Page 25 of Sour Layer

My hand trembled as I reached for the woman. Letting out a shaky breath, I rested my palm on her cold dead arm and closed my eyes. Energy flared beneath my hand, arcing like the lightning I can’t control.

The scene hit at once. The woman was covered in blood, running and screaming from the house in the middle of the night. The four girls were in front of her, the oldest leading the way.

The sound behind her grew louder. The noises around her turned deadly. When she was tackled from behind, she fell into the snow. Her head made contact with a rock.

The man rolled her over, and all I caught was a glimpse of his face. A face I’d seen before, only this one was riddled with rage and anger. He picked her up and carried her over his shoulder to the bomb shelter. Climbed down the stairs and tossed her beaten and bloody body onto one of the cots.

“I told you what would happen if you screamed,” he growled at one of the girls who wasn’t his own. He glowered over them. “I told you what I’d do. Now you heathens can all die down here with her.”

He climbed up the stairs as all four girls cowered in the back of the shelter. He stood above, looking down, and then slammed the lid closed. The sound of metal scraping reached my ears.

The Lynnfield woman watched through blurry eyes as her eldest appeared by her side. “Momma, Daddy is going to kill us.”

The Lynnfield woman reached for her daughter and squeezed her arm. “That’s not daddy anymore. You’re in charge. You fight him with every last breath. Promise me.”

Those were the last words before the vision faded into black.

I yanked my hand away and heard the approaching crunch of snow from up above.

“Clark…” I said as I looked up.

My breath caught as I took an instinctual step back. Staring down at me wasn’t Clark or any one of the Bennetts but the psychotic murderer, Mr. Lynnfield. The man I’d claimed was already dead.

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