Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Blair
It seemed I slept better when Enzo was on campus.
Maybe the demon inside him kept all the others out.
As I stepped out of the shower, I could barely keep my eyes open.
Just like the night before, there had been this spine-chilling darkness that seemed to creep out at night.
As I lay in my alcove, I felt eyes on me.
Goose bumps pebbled across my skin, like finger pokes from someone annoying who was trying to get my attention.
Whether that someone was alive or dead, I wasn’t sure.
My body tightened as I grabbed my lotion.
Is it Clarissa? Jett?
Are there spirits in the room with me?
Clarissa had died in this room.
Jumped to her death beside the very bed I slept in.
My father had raised me to believe that the spirits who stayed on Earth instead of passing to whatever other side they were destined for were here to spread evil among humans.
Snorting, I squeezed a dot of lotion into my palm, disbelief settling in that anyone believed him, let alone followed and committed to him. He’d ruled with fear, using it to keep his people obedient.
I wished I’d had a stronger voice back then. More of a backbone.
That voice would’ve told him to go fuck himself.
But got my day in court when I looked him in the eye and told the world what a terrible person he was.
And at that moment, that was when I saw evil.
But it wasn’t from myself. It had been from him.
My limbs felt heavy as my shoulders sagged. I dropped the lotion and slowly slid down the wall, bowing my head as exhaustion got the better of me.
The sudden need for even a few minutes of sleep hit me hard.
Yawning, I rubbed my face as my eyes slowly drifted shut.
And when they did, I was pulled into my personal hell.
“Hi, Mama!” I say, racing toward her with the flowers I picked from the empty field. “I brought these for you. I even tied a string around them!” I hold up my other hand to show the smaller bouquet. “And these are for the baby!”
Finding fun out here, in the middle of nowhere, is hard, so I always have to be creative. I love picking flowers and making toys for the other children out of the sticks I find.
Mama rubs her belly where my baby sister is supposed to be.
Her eyes look cold. Empty. Almost dead-looking.
She snatches the flowers from my hands. “The baby is dead, Blair.” She rips the flowers apart before shoving me away. “She’s dead because of you.”
“What?” I cry out, stuttering the word, grabbing the grass to help pull myself up. “How, Mama? I didn’t do anything to the baby in your belly.”
I look at my father standing beside her, with his usual stern expression.
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, my voice breaking. “I swear it, Papa. I didn’t do anything to the baby.”
Tears slide down my cheeks.
I wipe them with my dirty hands and pluck a tiny dandelion from the grass. I can’t even see Mama’s baby in her belly. How can I hurt her?
One time, while Mama was sleeping, I secretly sang the baby the lullaby I got in trouble for.
But that couldn’t have hurt the baby, right?
Mama points her finger at me before grabbing the crushed flowers and ripping them apart again.
She looks over at my father. “I’m tired of you letting this evil thing live with us,” she screams at him.
“But …” I cry, my lips trembling. “I’m not evil, Mama. I didn’t do anything to the baby. I love the baby!”
“Loved it so much that you killed it!” she shrieks, turning her back to me as she sobs. “Get her out of my sight.”
Papa shoves two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly toward the men across the field. “Fellas! Get over here!” he calls, waving them over.
I scramble back, crawling away from them in fear.
“Don’t try to run now, Blair,” my father warns. “Remember what happened last time you did that.”
As soon as the two other men reach me, they latch their hands on my arms and drag me away. I beg, scream, and apologize for whatever I did wrong.
But I didn’t kill my baby sister.
My father stalks behind us, allowing other men to do his dirty work, like he always does. When I see where they are taking me, I try to wrench myself free.
But they’re stronger.
They’re always stronger.
“Blair, this is for your own good,” my father says when we reach the rickety old wooden shed. He grabs the makeshift handle and opens the door.
The men shove me inside and slam the door shut behind me. I hear the lock click and scream.
I throw myself at the door, pounding on it, but it doesn’t budge.
For as weak as the shed looks, they made sure the lock worked well.
I fall onto the dirty ground and bang my fists against the door. Tears pour down my face so hard that they splash off my lips as I cry.
“Please!” I sob. “I’m so sorry! I never wanted to hurt the baby!”
My cheeks burn from the hot tears. They taste salty against my tongue when they reach my mouth.
I stare up at the small hole near the top of the shed. It’s already getting dark. Nighttime is always the worst.
Still sobbing, I grab the small, tattered blanket from the corner and wrap it around my shaking body. I cry so loud, hoping Mama will hear and come help me.
That anyone will hear and help me.
As the night grows later, I hear the insects chirping and the animals moving outside. Bugs fly through the hole. Once, a bird came in and stayed with me for a while. It let me pet it before it flew back out.
But tonight, there’s nothing.
No animal to soothe me.
No person to help me.
I curl the blanket tighter around my body and stare at the hole where a single star shines through.
Mama said I was evil, but I know one thing.
I’ll never be a mama like her.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sound woke me from my nightmare.
My eyes opened, and my heart raced as the shed disappeared and the bathroom came into sharper focus. It took me a moment to fully return to the reality of where I was.
The door shook as Daphne knocked again.
“Blair! Are you ready to go?” she shouted from the other side.
I drew in a shaky breath while wiping tears from my face. “Yeah,” I said, the word sounding hoarse as it left my mouth. Sniffling, I wiped my eyes and leveled my palm against the wall to lift myself.
As fast as I could, I dressed, shoved my feet into my shoes, and stepped out of the bathroom.
“You okay?” she asked when I came into her view.
“Yeah,” I lied, sniffling as I tucked my chin into my neck. “Just allergies.”
The look she gave me said she didn’t believe me, but she nodded anyway, allowing me to get away with that excuse.
My stomach roiled, but I was grateful she didn’t keep pushing.
We left the dorm, and I forced myself to make small talk as we walked to class.
I took my usual seat in American Gothic Lit, but ten minutes in, the grogginess crept back in. I rested my head on the desk before I could stop myself. My eyelids kept growing heavier, and I didn’t mean to doze off.
The shed door busts open, waking me, and a flashlight shines straight in my face.
“Grab her legs!” a man shouts.
“No!” I scream, clutching my blanket as they drag me out. My dress lifts as branches and rocks scrape against my skin.
They carry me down the dirt trail we use when we gather our drinking water.
“No, no, no,” I cry, fighting to free myself.
“Calm down, girl,” a man warns. His breath reeks like rotten fish.
Papa waits by the river with two other men. Mama stands beside him, the only woman there.
“You know the drill,” Papa says, puffing on a cigar.
They force me into the freezing water, gripping my waist on each side to keep me still, and I scream when they shove my head under.
Bubbles burst from my mouth as I struggle to breathe before they yank me back up.
I take in two gulps of air before they push me under again.
“May our lord reveal the truth,” they chant. “May our lord reveal the truth. Save her soul! Demons be released!”
Their lord is my papa.
He’s their religion.
But me? I know the truth.
He’s no lord.
No god. Just a very bad man.
“All right, that’s enough!” Papa shouts, waving them out of the water as I stand there, shivering.
This is what they do every time.
There’s no real test for me to pass.
It’s all theatrics.
“Take her back to the shed,” Papa instructs. “Hopefully, that got the evil out of her.”
The men bow their heads to him before carrying me back.
After they lock me back inside, I wrap the blanket around my shivering body. My teeth chatter as I curl tighter into myself.
I curse them, wishing I really were evil like they said. Then I can hurt them the same way they hurt me.
“Do you really believe the kid is evil?” one of the men asks outside the shed.
A lighter flicks.
They’re probably smoking, breaking another one of Papa’s rules. He’s the only one allowed to smoke here. He says he gets certain privileges because he’s special.
“Hell no,” the other says with a rough laugh. “Her father is fucked up in the head, but hey, aren’t we all?”
“Man, I think about leaving this place every day.”
“Careful. You remember Ope?”
“Yeah … come to think of it, I haven’t seen Ope in a while.”
“That’s because he and his wife were planning to leave. People are starting to doubt Abraham’s word. He’s starving us here. Making too many rules that are borderline cruel. And now, no one’s seen Ope since.” The man snorts. “Abraham is sleeping with Ope’s wife now.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. She told my wife that Abraham said not to tell anyone.”
“What about this girl?”
“Her mom had a miscarriage. Happens all the time. My wife’s had two. They just needed someone to blame.”
“Damn. Even their own daughter?”
“Kids aren’t always safe with their parents. They say the girl’s evil because her mama’s lost a few babies since she was born.”
I gasp, clapping a hand over my mouth.
The man lets out a long breath. “Truth is, those things happen sometimes.” He lowers his voice, almost like he’s afraid someone might hear. “The universe probably just doesn’t want that bastard raising any more kids.”
“Careful,” the other man warns.
For a moment, neither of them says anything.