Page 118 of Behind the Shadows
Her hands found mine, and I grabbed hers as if they were my only lifeline.
“Go deeper, Kip. What’s the first thing you remember when they took her?”
The flood came before I could brace for it.
Flash.
Screams.
Flash.
A cage.
Flash.
Red hair. Blue eyes. A child.
Flash.
“You’ll forget this, Kip. The Lord demands obedience.”
I started shaking.
“I saw her,” I choked out. “They tossed her in a cage like she was a rag doll. She was only a kid. Red hair. She screamed—and I—I tried?—”
“You did,” Holland said, trembling slightly. “You tried to save me.”
“They dragged me away. Injected me, and said I killed her. They put her necklace in my pocket, told me it was my fault.”
Tears escaped down my face.
“I believed them. I thought I was the monster. I never fought it because I thought I deserved it.”
“You didn’t,” she whispered. “You were just a kid.”
“They made me forget.”
“But you remember now. You remember the truth.”
My fingers dug into the floor. The air turned sharp in my lungs.
“They said God would never forgive me. That pain was proof of devotion. My mother—she carved the sins into my back. Told me if I bled enough, maybe I would be saved, but she didn’t know what I’d become. A monster.”
“You survived,” Holland said, anchoring me with every word. “And now you’re taking it back. It’s okay to open your eyes.”
Holland reached into her bag and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. She didn’t say a word—just placed it in my hands.
A photo. Old, grainy, and torn at the edges.
A room. Gray concrete walls. A metal cage in the center. A figure in the background.
Her.
Me.
My breath left me in a single, violent shudder.
It was a still from a surveillance tape. Dated years ago.
