Page 3 of Scatter the Bones

Loud splashing echoes from the “altar” at the front of the church.

My father’s voice fills the air. “I cast out these demons!”

Memories slice through me like barbed wire as his words slap me in the face.

I close my eyes, forcing the memories of hours of torture away.

Splashing, struggling gasps, and my father’s voice split the air. I open my eyes and edge forward, my eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom.

Only my father’s head and shoulders are visible over the rows of benches.

“Submit and repent your wicked ways!” He’s bent over a large, white, heavy-duty plastic tub—the thick kind of industrial plastic used for the chemicals used to clean farm equipment.

Now, it’s full of what I hope is water. His arm’s plunged in up to the elbow and he’s holding someone’s head below the surface.

Seems the old man’s getting more creative with his torture.

“I cast you out, demons!” His voice is harsh and raw with the same violent fanaticism that filled my childhood.

As I approach, thin legs kick, feet thumping against the floor. Pale arms thrash weakly. Small hands desperately clutch the sides of the tub, fingers slipping against slick plastic.

He yanks whoever it is out of the water by a mass of wet black hair.

“You will obey!” His voice thunders through the air.

I have to stop this.Now.Before he shoves her under the water again.

The girl gasps and screams, clawing at the air and coughing violently as he yanks her backward.

Water cascades over his arms, splashing onto the wood floor. “Are you ready to repent, Jezebel?”

Jezzie. No, no, no.

“Stop!” A raw, broken shout explodes from my chest. Anything to draw his attention away from my sister.

My father’s body jerks at the sound of my voice. He releases Jezzie so fast, her arms splash into the water. Her panicked gaze bounces between our father and me as she scuttles away from the tub.

Across the distance, I meet my father’s cruel gaze. Hate’s aged him more than I expected. Thinning hair and wrinkled skin drooping from his skull. But I’d still recognize him anywhere. As we stare each other down, indignation flares across his evil face.

My finger strokes the trigger.No.A bullet through the heart is too easy. He needs to die much harder.

“Get back here, girl!” he shouts at my sister, pointing to the floor in front of his feet. “You’re not finished.”

I raise the Glock, aiming at his chest. “Yes you are.” My voice and hold on the gun remain steady despite the panic coursing through my veins.

“Leave her alone.”

He tears his gaze away from my sister and stares at me. Surprise flickers over his face, then slowly, recognition seems to wash over him. He stands taller and curls his lips into a familiar sneer.

“And who are you trespassing on my property?”

“You know damn well who I am. Your third son.”

“Jensen’s dead,” he says in a hollow voice.

Choking sobs tear from Jezzie’s throat.

“You’re going to wish you’d killed me when you had the chance,” I promise.

---