Page 23 of Shadow

“Yeah. Just wished the caller hadn’t hung up. He sounded so lost, almost desperate.”

“You can’t help them all.”

I knew he was right. I could only help those who wanted my help. I wasn’t a licensed therapist or even a counselor. I was just a radio host who tried to give the best advice I could. Whether it helped or not, at least I listened and tried to help.

Chapter Five

Shadow

Why the fuck did I do that?

Sitting on the back deck in my lounger listening to her speak, I couldn’t help myself. I needed to hear what she really sounded like. When I called, I planned on hanging up right away. But before I knew what I was doing, I blurted out that damn question. Who was I to question what she believed in? Everything I once believed was total bullshit.

Raised Catholic I knew if I ever went to confession, the priest would damn my soul to hell. I was a murderer. Hell, one of the damn commandments actually stated, “Thou shall not kill.”

There weren’t enough Hail Mary’s to wipe my slate clean.

Not that I was looking for absolution or anything.

I just wanted to sleep without nightmares. I wanted to have one day where I didn’t have a fucking panic attack.

I just wanted one blissfully normal day.

“You like her.”

My head snapped up, and I spotted Faith leaning against the door. Wearing her fluffy pink pajamas and a cup of hot tea in her hands, my sister just stood there looking out over the vast landscape.

“You should be asleep.”

My sister turned to look at me. I could see the redness of her eyes, the worry etched on her face. My sister looked exhausted, worn out, tired. “Had a feeling you’d be out here listening to her. That’s all you’ve been doing since you’ve arrived.”

Funny, I could say the same thing about her, only her vice seemed to be the greenhouse. This was the first time since I came to visit that I saw Faith out of the greenhouse other than to eat with her sisters.

“Come sit with me.”

“I need to get back to the greenhouse. I have a new plant getting ready to bloom.”

“The plant can wait, Faith. Sit,” I said gently but forcefully, scooting over, invitingly.

I waited patiently for her to decide.

When she did, I felt relief when she walked over and placed her teacup on the table next to me. Scooting over, I opened my arms as my sister sat beside me, snuggling close. Wrapping my arms around her, we laid there in the lounger, just looking at the night sky.

“I see him when I sleep, Zeke,” she barely whispered into the night.

Closing my eyes, I held her to me protectively.

Faith never talked about Malachi.

Never.

When Dad and Shirley realized what Malachi had done, they whisked the girls away. They did everything they could to help. Therapists, doctors, support groups, anything Faith or Hope needed.

Over time, Hope seemed to move on from what our brother did, but Faith, well, she was different. She never recovered.

Faith received the brunt of Malachi’s evilness. What our brother did to her was beyond unimaginable. There were times I still had a hard time reconciling how our own brother could do that to our sister. In the end, it boiled down to Malachi was a sick individual.

A serpent in our own family.

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