that place and time.
My mother ties me to the bed and slaps me across the face.
“Stop crying. I don’t want to do this either, but this is what the Prophet wants. This is for him so stop being an ungrateful child and think of someone else for a change.”
She lowers her face between my legs as Jedediah stands beside me, his disgusting penis in his hand.
“Tesoro.” Knox interrupts my memory, and I shake my head trying to clear my thoughts.
“Are you okay?” Carter asks, his eyes on mine, filled with concern.
I nod, knowing he noticed I was having a flashback, they both did. Carter is the one person in this warehouse who knows what it’s like to be forcibly taken back to trauma.
Walking over to the black bag with my supplies, I rifle through it while deciding what I want to use on her.
Plastic bags, knives, a torch, nails, a hammer, cattle prods, and scissors.
The items are endless and exciting. I requested a long list of items so I’d have options.
You never know in the heat of the moment what you’ll want to do.
I considered crucifying my mother but decided against it.
A girl has the right to change her mind.
Variety is, after all, the spice of life.
Her death though? That's still happening.
Grabbing the torch and flame-resistant gloves, I move back to her with a grin on my face.
I set the torch on the ground at my feet and grab her robe on either side, yanking it open.
After I put the gloves on, I grab one of my crosses and pick up the torch.
Holding the cross upside down against her flesh, I apply the flame from the torch to the metal.
Her mouth opens wide as she tries to scream, but is met with silence.
A thrill runs down my spine as I realize she’s too scared to make a sound.
Her bottom lip trembles as tears run down her cheeks.
Glancing at the other two, I spot their closed eyes, and I don’t like it.
“Open your eyes. You will watch and wonder if your last moments will resemble hers.”
I stare at Jedediah as he opens his mouth to speak, his limbs trembling against the wood.
“Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”
“Well, at least he stays in character.” Carter says.
I glance at him, and how pathetic he looks now. When I was a girl, I thought he was strong but now I see him for what he is. A weak disgusting old man.
“Hush up, Jed. Your turn is coming. I promise.”
The sound of his cries mimic mine as a little girl. I was helpless as he is now. But not anymore. It’s finally time. Vengeance is mine. Retribution is now.