by Charity B.
He climbs into the already running car and slams the door. The fumes from the tailpipe puff up in clouds as he backs out of the parking space. Frigid air slices my bones like a blade, causing me to hug my coat tighter. I sigh and head toward the playground to start my mile walk home.
The town of Lettleton is unspectacular in every sense of the word. Even in the summer there’s a gray cast over the town, as if the atmosphere knows how lame it is. I hate it here. I have six years until I can take my sweet Adriel and get the fuck out of this shit town. I’ll earn millions from my photographs and finally make my father proud. I won’t be a disappointment forever.
The truth is, I don’t really know why I do the things I do except it’s what I wanted to do at the time. I don’t have any friends besides my sister, and I guess I just get bored.
Every time the frozen wind blows, it makes breathing impossible. I can’t feel my nose or ears, and my coat pockets do little to warm my fingers. I wasn’t planning on walking through two feet of snow today, so my shoes and socks are soaked all the way through.
When the Courtenay Family Funeral Home sign in front of my house reaches my line of vision, it gives me an extra boost, and my feet move faster.
I know I didn’t beat my father home, but the station wagon isn’t in the driveway, meaning it must already be in the garage. I really want to see Adriel before having to deal with my parents or my Uncle Bennett.
Pushing the trash can against the house where the roof is lowest, I stack a few boxes of empty embalming fluid bottles on top to hoist myself up. My feet are soft against the snowy shingles as I walk to her bedroom window. I push on the glass, groaning when I find it locked.
She’s sitting on the floor playing with her dolls. Her long, pin-straight, raven hair curtains her face as she concentrates on whatever’s in her hand. I tap on the window, and she stands before my fist lifts from the glass.
She was expecting me.
“Thanks,” I tell her, climbing inside.
“You were bad again today,” she says in her high-pitched voice. It’s almost childlike, and I wonder if it will ever soften.
Her pink dress circles around her as she sits back down on the floor with her toys. Kneeling beside her, I watch her wrap a baby blue ribbon around her doll, binding it to a handful of sticks. It must be her newest creation because I’ve never seen it before. The shaved head is from a Barbie, though it’s much too small for the plush body it’s stitched to with cockeyed thread. One of the arms is missing, and the lips have been melted into a pink blob. The other toys, also enhanced by Adriel’s touch, are scattered in a ring like they’re waiting for something.
“Whatcha doin’?”
She doesn’t stop her task of setting the bound doll in the center of the others. “She’s a witch.” I hear a snap as she grins, taking a freshly lit match to her doll. “So, she needs to burn.”
Her soft giggle makes me smile, and I love watching her eyes light up as the fabric of the doll’s body catches fire. She’s had an obsession with the Salem witch trials ever since she learned of them in class.
I push to my feet, peeking my head out of her door before I hurry to the bathroom for a water-filled cup and a wet rag. When I return to her room, I find the ‘witch’ consumed in flames.
The stench of melting plastic fills my nostrils as I pour water on the fire and toss the wet rag over the charred doll corpse.
Shit. She singed her carpet.
“If Mom and Dad find this, tell them it was my idea to burn the doll, okay?”
She tilts her head, her black bangs falling to the side of her forehead as she blinks her sparkling silver eyes. “It wasn’t your idea though.”
She hasn’t seemed to grow up much these past few years. She’s exactly three hundred and sixty-four days younger than me, but sometimes I feel years ahead of her. She should have outgrown the dolls, and her vocabulary hasn’t really matured either. Regardless, her grades are fine, so she’s still only a year beneath me. Her social life, however, is worse than mine.
I brush her black, silky hair over her shoulder. “I’m already in trouble. Why should you be too?”
“Both of you,” my father’s voice booms up the stairs, “get down here.”
Jumping to my feet, I grab her hand as she picks up a My Little Pony with a chopped off tail and a plastic monkey head hot glued in place of its own.
Dad waits at the landing, staring at us as we make our way to meet him. “Adriel, please set the table. Malakai, go downstairs and get your mom.”
I should have known family dinner would be first. Before we deal with anything, we always eat.
“Okay, Daddy,” Adriel complies, squeezing my hand before she lets go.
“Yes, sir.”
As I walk down the hall, I pass the framed needlepoint Ten Commandments hanging next to our family photo. Thou Shall Not Dishonor Thy Father and Thy Mother is written larger than the rest because my parents say it’s the most important one. Follow that, and all the others will fall in to place.
By the time I get to the bottom of the stairs leading to the morgue, I’m glad I’m still wearing my coat. It’s fucking freezing down here.
When I reach the preparation room, I find my mother hunched over, massaging a body as she whispers in urgency. It’s nothing new, the talking to herself. Some people find it odd, but she’s done it for as long as I can remember.
I walk around and look at the man on the embalming table. An older male, probably died of natural causes. She has yet to set his features, so his vacant eyes stare up at me.
Jumping in surprise, she looks up with confusion. “Malakai?”
I’ve gotten used to this too. She needs to confirm it’s me. “Dad says it’s time to eat.”
Continuing to break the rigor mortis, she softly smiles. “I’ll be up in a few minutes, sweetheart.”
With slow steps, I climb back up the stairs and slip into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. Beneath the sink, behind the bottles of toilet and glass cleaner, is one of my knives. My breathing slows just holding it in my hand. Tossing my coat on the floor, I roll up my sleeves and press the blade next to the scars on the inside of my arm. I slice sideways, careful to not go too deep so there’s minimal blood and I don’t do anything fatal. As soon as my skin splits, relief loosens my muscles, and I sigh, watching the red bloom from the wound.
I make four more cuts before cleaning and drying my wrist. After rolling my sleeve down, I walk to the kitchen to find ham and potatoes already on the table. Adriel’s sitting with her hands in her lap, her creation lying beside her plate. I take my place next to her, shifting in my seat at how quiet the room is. The clanging of serving spoons against the dishes is the only sound until my Uncle Bennett pokes his head in the kitchen.
“Good night, family. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
We all turn to tell him goodbye, and I almost ask him to stay for dinner to delay whatever punishment is coming.
My mother arrives minutes later, still smelling of formaldehyde, and sits next to my father.
“Hello. How was everyone’s day?”
Dad’s face falls, but he composes himself quickly. I wish I had a fraction of his self-control.
“Malakai’s behavior has become intolerable.” He scoops potatoes on her plate, barely drizzling gravy over the top. “So tonight, he and Adriel are joining us.”
She freezes, her hands shaking next to her plate. “What did you say?”
He passes the rolls to Adriel. “We’ve been discussing this for months.”
It’s making my hair stand on end trying to imagine what they’re talking about. My mother’s already pale face lightens as she rocks in her chair. “They’re too young. They can’t—”
His fist slams against the table. “That’s enough, Azalea!” He continues through clenched teeth. “You started this. Malakai needs to learn where these sinful decisions are leading him, and I will not give Adriel the chance to go down the same path. Now, we’re finished
discussing it until after dinner.” I take the plate of ham from the table, even though my appetite has suddenly vanished. My father adds, “Adriel, baby girl, will you say grace?”
Nodding her unfailing obedience, she presses her palms together. “Dear Jesus, thank you for this food and for Malakai, Mommy, Daddy and Uncle Bennett. Please help Malakai be more obedient,” I barely peek open an eye to look at her, but hers remain firmly closed, “and please make Ashley Radcliff pay for lifting up my skirt at school today.” I open my eyes all the way and stare at her. Her eyebrows are scrunched with her furious prayer. “Amen.”
I swallow before looking to my parents. My mother takes a bite of potatoes, seemingly oblivious to what her daughter just said, while my father stares at my sister. “She lifted up your dress? In front of people?”
Adriel stabs her fork into the ham and saws her knife across the meat. “Yes. She said I was flat chested and that maybe I was a boy, so she checked.”
My father’s fury burns through the room like a heatwave as Adriel stuffs a bite of ham into her mouth. “That is unacceptable.”
“It’s okay, Daddy. I’m not a little kid like everyone acts like I am. I can take care of myself.”
His mouth raises into the smile he only gives to her. “That’s my girl.”
The rest of dinner continues without any more discussion of school. They drone on about renovations to the church and the supplies my mother needs to restock. When our plates are empty, the energy in the room shifts, causing a weight in the atmosphere and a chill in the temperature.
My father throws his napkin on the table and glances between me and Adriel. “Both of you, go upstairs and change into something you don’t mind getting rid of. Then meet us in the car.”
Adriel picks up her creation which she informed us during dinner was named ‘Ponkey’ and laces her fingers with mine to walk up the steps to our rooms. After I throw on a pair of grass-stained, hole-covered jeans with a threadbare thermal shirt, I meet her back in the hallway.
She’s still carrying Ponkey, wearing a faded, purple dress that’s much too small. Her tights have holes in them, and her black MaryJane’s are scuffed. She looks so pretty. We throw on our coats before she follows me into the garage where our parents wait for us in the car.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I climb into the back of the station wagon. Adriel scoots in behind me, and I buckle my seat belt.
“To the church,” my father responds while reversing in the driveway.
Why the hell are we going to the church at 6 p.m. on a Tuesday night? Adriel’s humming is the only sound during the five-minute drive to First Bethel. It’s dark, and the parking lot is bare when we park at the front entrance.
Grabbing Adriel’s hand, I tug her behind me and follow our parents inside, sighing in relief when the heat of the church lobby touches my face. I hold her hand tighter as we make our way down the hall. I don’t understand what’s going on. What’s all the secrecy about?
The doors to the basement are made of heavy metal, creaking when my dad pushes them open. What the fuck are we doing? There’s nothing down here besides storage and holiday decorations.
We aren’t even halfway down the stairs before I hear a grating sound. I look at Adriel, who seems unaffected by our parents’ strange behavior, still humming to herself. As I step onto the landing, I hold my breath to absorb my surroundings.
Saran wrap covers the floor, the boxes, and a large man bound to a folding table. His attempted fighting causes the metal legs to scratch against the floor through torn holes in the plastic. While he can’t speak, his eyes are wide with rage and his yelling is muffled. Dad walks across the room, grabbing two aluminum chairs before scraping their legs across the cement floor and setting them next to the table.
“Take off your coats and sit.” Adriel obeys without hesitation, but I can’t stop staring at the man struggling in front of me. “Malakai.” My father’s stern voice tugs me into the seat next to my sister. Shrugging off my coat, I look up at my mother who’s nearly gone catatonic, standing there like she’s on pause.
“Who is he?” I ask.
My father rolls over an old AV cart also protected by cellophane. “When you were both very young, your mother received an ability that I believe was given to her by God. Though, I think it would be better if she explained it. Azalea?”
“Hmm?” My mother looks at us as if she’s just realizing we’re here.
Dad presses his lips together, trying to hide his frustration. “Tell them how we got here.”
I glance at Adriel smiling and waving to the man on the table like he’s a friend from her class. Mom’s steps are slow while she wrings her hands, eventually kneeling in front of us.
“I…” Her head shakes which seems to elucidate her. “I do much more than prepare the dead.” She holds my hand, simultaneously giving me the desire to yank away and squeeze back. “They speak to me.”
My mom isn’t the type to joke, and still, I find myself laughing. “What?”
Her grip becomes tight as her eyebrows narrow. “It isn’t funny, Malakai. These people have done atrocious things.” She lets go of my hand to jump up and jam a finger into the man’s stomach, making him groan. “This is Roger Brown. Do you know what he was charged with before he got off on a technicality?” I shake my head, though I don’t think my answer was needed. “Breaking into the homes of elderly, helpless women to rob and rape them. He even killed a couple of them.” My stomach goes sour watching the man’s fear-filled eyes bulge with his stifled screams. “Do you think we should allow him to continue these things?”
Adriel pipes up next to me. “Nuh-uh.” She waves Ponkey around singing, “If you’re bad, you must kneel and pray. For your sins, God will make you pay.”
Sometimes it feels like I’m the only sane one in this family. “No, but isn’t this just as bad?”
“Would you feel that way if it were your mother or sister who was attacked? Or you?” my father asks. I didn’t notice how busy he’s been since my mother started talking. The AV cart is now adorned in what looks like a mix of power tools and my mother’s utensils from the morgue.
My heart pounds, swirling around the nausea in my stomach. Of all the things I could imagine my parents keeping from me, this would never have made the list.
“Do you kill them?”
Mom’s face softens. “Of course we kill them, sweetheart. It’s the only way to guarantee they won’t keep hurting people.”
“Silly,” Adriel giggles.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment when tears roll down my face. While I may have thought about killing people when they pissed me off, this is way too real for me to handle. My father walks over to me, kneeling like my mother did.
“It warms my heart to see you distressed over taking a life, but what we’re doing saves lives, Kai. People like him don’t ever change, they just get better at hiding while leaving a path of destruction in their wake.” He stands and takes my mother’s hand. “His last victim was eighty-five years old. He raped her so badly she had internal damage that could have killed her if he hadn’t beaten her to death with her cane first.”
He pulls my mother to the stairs, and I jump up after them. “Where are you going?!”
“You need to see the evil for yourself,” he says. “I know you will both make the right choice.”
They’re leaving us here?! To do what?
I force my fingers through my hair as they climb the steps. The door closes behind them before the click of the lock stabs my ears. I’m sweating and freezing at the same time when I hear a diluted yell.
I spin around to see Adriel’s tongue sticking out in concentration while she cuts at the man on the table. Ponkey sits on Mr. Brown’s heaving chest as she holds the knife like a crayon, writing on his skin. When I get closer, I see she’s drawing stick figures that I assume to be our family.
Swallowing, I place my hand over hers. “You’re okay with this?”
She slices
out a bow for her stick person’s hair when she says, “Mommy and Daddy told us to. Obeying them is the most important commandment.” Looking up at me with a smile that could light up a midnight sky, she drawls out, “Remember?”
Adriel
13 years old
Malakai is the best brother in the whole wide world. I’ve always thought his sensitivity was beautiful and curious. He acts tough, but I can see the sadness that’s hiding in his eyes. I wish he would be more obedient though because Daddy’s right; if he keeps doing things like fighting and cheating, eventually it will turn into things that will make him evil like the bad man in front of us.
Mommy and Daddy love us. Only, Daddy loves me more, and Mommy loves Kai more. That’s just the way it is. They want what’s best for us, and they know what’s best because God picked them to teach us to be good.
I had no idea they were doing something this holy though. They’re kind of like reverse missionaries. I don’t understand how Malakai can’t see that. All he’s seeing is murder.
Daddy may have been preparing me for this because after we say our prayers and he tucks me in to read me the scriptures, he talks a lot about being born with sinful desires and using them for good. Violence is natural, he told me, but we must use it to honor God. This is what he was talking about. It makes perfect sense to me.
I place the knife on the AV cart and stand on my toes to kiss Malakai on the cheek. “It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll do it.” His nostrils flare as he rips the plastic covering Mr. Brown’s mouth. I gasp. “What are you doing?”
“I want to hear it from him.” Why? He’ll probably lie anyway. He places a hand on either side of Mr. Brown’s head, leaning toward his face. “Did you do what my mom says you did?”
He hawks a loogie on Malakai’s cheek. “You’re all fucking psychotic!”