Page 18 of Their Will be Done

Keeping us tied up all the time damaged our young bodies.

Bruises became welts.

Welts turned into sores.

I still have kinks in both my ankles where the constant ligature of a too-tight rope altered my bone structure.

They were also instructed to keep our spirits up. Most of our Ghosts liked it when we fought back. But you stop fighting when you lose hope and our Keepers eventually figured that out.

So they made sure there was always a sliver of hope. Just enough to cling onto until our Ghosts’ next visit.

Once a day while we ate, they’d let us out of our bonds. In that hour we’d search every inch of our cage, just in case a Ghost had dropped something, or we’d missed something the thousand previous times we’d searched.

Apollo found a rosary one day. Reuben recognized it as the one his Ghost would wear. We drew straws to see who would keep it.

Rube lost.

Trinity folds her hands in front of her as she waits, making an obvious effort not to look at any of us. Which is probably a good thing, because even Apollo’s put away his toys to watch. And if she can’t feel Cass’s hungry gaze already peeling off that flimsy layer of fabric…

She takes the tumbler from Reuben and downs it in a rush. Her face scrunches up as she fights not to cough. She nods at him and hands back the glass.

“No music,” she says softly, as if to herself.

“You’re boring us,” I tell her, my chair creaking as I shift my weight.

She throws me a panicked look and quickly starts swaying her hips.

“Slower, little girl.”

I love the way her eyes flare when I call her that. But as if she picks up on the fact, she smooths her expression and instead closes her eyes.

A minute later, I bark out, “Enough.”

She stops, her eyes fluttering open as she whirls to face me. “What?”

“You’re terrible,” I tell her, shaking my head. “Cass, give me your belt.”

Her eyes go wide. She holds up her arms, one palm facing me and the other to Cass as he stands and starts taking off his belt. “No. No! I can do better. I just have to—”

“Here, I’ll show you,” Reuben says.

My lips quirk up. God, he certainly took long enough. He’s a clever fucker, but he’s so damn cautious you’d think he was simple.

I light another cigarette. Cass lights a joint. We pass them to each other as Rube gets up. Trinity takes a hurried step back when he looms over her, but then he grabs the back of her neck and hauls her back.

He slides his hand down her shoulder, her arm, and over to her hip. Then he takes her waist in both hands and swivels her hips in a figure eight.

“Loosen up,” he grumbles in his deep voice.

“I’m trying,” she mutters back, staring up at him like she’s wondering when he plans on snapping her neck.

“Close your eyes, if it helps,” he suggests calmly. “Pretend I’m one of those boy band idiots you girls are always crushing on.”

I’m smiling full out now, and it has nothing to do with the whiskey-and-weed concoction wreaking havoc on my brain.

Reuben and Cass were the only two of us that had something resembling a normal childhood after we escaped the Ghost House. I’d fought to keep us together, but we were all from different states. Rube and Cass went to foster homes in West Virginia and Georgia, Apollo back to North Carolina, and I stayed behind in Virginia.

It took years for me to find them again.

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