Page 96 of Magnetic God

The words are thick in my throat, and it physically pains me to say them. That mother fucker hurt my sweet Hannah when she was a child?

“It would appear so.” There’s a pause. “So, what are we going to do about it?”

“We?”

“Yes, we. You helped me with the people who hurt Isa. It’s only fitting that I help you.”

I think.

“Let me talk to Hannah. See what she wants me to do.”

He whistles. “Never thought I’d see the day Brooks Henderson would ask someone for their opinion before acting on something.”

I bark out a laugh. “I’ll let you know what she says.”

Ending the call, I lean back on the couch. If what Ace said is true, Pastor Sullivan hurt Hannah. I think back to the bits and pieces of info she told me about her family life. The Pastor was strict, she’d say. Had so many rules that she got out of their house as soon as she could. My chest aches. I don’t want to upset her by bringing up the past, but I need to know. I have to know.

I’m moving before I can think too much about my actions, going upstairs to our room. Hannah is on her side, looking out the window. I’m not sure she even notices me approaching.

I squat so we’re eye level.

“I need to ask you something and I want you to be honest.”

She blinks, as if coming out of a daze. “Is everything okay?”

“That depends on your answer.” Reaching for her hand, I say, “I had Ace look into your stepfather. He found some… questionable things.”

Her face pales, which, honestly, is answer enough, but I need to hear her say it.

“Angel, did that monster ever lay his hands on you?”

She makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters because I’m going to kill him if he did.”

Her eyes widen and she sits. “Brooks, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious, Angel.”

“It was years ago. It doesn’t matter.”

“But he did lay his hands on you, right?”

She pauses for a moment. “Yes.”

“When was the last time?”

“Does it matter?”

“It sure the fuck does.”

She says, “The last time was after my accident, when I was staying with them.”

“What did he do?”

Maybe I’m selfish for making her tell me, but I need to know.

“We were arguing because they wanted me to come to church with them. There was no way I could sit there, knowing people were judging me, so I told him no.” Her throat works as she swallows. “He grabbed my arm, twisting. I pulled, trying to get away, and he let go at the same time. I fell back and hit the wall, and a picture fell from the wall, hitting me in the head.”

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