Page 2 of Madness Behind the Mask
“Dad,please!”
Two men pin him down because hekeepstrying to curl into a ball. They stretch his arms over his head andkeephis legs straight, opening up his back to Father’s blows. Not allowing him to protect himself in any way. Blood oozes down him in ugly criss-cross gashes that mirror the ones on me.
Luthertwists his head side to side, trying to look at Dadas he begs for mercy.
His screams are thick with snot and pain, and I tremble as I listen to him. Father’s belt whips down on his back,making meflinch a half-second before Uncle David’s bites down into my own flesh.
“Please…”My little brother’scries are weaker now, his words desperate pleas he knows will never be answered.I want to tell him it’s almost over now. To go ahead and drift into unconsciousness.
My own pain pulls at me, wanting to drag me to that sweet surrender. But I won’t go until he does. Won’t leave him to suffer this on his own.
As the belts rain down on us over and over and over again, Luther finallypasses out. Only thesnapof the beltsare heard.Only thethumpingandrippingof flesh.I watch Father hit him a few more times, thenhestopsand looksat me.
His dark steel gaze catches mine, then lifts to Uncle David’s in a silent command. The belt hits me harder.
And harder.
Aiming for the same damn spot.
Again and again until my skin breaks.
Until the muscle beneath is torn.
Until the rib beneath that is broken.
I want to scream.
I want to beg for mercy.
Instead, I hold my father’s gaze.
I am a Shadow, and I know they do this out of love.
My eyes drifting close,I pass out into oblivion.
I wake up in my bed, covered in sweat but with my wounds healed and the pain gone. I open my eyes to the darkness of my shared room and breathe out heavily as the sounds of the belt still make me flinch.
Phantom noises I can’t escape.
So stupid of me.
But despite knowing it’s stupid to be afraid now when the threat is gone, my body still shakes, still trembles, still flinches at every imaginary slap ofUncle David’s belt.
Keeping my eyes wide, I stare at the floral wallpaper decorating the room. The pink flowers are simply gray in the dark, but their familiarity still helps calm me. Father never hits me in here.
Eventually, my pulse calms, and I raisemy hand to my face,tryingto concentrate on the feeling in my fingertips. But they feel the same as they always do – no tingling, no numbness, nofeelingof magic flickering beneath the skin.They’re my usual powerless fingers, and I drop my arm in annoyance.
“Come on,” I growl as I bang my head against my pillow.
“Do you still not have it?” Jade whispers from the other side of our room. She’s the youngest cousin onMama’sside, but she won’t inherit the Shadow magic like I will,Mamahaving married into the family. The darkness hides my cousin’s features, but I can envision her leaning up on one elbow, facing me as herlongblonde hair –so different to my black– hangs in front of her face.
“No,” I groan loudly, then sigh. “Maybe itwill come before tomorrow night.” Before Luther and Iarewhipped againas they try totrigger our ascensions – that moment when we’ll be able to access and control our magic – both our innate power that is personal to us and our family’s genetic shadow magic that gives us our last name.
“Does getting whipped hurt?” Jade asks.
“Of course it does. That’s the point,” I say. “The pain is supposed to release the magic.”
“Why?”
