Page 118 of Deliver us from Evil

So much blood.

And then the screaming began.

I had to keep them quiet.

I know what happens when kids scream. Adults don’t like it.

Kids are meant to be seen, not heard.

I grabbed two of them, put my hands over their mouths. The third was unconscious on the floor. I don’t even know how that had happened. If I’d done something.

Still don’t.

And that’s how they found us. My foster parents.

Me with an undone fly, their daughters half-unclothed, and I’m holding two of them tight so they can’t scream anymore.

Blood.

Limp bodies.

The mother passed out.

Henry—my foster dad—was holding a gun. At first, I thought they’d just arrived. I couldn’t understand why he’d carry a gun around with him.

But later, when the red haze receded and memories came flooding back, I realized they’d been there long enough to see what was happening and then Henry went to get his gun.

Because I was lost.

Out of my own body.

I didn’t hear them begging with me to let their daughters go.

I just saw the gun. And then I tackled Henry to the ground. I pressed the gun to his head and pulled the trigger, but thank fuck the safety was on so nothing happened.

And I kept pulling that trigger until the police came and arrested me.

Zachary got everything sorted out, of course. Since no one actually died, and he’d offered to pay for Lisa’s plastic surgery—and then some—the charges were eventually dropped.

“I’m sure,” I tell Cass.

“Looks empty anyway,” Apollo says. “Maybe we’re too late.”

We sit in silence for a moment, and then all flinch at the faintpopof gunfire.

“Shooting range,” Zach says.

Me, Cass, and Apollo nod.

And as if that’s the signal, we file out of the car and head for the house.

* * *

“Is that…”Cass points.

I nod my head. “A grave.”

“Is there a…”

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