Page 75 of Deliverance

“I’m trying to heal you, but you have to do the work! Let go of your sinful ways and accept that you have a sickness!”

Okay, so I know that I said I was playing along, but I can only do so much. The psychopath is completely unhinged. He rages, stomping up and down the length of the room before facing me.

“It looks like we’ll need to take more aggressive measures. Be back here the same time next week with a better goddamn attitude,” he says before cutting the ropes free and leaving the basement.

I push myself out of the chair before falling to my knees. I didn’t realize how weak I am until I tried to stand. I stay on the ground for several seconds, inhaling and exhaling before I find the courage to stand once more.

My clothes are tossed in the corner, and carefully, I slide them on. The cigarette burn on my arm stings so badly and I look at it to notice it’s much deeper than a surface burn. When I slide my shirt on, I hiss a sharp breath before letting a shaky one out.

When I’m finally able to climb the basement stairs up to the main floor, I don’t expect to run into anyone, especially not her. We bump into each other, but I don’t have enough stability to keep myself upright. My feet fail me, and I stumble, heading for the floor when arms catch me just in time.

“Whoa, what’s your problem? Can you not walk or?—”

Bridgette’s words die on her tongue as she looks at me.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

My eyes come up to her, a numbness taking over my body as I just stare. A look of horror washes over Bridgette’s face as she shakes her head.

“Maggie, tell me you’re alright. Tell me you’re not hurt.”

I don’t speak, though. Instead, I just stumble past her, bobbing and weaving through the hallway before making it to my car. I know I shouldn’t drive. He’s never shocked me so much for so long before, and it’s taken a toll. I know I can’t stay here, though. So, I start the car and go slow, making sure to put as much distance between me and this place as possible.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Bridgette

It’s October thirty-first. It’s a day that is widely celebrated all over the country, but one that turns Salem into an absolute shit show. Parades, carnivals, millions of tourists. It’s honestly a fucking nightmare.

Growing up in the Brethren, we didn’t exactly go trick or treating like all the other kids. We weren’t taught that it’s a ‘just for fun’ holiday where we dress up and go door to door for candy. We were taught that it’s the one day a year we are at our most vulnerable. The one day where the evil from the past has a chance to come back. They don’t believe they eradicated all the witches in the trials; that there are still some out there, ready and waiting.

I don’t buy into all of that shit personally, but you’ll never catch me uttering a single word of that. The Brethren very much believe that the trial consisted of demonic witches that needed to be executed to cleanse our town. They believe that their ancestors will come for us in revenge. They believe that to this day, the threat remains. That’s why we are all currently barricaded inside our home, in the safe room in the back of the house, just like we do every October thirty-first.

Except this year, we have a few more people joining us.

When I say safe room, I’m sure you picture a small room. In actuality, it’s a two thousand square foot safe condo hidden behind a bookcase in the upstairs hallway. No windows, no way in or out beside the bookcase. Sounds really safe to me.

It’s not all bad here. There is a bathroom, two bedrooms, a living room with several couches, and a fully equipped kitchen stocked with enough food, water, and booze to last us all a month at least.

Brad and Maggie are playing video games on the couch while my father and Calista have a drink at the bar and me…I’m sitting on a loveseat in Thomas’s lap, practically counting down the minutes until sunrise. From the moment I stepped into the room, he was sitting there, ready and waiting for me. I felt the fear hit me first before accepting defeat.

I felt Brad and Maggie watch me as I made my way across the room to him, and when he patted his lap, I knew what he wanted. My eyes couldn’t help but come to my brother, who shot us a look of disgust before facing the TV. Maggie watched me a little closer, but her expression wasn’t so much a look of disgust as it was…pity. Understanding. Sadness. I didn’t like her looking at me with any of those. I didn’t like her looking at me at all.

Liar.

The hours have ticked by, and thankfully, Thomas has remained occupied on his phone, scrolling and emailing consistently. My eyes grow heavy and I’m ready to pass out, but I don’t dare go lay down in one of the rooms like Calista did. I don’t even want to risk falling asleep on a couch in the living room like Brad and Maggie did hours ago. So, I push myself to stay awake. I feel my eyes begin to flutter shut when a scratchy beard presses against my neck, scraping against the sensitive skin and sending a set of chills racing down my back.

“Want to go lay down, sweet girl?” he rumbles.

My stomach revolts on instinct just hearing his voice. I do my best to muster up a smile as I shake my head.

“I’m not very tired,” I say with a shake of my head.

Those mud brown eyes crinkle as his thin lips form into a smirk.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, his face teasing and playful, but his voice hard and warning.

I’m not sure how to react, so I stay quiet. He pushes me to stand before getting up himself and taking my hand in his. I look down at it in disgust, keeping my eyes on the ground as we pass by my father.

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