Page 52 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice urgent with a bit of whine accenting the words. “Please don’t hate me. I did what I had to do to save you. I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

He puts his hand over my mouth and shakes his head. “Thank you.”

I slam my eyes shut and pull away as shame floods through my veins. “Don’t thank me for this. I killed a man. I took his life, and I—”

His hand covers my mouth again, and when I open my eyes, he’s giving the most serious expression I’ve ever seen. “You saved me. He would have killed me, Miles. He wouldn’t have stopped, no matter what you did. So, yeah, I’m going to thank you.”

I wipe my cheeks with my palms. “We need to call the police. They’ll need to take the . . . they’ll need to take the body.”

“He’s dead?” a voice whispers from the hallway, and when I turn around Sister Matthews is peeking in the room, clinging to the doorframe. My heart slams in my chest, because she heard everything. She’s seen me at my worst. How am I ever supposed to look her in the eyes again?

Sister Matthews makes her way forward slowly, her eyes never leaving her husband’s body. Darren tries to sit up, but he’s having trouble, so I place my hand behind his back and help him. When Sister Matthews reaches her husband, she pulls back her leg and kicks him in the side. She kicks him four more times before stumbling back. Luckily, Mal’s able to catch her before she falls.

“I hope it hurt,” she screams in a voice I’ve never heard before. It’s even more powerful than her battle cry a few moments ago in the hall. “I hope it hurt.” She kicks him again, harder this time, and there’s a cracking sound when her foot connects with his ribcage. She continues to kick the body, putting her whole weight into it, not stopping until Mal steps in.

“JoyAnna,” Mal says, standing beside her. “He’s gone. It’s over.” Her assuring smile must speak to Sister Matthews, because she stops kicking her dead husband, giving Mal her undivided attention.

“He’s gone?” She blinks as if dazed.

“He’s gone. You’re free,” Mal reassures her.

“I was fourteen when my parents gave me to him.” She blinks, looking dazed. “I don’t even know what freedom is.” Sister Matthews stares down at the broken and bloodied body with a look of contempt so strong, you could cut it with a chainsaw. “What abouthim?”

Mentally, I prepare myself for the call I’ll need to make, but I don’t know how to explain what just happened in this house. I know technically I was within my rights to kill the man, but I worry about a lengthy trial. Of the shame it would bring my family’s name, not that there’s much to be proud of to begin with.

I unlock my phone, but I’m only able to press the number nine before Darren’s hand wraps around my wrist and shakes his head.

“No. No police.”

“Dare, we have to—”

He shakes his head again. “Call Meadows.”

chapter nineteen

As soon as I walked into the house, I was attacked. Dad’s truck wasn’t in the driveway, so I assumed that meant he was gone. He must have parked it down the street to give me a false senseof security. After dragging me to my bedroom, my father flung me on the floor, and Pastor Collins from West Clark Apostolic Chapel rose from his seat on my bed like a soul rising for the rapture.

It went on and on, Dad screaming at me and calling me names, Pastor Collins telling me he was going to save me, the way he was unable to save his brother.

I defied them.

I stood my ground and told my father the only demon in our home was him, and then he lunged. The next thing I knew, I woke to the worried face of the man I love. The fear in his eyes was palpable, but my God, his relief was instantaneous. As soon as I called out, “Daddy,” it was like all his worries washed away, like being baptized in my gaze.

My father is dead, though, no great loss there. My mother is inconsolable, and I don’t have it in me to console her. I know she had it rough. I know she’s a victim, same as me, but I also know she’s never once stood up for me. She’s never told my father to stop or shielded me from his wrath. Not even when I was little.

Miles did, though. Miles has shielded me as much as he can, all my life, even to his own detriment. And now I get to repay him by spending the rest of my life at his side.

Daddy has his phone on speaker, and when Meadows answers, I’m assuming he’s going to beg for help. Instead, Miles’ eyebrows scrunch together, and he clenches his jaw.

“Brother Meadows,” Daddy says in a venomous voice I’ve never heard before.

Meadows chuckles which just seems to piss Miles off even more. “What’s up, bro?”

“I am not your bro,” Miles snaps. “I am your pastor.”

“Nah, man. You’re just the means to an end.”

“What does that even mean?” Miles asks, giving me a confused look.

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