Talia
At sixteen, I lost my soul, and with it, all the true emotions that made me a normal teenage girl.
My faith used to be strong, especially when my father dragged me to church every Sunday after my mother passed.
He said we needed to find Jesus, and that he and my mother had failed us.
The church became my new home, the teachings were the reason I woke up in the morning and prayed every night.
Father Malcolm was a prophet, the spiritual leader of our humble town. And I’ve known him all my life.
The summer I turned sixteen was the summer I turned into a woman, and it didn’t take long for Father Malcom to notice.
He quit treating me like a child and instead, treated me like a lady.
At first, I thought I was special, that I was holier than the others—even holier than his own daughter and his dreadful wife, who didn’t appreciate him the way I did.
He invited me to special prayers, where he would praise and pet me.
And one day he slid into my confessional and started kissing me. His lips were like rapture.
My father would invite his family for gatherings at our estate and would turn a blind eye when Father Malcolm would take me into the woods for more prayers.
I was in love with him. I believed his affections made me invincible, and I worshipped him more than God Himself. Until the day his wife found out, and everything changed.
That was the day I died.
It wasn’t long after I lost myself that I found myself again through the writings of the Codex. And now, I believe scripture is the sole authority for doctrine above all else. Even above the church itself.
Because of scripture, I now serve someone—something else. In the darkness, I found the light, and power lives in chaos. Now I worship death.
Oddly enough, I still have a fascination with life, specifically what makes us alive—thoughts, emotions, reactions under undue stress. Rather than caring about where our soul goes after death, I am fascinated by how people act when faced with their own mortality.
That’s what led me to major in psychology—my desire to learn the intricacies of the human mind.
My passion for it even got me a coveted research job as a sophomore.
My focus being the darker side of human nature—pride, greed, and lust. All the deadly sins that make up Christian theology are, of course, the most interesting.
It’s evening now, and the bright stadium lights blaze over the track and field at the high school where the entire town is present to cheer on Tommy and Remy, the parking lot bustling with pop-up concessions, music blaring from the creaky stands overlooking the field.
Popcorn, drinks, and cotton candy—pink cotton candy being my favorite—are abundant.
Yet, beneath this veneer of joy and festivity, a thick shadow of death looms.
The palpable fear at this stadium is sickeningly sweet as my father and I take a spot in the front row of Remy’s track meet. The boys, who are warming up a few feet away, haven’t noticed me yet.
I’m met with solemn smiles and fearful eyes as I pass by. Everyone already believes either Remy or I killed Daniel.
I hear the whispers of my return among the heartbreak this town is facing tonight. As the eldest daughter and heir to the Vital fortune, there are certain expectations I must meet.
Although the track meet proceeds as scheduled, the breaking news of Father Malcolm’s disappearance and presumed death overshadows the event.
Father Malcolm is the second Shadowface victim in recent weeks, ending years of tranquility when the story was nothing more than a myth.
I was more than delighted to hear about it when I returned with the perfect alibi, considering I arrived after he disappeared from the church.
Tomorrow, at the crack of dawn, they will send out the search party, deep into the woods, but they won’t find him.
My father’s informants already found his body inside that dreadful slaughterhouse outside of town, brutally slashed, lying in a pool of his own blood.
Given the nature of his death and my sordid past, I don’t blame my father for questioning me about it.
I denied it vehemently, of course, since I wasn’t the one who did it.
So, the question is, who did?
I cross my legs and straighten my back, running my hands through my long dark hair, making sure it looks perfect.
Cindy glares at me while her friends console her. I ignore her, grabbing my pocket mirror and applying lipstick. I quite like what I see. My skin is flawless, and the youthful angles of my face. The dark god I now worship smiles on me as I knew he would.
The hippy retreat my father sent me away to was truly a spiritual and emotional experience. They told me to let my burdens go, and so I did.
I mourned him…I swear, I did. I’ve been mourning Daniel’s death from the moment I decided to kill him, which was over two years ago, when my father told me what I was to become. My father was horrified by how I did it, but there are no rules on how to kill, only that it must be done.
Now I see the error of my ways. It’s not the death that’s wrong; it’s that I don’t like getting actual blood on my hands. It’s quite gross.
“Behave yourself, Talia,” my father says under gritted teeth, as if sensing my morbid thoughts. “Her father is missing. The least you can do is acknowledge her.”
I snap my mirror closed and smile at Cindy. Appearances mean everything to my father.
Cindy’s the head cheerleader in Remy’s class, and I’ve been plotting ways to kill her for what she did to me—and everyone else who turned a blind eye to it. Eventually, everyone in this town will bleed…through their blood or spirit, it doesn’t matter to me.
I give him a sweet smile. “There…happy?” He nervously strokes his mustache, the polyester of his suit rustling as a breeze tousles my hair.
He looks at me as if he barely recognizes his little girl, the demon he created through his greed. A flicker of fear crosses his eyes—he knows what I’m truly capable of, even under this facade of designer clothes and flowers in my hair.
I turn my gaze back to Remy and Tommy, who are still doing their warm-ups. I haven’t spoken to Remy since I returned, and I know he’s avoiding me.
I watch the two of them interact…or barely interact. Something is off between them. They are missing the spark that makes them Remy and Tommy. They’re missing that playful banter that used to annoy the hell out of me. They’re acting like they have something to hide.
That dreadful woman from FreshMart yells from behind us, “Come on, boys, make this town proud!”
That catches their attention. My brother turns away—as I suspect, he’s angry with me for making him deal with Daniel’s remains. But what’s surprising is how Tommy also diverts his gaze.
My father’s men also discovered the body of a woman inside the well behind the property, her body covered with dirt, save for strands of her white hair. Lucy says the girl caught my brother and Tommy’s attention while I was away, and they seemed to be obsessed with her.
A turn of events I find incredibly interesting.
I watch the boys now, under the stadium lights, in their moment of glory.
Tommy especially looks guilty as hell—and sexier than sin.
His leg muscles are flexed, his expression focused and intense.
He’s wearing a sweatband, his sandy shaggy hair falling in soft waves.
I can’t tell if this is his usual routine or if he’s nervous, but he’s glistening with sweat.
He’s fidgety, unable to stand still, constantly running his hands through his hair as he paces in front of the crowd.
I don’t know when it happened, when he shifted from being my younger brother’s friend to a man worthy of my affection, but it did. Now, whether he wants it or not, he has my full attention. And I always get what I want.
We began a dangerous game during a visit to my father’s house one morning. He watched me while I was in the shower. I knew he was there, lurking in the hallway, because I left the door open.
An invitation.
I let my towel slip, and our eyes met in the mirror when I got out. I smiled at him, and he stepped inside, not saying anything, but watching me.
That night I decided to kill Daniel and get it over with after months of pondering when I would do it. I knew it was time.
Daniel and I went for a walk after dinner.
And during the walk, he stopped to kiss me, and that’s when I stabbed him.
I have no memory of what happened after, all I saw was blood.
My mind went into a trance-like state, and I didn’t regain consciousness until Remy found me the next morning.
It worked perfectly, knowing that’s the footpath he runs on.
Tommy and I lock eyes, and I smile, but he quickly darts his eyes away. He lines up at the mark, his muscles gleaming, and the horn signals the start of the 100-meter dash.
Not even ten seconds go by and it’s over, and everyone in the stands is on their feet, chanting Tommy’s name.
He peers up at the crowd, directly at me, but he doesn’t wave. He doesn’t smile, just stares. My stomach twinges as heat sears through my veins. There has never been a time when I haven’t been the center of Remy and Tommy’s world, and now at their peak, they won’t even acknowledge me.
I rise as the two of them get swallowed up by the crowd and let them have their moment. My father plans to take them to the Sheffield house and conduct the ceremony before filling up the rest of that well, burying that girl’s body forever.
They have something to do with this…it’s written all over their faces. One of them fell in love and killed that girl, giving her soul to the devil, and I want to know which one it was.