Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Why would they leave this stuff behind?
Uneasiness crawls through my stomach.
I flip the lid of another gray box on a higher shelf.
The first birth certificate freezes the blood in my veins.
Gideon Killgore.
My older brother. Who ran away without saying goodbye.
I set that one aside and pull out the next.
Joshua Killgore.
My other brother. Who supposedly influenced Gideon to leave. Both gone when Jezzie was so little, I doubt she even remembers them. My father certainly never allowed anyone to utter their names after they left.
A yellow envelope rests at the bottom of the box. With trembling hands, I take it out and set the box back on the shelf.
Fear crackles through my veins as I slide the yellowed certificate out.
Elizabeth Williams.
My mother.
At the bottom of the envelope a few rectangular cards are stuck together. I shake the stiff paper over one of the shelves and the cards flutter and plop onto the metal surface.
My mother’s driver’s license. Social Security cards for my brothers and mother.
My brothers…I could see them leaving this stuff behind. Especially if they left in a hurry.
I’ve tried searching for Gideon and Joshua. Aunt Em hired people to search for them. And we never found a trace of my brothers anywhere.
He killed them.
The truth of it rattles my bones.
Maybe my brothers never abandoned me after all.
I was angry they left me behind. Surface anger. Underneath, even as a kid, I suspected they no longer walked the Earth.
That’s why when Ruth brought me my papers and encouraged me to leave, I did. Even though it meant leaving Jezzie.
Did he kill all of these other people too?
I pick up one of the ID cards—James Lamb. He disagreed with one of my father’s sermons. Not long after, he disappeared from the compound, leaving his wife and kid behind. My father said he wasn’t committed enough.
As I continue shifting through the documents, I encounter other names—both familiar and unfamiliar. Mr. Lamb’s the only person I have a specific memory about.
I stuff my family’s documents into one envelope, fold it in thirds, and shove it in my back pocket.
I know what I have to do now.
Barrels of lye. That’s what I need. My father stored them behind the barn. Kept them for making soap and other farm chores.
I’m about to use it for a much different purpose. Maybe my father did too.
Maybe I’m more like him than I want to admit.
My father’s where I left him. Shackled to the wall. Leaning on it for support, cheek against the cold bricks.
“Wake up.” I grab the bloody whip from the floor and crack it in the air.
He moans and turns his head, fixing me with a bleary-eyed stare.
I snap the envelope free and pull out Gideon’s birth certificate, shoving it right under his nose. “Did you kill Gideon?”
Pain or fear seems to break his stoic expression. He shifts his gaze away. “They were evil, wicked boys. Had the Devil in them.”
“Them?” I pull out Joshua’s birth certificate and hold it in front of his face. “You’re about to find out if there really is a god—although if there is, I suspect you’ll be going in the opposite direction—so come clean now. Unburden yourself,” I add, fighting hard to keep my tone more grave than sarcastic.
“I’ve always done God’s will,” he whispers.
“I’m sure you think so.” I shake the birth certificates in my hand, the thin papers rustling in the dank air. “Speak the truth. Did they really run away?”
“They were stubborn and rebellious.” His voice rises with conviction.
“So, what’d you do, stone them to death?”
“They dishonored us—your mother and me. The Scripture is clear, boy.” His voice trembles with the same righteous indignation that used to spark fear in my chest. “Deuteronomy tells us to purge the evil from our midst. A rebellious son is an abomination in the sight of God. It is my duty as your father to see that His justice is served.”
That’s probably as close to the truth as I’ll ever get out of him.
“What about Mom? She didn’t just up and die one day.” I ask. “What’d she do to deserve your twisted version of ‘justice’?”
Anger ripples over his face. Minutes away from death and he seems to be gaining strength. “The woman who betrays her husband betrays God Himself.” The same imperious tone he used for his lengthy sermons fills his voice. “Scripture demands death for her sin. ‘Both the adulterer and the adulteress must die.’ Elizabeth abandoned her duty to God and to me. Her punishment was just.”
“Bullshit! She never cheated on you. When would she even have the time? If you weren’t working her to death with chores, she couldn’t leave the farm without you glued to her side.”
“There are many ways a woman can abandon her duty to her husband, son.”
“What? What justifies murder? Taking a mother away from her kids? What? She didn’t want to fuck you anymore after you started bringing home teenagers to add to your harem? Was that how she ‘disobeyed’ you?”