Page 64 of Among the Sins of my Father

“You don’t have to hide your anguish around me. You can be yourself. You can let it all out. Just rein it in tonight, okay? If they are the ones who have taken them, we’ll make them pay, okay?”

Jericho nods and pulls me to him quickly, squeezing me tightly.

We have been bouncing between each other. At times he’s the one comforting me, talking me off the precipice of insanity. Other times, like now, I’m the one trying to placate him.

His jaw is locked tight when he releases me. He turns to walk out of the gym but I stop him.

“How’s Gideon?”

Jericho lets out a snort of air. I’m not sure if it’s one of annoyance or resignation. “I don’t know. He won’t talk to me.”

I lay my hand on his arm. He stares at it as though it’s a foreign object he hasn’t seen before. “He’ll come around.”

The look Jericho gives me is cold. I know I haven’t seen him in years. I know we’re both different from the naïve kids who got married all that time ago, but the look in his eyes right now is like nothing I’ve seen before. There’s a darkness there which makes me shudder. It’s as though he’s given up. It’s as though his need for revenge has consumed him.

“Jericho?” I say his name because I don’t know what else to say. It’s like there is a dark cloud slowly overtaking him, threatening to devour him. “You will get her back.”

For a moment, I imagine I see a tear in his eye, but then he shakes, ridding himself of my hand on his arm and the wall of darkness comes crashing down.

“I’ve got to get ready,” he says. Then he stalks from the room, his shoulders weighted, his steps heavy.

I spend the rest of the evening aimlessly wandering until the sun sets and the shadows of the house push me back to my room. There is a ledge below my window. If I climb outside and hold tight as I walk down the slope of the roof, I can sit there and look out over the world. It’s my favorite place at the Sanctuary. There’s something both peaceful and depressing about it. So that’s where I go.

I’ve never considered giving up before. Not when faced with the cruelty of men. Not when faced with the ever-dwindling hope of freedom. Not when pain and suffering afflicted me. But now, facing the loss of her, of my daughter, well, I’ve never known a feeling like this.

Even though it is my name, Odette has always been my hope. In my darkest hours, I’d allow myself to think of her. To hold onto the fact that she was okay, that she was living a life I couldn’t. It made it bearable.

And now she’s gone.

The graveled driveway lies below. It’s as though I can picture myself lying there, legs broken, blood pooling from my head. There is something almost poetic about it. As though it’s a memory rather than a premonition. Of course, I will not do it. I will keep fighting because that’s what I’ve always done.

I think back over the first few weeks of my freedom and curse myself for allowing the anger I felt to taint the time I had with her. I’d foolishly assumed we’d have a lifetime together, that my life of captivity was over. But even though my monster no longer cages me, he’s still found a way to hold my chains.

I try to keep my despair hidden from the others. Especially Jericho. In front of him, I act calm and collected. Because I have to. If she has been taken by the Gormans like he suspects, they also have Atterton. And I know him. I know his level of cruelty. I will not provoke him unnecessarily. I know how to bite back the urge for revenge. I know how to bide my time.

I only wish they’d taken me instead of Ette. Maybe then I’d have peace. Maybe this electrified tension inside me would be quelled. She is the only innocent left in all this. She is the only one worth protecting. And I failed her.

At nights, I imagine kneeling before him and looking deep into his eyes as the life drains from his body. And with God as my witness, if he’s placed a hand on my daughter, he will face death.

The night has already bloomed. The moon is just a sliver in the sky. Dark clouds huddle around it as though searching for warmth. A breeze sends ripples across the water of the pond and the swans are hiding under the branches of the weeping willows, forewarning of the storm to come. Rain looms, held back by an invisible force, waiting for release.

The party, or whatever they call these gatherings of Jericho’s, has already begun. Car upon car is parked in the circular driveway below. Men were shown inside, through the entrance to the ballroom, by pretty girls with fake smiles.

As the first drop of rain falls, I reluctantly give up my perch on the ledge and climb back up and inside my window. Both Jericho and Barrett warned me to stay out of sight tonight, but I am sick of men telling me what to do.

My footsteps echo through the empty passages of the Sanctuary. I pass through the dining room, through the kitchen and outside. If I wander around the side of the building, I’ll be able to peer in the windows, the darkness of the night keeping me hidden from prying eyes.

The glowing windows shine with secrets. Inside, the ballroom is abuzz with commotion. There’s a roulette table with men in tuxedos crowded around it, watching the colors spin. Men are seated at blackjack and baccarat tables, their eyes eager and hopeful. At the back of the hall, a woman is leaning into a microphone, the soulful vibrations of her voice seeping through the glass. Smoke swirls, rising to the ceiling. The chandelier shimmers and flickers as though lit by candles.

And in the centre of the room is the poker table. The eyes of the men seated around it are distrusting and suspicious. It is there that Jericho, Michael and Mr Gorman have chosen to take their stance.

Michael and Jericho sit opposite each other, their eyes locked in silent battle. Michael looks a lot like his father, although it’s only his father’s mouth that’s curved with mirth. He’s loud, bellowing for drinks and throwing Black Swan poker chips into the centre of the table with wild abandon. He laughs at one stage, tossing back his head in glee and the sound causes me to freeze. I know that voice. I’ve heard it before.

Keep fighting. It makes me hard.

I swallow back the panic.

He was there. He was there with Dominic.

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