There’s a flicker of something in his eyes.
“Please, I’m sorry.” Denial isn’t the way to go. But confession might just work. “I sinned. I know that now, I see it. I just…”
I drop my head. The tears that come aren’t all that forced. I’ve had a lot of practice with feeling sorry for myself.
I’ve been doing it my whole life.
I pitied the fact that I had such strict parents. That I could never do all the fun stuff other kids did.
Then I pitied myself because I’d been orphaned by a random twist of fate. That God had let two of his sheep die. Then came Saint Amos, and oh boy did my pity party turn into a rager.
Now this.
I used to challenge the Universe. I’d shout “What else you got?” in my head when I was feeling particularly downtrodden.
But I’ve met a group of men who could have pitied themselves day in and day out. I can’t believe how weak I am, compared to them. How little it took to defeat me.
The attention of one man, when they’ve had to withstand many.
Two days, when they lasted years.
So yeah. I think I can suck it up and play pretend for a while.
“Will you help me, father?”
Gabriel’s chin lifts a little higher. “Help you?” His voice is faint. He frowns, opens his mouth. But I cut him off with a sob that’s not at all feigned.
Every cell in my body is screaming at me to stop, but this is the only way.
That’s how you overcome fear, right? You face it.
I walk up to him, stumbling over the things scattered over the floor, and I put my arms around him, and I hug him hard.
When I close my eyes, I can almost believe it’s my first day at Saint Amos, and he’s just arrived outside my room.
The familiar smell of his fabric softener, his aftershave, him...wafts up to me. When he wraps his arms around me so tight.
“Please, father.” Another sob. “Help me find the light.”
His chest expands as he inhales, and I shiver when he kisses the top of my head.
“Of course, child,” he murmurs.
Hands find my face. He draws back my head and stares down into my eyes. His smile is wide, and warm, and genuine. It shouldn’t, but it lights a candle inside me.
He strokes away a tear with his thumb. “Come. Let’s eat.”
My body is ten pounds lighter as he grabs my hand and laces my fingers with his. I float behind him, barely touching the ground as he leads me down the stairs. I force myself not to look at the front door as we pass it, and my body complies.
A gust of wind slams raindrops hard against a nearby windowpane. And then he turns away from the kitchen.
My hope shatters like a glass trinket hitting a stone floor.
The hand around mine is suddenly too tight. He’s pulling me a little too hard.
“Father—”
I cut off with a pained sound as he yanks me after him. “You want to find the light?” he yells, glancing back at me with wild eyes. “I know just the place.” He turns again, and my heart sinks deep into the churning depths of my stomach when I realize where he’s taking me.
I kick back, scream.
He pulls at me until I’m close, and then grabs me. Slaps a hand over my mouth. All the while still walking toward the door at the end of a long passage.
Hidden away like a nasty secret. Even the keypad beside the door is flat and discrete. You probably wouldn’t see it unless you were close.
Gabriel keys in a combination—so fast, I only catch the first two numbers, 4 and 2. When he opens the thick door, the smell of damp earth and crawling things slams into me.
He slaps a hand against the wall, and the basement light flickers on. It’s not much—a bare bulb that only seems to solidify the shadows into something more sinister than before.
Gabriel brings me in front, an arm around my waist to keep me tight, a hand over my mouth to keep me silent. He forces me down the stairs one at a time. I struggle as much as I can, despite the fact that we could both take a tumble and land up with broken necks.
Especially when the sagging metal frame of my old single bed comes into view. Because then I know a broken neck is the only winning hand in this game.
I’d wondered about the lock on the basement before—the pilot light is down here, so we’d be stuck if he wasn’t around to light it again if it ever went out. But who was I to question Dad’s wisdom? His quirks and his rules? How could I, when Mom didn’t?
I’ve never been down here before. Hell, I wasn’t even allowed in the passage back there. The space is surprisingly small, until I realize the walls are soundproofed. Someone closed up this space on purpose. Turned a massive basement into a much smaller, more intimate space.
Someone? You know exactly who did this.
But my mind rejects the thought.
My old mattress is still on that rusting bed frame. There’s even a sheet over it, but its moth-eaten and stained.
And then I see my old potty trainer.
And then I see the ropes still attached to the bed frame.
I start kicking up my legs, twisting and wriggling, but it doesn’t help. Gabriel holds me with ease. His voice doesn’t even sound strained when he speaks.
“No better place to look for the light,” he murmurs into my ear, “than down here in the dark.”
And then…then I see the video camera.
Chapter Fourteen
Trinity
I wish I knew a bible verse by heart right now. Or lots of them. Then I could choose the perfect one. Something Old Testament about going to hell for your sins.
Probably wouldn’t have helped. I mean, Gabriel’s a priest. He knows the bible back to front, and not one verse ever swayed him toward the light.
He shoves me away from him. My hands fly out and barely catch me against the plastic sheet lining the floor.
I scramble onto my back, ready to kick out if he comes close.
The room is small, claustrophobic even. The bed takes up most of the space. If I can distract him, I can try and get past him and up to the stairs.
Like I haven’t tried that before.
“What do you want?” I try to keep my voice calm in case he lunges at me to keep me quiet. Or maybe it doesn’t matter down here with all this soundproofing.
I’ve certainly never heard sounds coming from the basement. Or had I dismissed them as my imagination?
Gabriel lifts his hands, showing me his palms. As if he wants me to trust him.
What a joke.
“You said you want to find the light.” His voice is tight and unsteady, like he’s barely keeping it under control. “Many boys have found the light down here.”
I shake my head before I can stop.
“You don’t believe me?”
“Dad would never—”
Gabriel’s bitter laugh cuts me off. He walks up to me, dodging effortlessly when I kick. Then he grabs me by the hair and hoists me to my feet, shaking me mercilessly.
His other hand grabs my chin, turning my face and forcing me to look around the small room.
“Who do you think built this place?” he hisses in my ear. “It wasn’t me, child.”
If I could shake my head, I would. The things he’d said after I hobbled up to his room at Saint Amos and told him I had to show him something in the bell tower…