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He reaches down to a bunch of bags by his feet with the gun still pointing at Christopher. Pulling out rope, he begins to wrap it around our ankle chain and then ties us to another beam directly across from the couple.
“Put out your wrists,” Papa demands.
Christopher, who appears stunned as his eyes remain pinned on the innocent couple across the way, puts out his wrists. I do the same and Papa ties us both with the rope. It’s tight and rubs our skin raw almost immediately.
Now we are as trapped as they are.
“First, we punish you,” he says to Christopher. He pulls out a switchblade and opens it to reveal the blade.
“When you weep upon their graves, you may someday be forgiven, but first you must pay your penance.”
Papa shoves us both to the ground where we are sitting among the ancient wooden boards. He takes hold of Christopher’s foot and slashes the bottom of it with the knife.
Christopher closes his eyes and hisses out in pain, but does nothing more to fight it.
Papa slices again, and again. Striping the bottom of Christopher’s foot with one bloody cut after another.
“Thou shall not run again,” Papa Rich says as he reaches for Christopher’s other foot and begins slicing the flesh on that one as well.
Blood trickles down Papa’s wrist as he holds Christopher’s foot up, carving his penance into his body.
I see the pain on Christopher’s face, but he never cries out. He remains stoic in his punishment. And though I want to scream out and beg Papa to stop, I also feel a sense of hope. If this is Christopher’s only punishment, then maybe he will be spared from the pits. Maybe he won’t be sacrificed for our sins. Maybe Papa will have mercy. Maybe Christopher will have to bleed but not stop breathing.
Finally, Papa stops, puts away his bloody switchblade and stands. His dark eyes stare me down. “You’ve been bad, Ember. So very bad. And what happens next is your punishment. It will be your worst discipline yet.”
Now that we are unable to run or attack Papa, he tucks the gun into his belt and walks toward the couple. I watch him as he is careful where he steps because one wrong or careless move and it will be Papa Rich in the acid pit instead of them. I used to hold my breath in the past, fearful that Papa Rich would fall, and I would lose him forever. But now…
Now I watch him in hopes that he will slip.
He needs to join the Devil. His time has come.
God help me, I know his time has come.
“Have no fear,” he says to the couple as he nears. “Either God will guide you to the gates of Heaven, or the Devil will be there to pull you into the depths of Hell. I am not the one to judge. Your maker will do that. Pray that you have done enough good in this world to help make His decision easy.”
Both begin squirming against the ropes and screaming behind the gags. No one faces death with bravery. Everybody I’ve watched fall into the pits have fought and screamed until the very end.
Papa Rich turns and points his finger at Christopher and me. “You both did this. Their deaths are on you. Your hands drip with their blood. May God forgive you.”
“He’s really going to do this,” I hear Christopher say under his breath. “A madman.”
I can only imagine the thoughts and horror going through Christopher’s mind. I still remember the first time I watched someone fall to their death. And though it never gets easier, the one thing that has changed for me is that I know there is nothing I can do to stop it. I’ve begged in the past, swore to do anything I could. I thought I could recite the Bible or try to reach Papa’s heart somehow in the past.
Nothing.
This will happen no matter what we say or do.
Papa pulls out his gun again in case the man or woman get any ideas to try to fight him off as he unfastens the rope. They should fight. They should take the bullet over what will come next. They should choose a fast death over the pits any day, but none of them do. They all comply in some foolish hope that Papa Rich won’t follow through if they just be good. If they do as he asks, he will save them.
They are all wrong.
As the couple stand side by side, Papa Rich removes their gags. He always removes the gags because he likes to hear them beg. He likes to hear them scream as their flesh sizzles from their bones.
“Please,” the man says first. “We’ll leave here and pretend we never came.”
“Don’t do this,” the woman says between sobs. “Please. We won’t say a thing. Just let us go.”
