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I just have one thing to do and then I can get out. The ghost that lives here, she doesn’t want to hurt me. She doesn’t have anything against me.
She.
Mary or Zoë.
The chair Zoë stood on to hang herself is still in the corner. I look up at the ancient wooden beam. History. History he’s afraid will repeat with his own daughter. With me.
I take a deep breath in of the musty air and hurry to the wall where the picture still hangs askew, the box broken at my feet, letters strewn about. I see the edge of the beaded chain and lift the picture off its nail. It’s only an 8x10 but it’s dusty. The glass is broken and a shard drops to the ground, breaking into two pieces with a light tinkling sound. I set the picture aside and look behind it where someone has carved a small cubby hole into the stone. In that hiding place is what I’d thought was a beaded necklace, but I see now it’s a rosary. And it’s wrapped around several sheets of paper.
Is this why Jericho was here? Have I found what he was looking for?
My hand trembles as I reach for it and I realize the air around me has settled. I lift the papers. They’re torn out of a spiral notebook, the edges uneven.
I unwind the rosary and unfold the sheet. It’s dated March 20 ten years ago. I think at first it might be some sort of love letter but realize quickly it’s not. And I wish it were. Because what I read is chilling.
It’s not addressed to anyone in particular. It just starts.
It’s not right. Not normal.
He comes when everyone is sleeping. He smells like that whiskey he drinks and he’s rough with anger and I’m too scared to move. To make a sound.
He tells me it’s the rule. That girls become women and women are dirty and need to pray for forgiveness to save their souls. I don’t believe him, though. I don’t believe girls or women are dirty. At least I didn’t before. But I still pray. Now I pray for strength to do what I decided I would do because although I’m relieved to have decided I’m still scared. I almost changed my mind, too, when he was away for a few weeks and when he came home, he didn’t come to my room. I thought it was over, and I wouldn’t have to do it again, but I was wrong. It will never be over, and I have to stick with my decision.
When I tried to tell Zeke, he told me to stop being weird. He didn’t understand and it’s too strange to say the words out loud. To say what happens those nights. I feel dirty to think about it. I feel disgusting.
I can’t tell mom. He’ll just hurt her if I do. He told me he would, and he likes hurting her because she’s a filthy woman too. He hates us for being women.
But it will be fine now. It will be over. I decided.
I brought the rope down a few days ago. Brought down my favorite stuffed animal. I know I’m too old for a stuffed bear, but I don’t care.
It started almost one year ago. I was late to develop and when Zeke started to grow taller and stronger and more like a man than a boy, I looked like I was his little sister. Not his twin. I would never be as tall as either of my brothers but that was fine. My mom said she’d developed late too. I remember how much I wanted to hurry things along. Jealous of the girls in my class who already had breasts and shaved their legs and other things. I changed in the bathroom for gym because I was embarrassed of my flat chest and straight body and having no hair there.
Now I wish I’d stayed that way because when I did start to develop, he noticed. I think it’s the first time he noticed me since I was born. He was never affectionate with any of us but at least my brothers served some purpose, especially Jericho. He’s the oldest. His successor. He’s the most like our father and sometimes that side of him scares me, but I have to remember Jericho isn’t our father. He’s kind and sweet and even when he tries to act like dad, as soon as he sees that I’m scared, he’s himself again.
He’s bigger than Zeke but Zeke’s getting there. And they both said they’ll always protect me because being so small I probably need a lot of protecting. I do. They don’t know how much. How right they are. But thing is, neither of them can protect me against him. He’s too wicked. Too clever. Too hateful.
