Page 23 of Wolf

“Were you lost in that trailer park, Daddy?” I ask, biting my lip once the words sail past my lips.

Shoot.

“I don't think I heard you right,” he says carefully, and I turn to him, my chin dipping at his chilly stare.

The problem is, I can’t pretend anymore, and I know in my heart this will only lead to regret but what do I have left but the truth anyway?

“You see, Daddy,” I say, raising my chin. “I believed you when you told me redemption meant covering my arms. That men shouldn't see my hair. That if I prayed hard enough and did as I was told, I would be saved. But none of it was real, was it? You’re no better than the rest of us.”

He grabs my arm, pushing me further from the door. After searching my gaze, he says, “Careful, daughter. You know not what you speak.”

“Don't I? You broke your vows, you—“

“Enough,” he hisses, leaning into me so closely I smell his rancid breath. Wrinkling my nose, I look away, grinding my teeth when he grabs my chin and pulls me back.

“Maybe your sister rubbed off on you. I don't know, but I won’t tolerate your insolence.”

“Which sister, Daddy? Miriam?”

His brows fly over his nose, and he shoves me away before raising his hand, but I don't flinch. I don't even feel. I just meet his treacherous stare, waiting for him to strike me here, in the backyard of his house of god.

His eyes flash before his mouth twists and he drops his hand. We stare at each other silently until he steps past me and inside. With a trickle of unease, I watch him go before walking away.

I have no destination in mind, but anywhere is better than where I am. Anything.

Despite the cool air, sweat itches my back and after a couple of miles, I wander into a play area and sit down on a bench. A couple of children play in the sandbox, their chatter filling the quiet air. Two moms laugh a few feet away before one of them shouts, “Joey, don’t throw the sand.”

Bowing my head, I rub my neck. I’m lost. I always have been, but I’m at a crossroads. I can leave or I can stay.

Every year during spring break, my parents lead a retreat for the younger set of parishioners. There are so few anymore that Daddy despairs for the youth of the community.

This year, I managed to get out of it. Daddy has been downright cold since we squared off on my birthday. Since I’m used to punishment in the form of silence, it rolls off my back.

Strangely, I don’t think Daddy told Mama about my mini-insurrection which is a relief because sometimes her punishments can be far more diabolical.

While Mama rushes around, grabbing the last of what they need for their five-day retreat, I stand by the counter in the kitchen, mentally ticking off everything she barks at me.

“Water the plants in the front. Oh, and the lawn,” she says while I sniffle into a tissue and glance at the hall, longing for my bed.

This cold came out of nowhere but it’s a blessing because Mama decided I should stay home rather than potentially infect anyone at the retreat. I’m sure this was only to prevent more of the people from dropping out next year.

Mercy walks by, her bright hair bouncing in twin braids. Rachel follows, glancing at me sideways before her lips pull into a scowl.

I feel her pain because this is just another week of misery where Mama watches them with an eagle eye and Daddy spouts off the same stuff we hear basically every day.

I’m not sad for the reprieve, that’s for sure.

As soon as they’re out the door, Mama turns to me, and I straighten. When her eyes narrow, I resist the urge to squirm.

“I want it all done before I come back, Lillith Anne.”

“Yes, Mama,” I say.

She eyes me quietly until my palms are sweaty and my heart thumps heavily in my chest. Finally, she’s satisfied and nods before sailing out the door.

Once she’s gone, I sag against the counter and close my eyes.

Why does it feel like she’s always searching for a reason to punish us? It’s not like I’ve ever given her one, well, I hadn’t before I snuck out a couple of times.

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