Page 4 of Among the Sins of my Father

But I don’t. I put my back to the door and slide down until I reach the ground. And it is there I fall asleep, the nightmares kept at bay by the monster at my back.

I’m sore when I wake. My joints are stiff, my bones cold. The house breathes and sighs as I make my way back to the stairs. The moon is lower in the sky now, almost dipping out of sight behind the trees which sway in the breeze. I can just make out the black shapes of the swans floating on the surface of the water out of the window. They have no idea of the turmoil inside the Sanctuary, of the lost woman now found.

My bed beckons but instead of answering its call, I change into my swimsuit and head down to the pool. I watch the sky turn from dark to light as I float, imagining myself as unaffected as the swans.

It feels as though I could walk around the Sanctuary and not see another soul, such is the extent of the empty and lonely feeling inside me. I feel as though a part of me is missing. No, not missing. A part of me has been torn away, despite my efforts to keep it. It’s like it’s been wrenched from my hands, pried from my fingers, ripped from my chest.

And that’s how I spend the rest of the day. Alone. Isolated. Trapped by the morbidity of my own thoughts.

Because although I’m not crippled by flashes, I still can’t get the memory of what I witnessed out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about Mary. I can’t stop wondering where Dominic is. I can’t stop seeing Keating’s blood on the carpet.

My ears strain for the sound of sirens.

My heart beats in fearful anticipation of the truth coming out.

A woman begged me to save her. And I did nothing.

I don’t bother drying myself when I emerge from the water. I walk through the hallways, leaving wet footprints in my wake. At dinner time, I drag myself downstairs, preparing to face them. Him. Her.

I’m the first one there, so I pull out a chair and sink into it, grateful for the extra moments of time to prepare myself. I haven’t seen Jericho since the night before. He’s been busy caring for Hope. As he should. But only seconds later, the door opens and they both walk in.

Jericho’s gaze zeros in on mine so I drop my eyes, and stare at a glass of water. I don’t look up even as Hope settles herself opposite me and Jericho takes his usual seat at the head of the table. There’s a nervous energy about Hope. Her hand floats about her face, touching her cheeks, her chin, pushing stray strands of hair behind her ear. Her eyes keep darting to the kitchen door. I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know what to say to either of them. How do you greet someone who spent years in captivity at the hands of your father?

“Mrs Bellamy will bring her in soon.” Jericho reaches over and covers Hope’s hand with his own. My eyes get stuck on their connection, only lifting when Jericho clears his throat.

“Hope, this is Berkley.”

I offer her a wobbly smile and she offers me one back. There’s a question in her eyes. She wants to know who I am, why I’m here, but Jericho doesn’t offer any more information. When the kitchen door swings open and Ette walks in, hyperactively chatting away to Mrs Bellamy, Hope stands abruptly, knocking her chair to the ground.

Her eyes well with tears as they scan over her daughter hungrily, drinking in the sight of her. Ette stops walking and stares openly at Hope.

“Who are you?” she asks, a frown pressing between her brows.

“Ette,” Jericho walks over, crouching in front of her. “You know how I told you I’d find your mother and bring her home?”

Ette nods solemnly, looking skeptically between Jericho and Hope. “She’s my mother?” she asks matter-of-factly.

Hope holds out one hand, stretching it toward her daughter. “Odette,” she says, her voice breaking.

“No one calls me that,” Ette replies sharply.

Hope swallows. Mrs Bellamy nods to Jericho and disappears through the kitchen door. I want to follow her. I don’t belong here.

“Ette,” Jericho’s tone is a warning, but Hope steps in front of him and crouches down.

“You don’t remember me?”

Ette shakes her head.

“That’s okay, we can get to know each other again. There’s plenty of time for that now.”

“Are you staying with us?”

Hope nods. A smile stretches over her face. “If that’s okay with you.”

Ette shrugs. “Well, we do have lots of rooms.”

Hope laughs. It’s a carefree laugh but the end of it is cut off by a choked sob. Ette strides past her, heading toward the table.

---