Page 109 of Beautifully Shattered
Today was Sally’s ritual. Soon it will be my turn.
A chill runs up my spine at the possible meaning of those words, and when my eyes drop to the picture stuck underneath, oxygen gets trapped in my lungs.
The photo shows a little girl, no older than fifteen or sixteen, lying on a table at the church altar. Her dress is hitched up. Her legs spread wide, and a man in a suit is standing between them with a blindfold over his eyes. Pain twistsherface, and pleasure contortshis. There’s no mistaking what’s happening… he’s having sex with her, perhaps taking her virginity with people watching on.
Minister Banes stands in the background, looking on with a pleased, almost proud expression. Behind him, the congregation is gathered, their mouths open like they’re singing… or chanting.
“Please tell me that’s not what I think it is?” Jols whispers, and I shake my head, too stunned to speak and tell her it’s exactly what she thinks it is, so I turn the page, needing more answers.
This time, there are two more pictures staring back at me.
The first is of a man, bare-chested, being anointed with trickles of blood on his chest from a chalice. The picture next to it is of the girl on the table, teetering on the edge with her legs spread wide, and Minister Banes holding the chalice between her thighs…
“Oh my fucking God… is he getting anointed with her hymen blood?” Jols screeches, and all I can do is nod as I read the scripture and my mum’s handwritten thoughts underneath.
“Shebleeds for him, so he may rise through her.”
I’m ready.
What the actual… I shake my head, bile rising in my throat as I shove the scrapbook away across the mattress, hearing it thud to the floor on the other side.
“This is sick. What is this?” I spin, completely freaking out as I face Ringo. “Did my mum grow up in this cult? That’s it, isn’t it? Otherwise, why would there be a photo of her on the Minister’s knee? Is her maiden name really Banes? Please tell me it was just some sick fascination with the cult leader.”
I’m losing it. Spiralling. Shaking my head, my stomach churning as I try to make sense of what this is. Yet as I line up what we just saw in that scrapbook with what happened in that chapel only a few weeks ago, I know the wedding ceremony they wanted me to be a part of was so much more. Something sick and vile.
“Shhhh, Angel.” Ringo tries to soothe me, cupping my face. “Calm down. You’re safe, remember.”
I shake my head. “I might be safe, but Tahli’s not. I need to find her!”
“We’ll find her. I promise,” he rasps, but then he stiffens, his head snapping up like he’s caught a sound, and I force my ears to focus.
That’s when I hear it. A car door slamming shut, right outside.
My eyes go wide, and JD hurries to the window, peering past the drapes.
“There’s a car in the driveway.”
Then, as the last word leaves his mouth, the front door swings open and slams shut with a deafening crack.
21
Trailing behind Ringo with his gun raised, we move in a tight pack towards the sound of someone in the kitchen. The way my heart thrashes has me worried I’m about to have a heart attack, fear coursing through my veins at the possibility of seeing my mother again.
Or worse. Ian Allen.
With a level of stealth I mimic from Ringo, Jols and JD, we slip into the kitchen and my eyes fall on a familiar man.
My dad.
He looks haggard, his greying hair sticking up haphazardly as he unpacks a few grocery items from a shopping bag.
Ringo still has his gun trained on my dad, so I step forward, taking the lead, knowing Ringo has my back if this goes bad.
“Dad.”
My voice is louder than I’d expected, and his eyes snap up, a gasp flying past his lips as he finds me mere feet away.
“Abigail.” He goes to move towards me, but then his gaze flicks to the people at my back, and the guns pointed at him. “Uhhh, sweetheart?”
