Madison's muffled pleas hung in the stale air of the house kitchen, a desperate sound that seemed to seep into the walls themselves. Grace moved with methodical precision, gathering containers from cupboards and arranging them on the countertop with an unsettling calm that belied the horror of their purpose.
In Madison's bathroom, her pleas echoed against the tile, becoming something distorted and animal-like. The containers clustered around the sink looked innocuous enough—cups, bowls, pitchers—everyday vessels transformed into instruments of torment by intention alone.
"Blessed are you, Lord," the sisters intoned in perfect unison.
The cold water handle squeaked as it turned, the rush of water into the sink drowning out Madison's cries for a moment. The pipes groaned, old and resistant.
"All-powerful God, the living water of salvation," they continued, their voices flat, devoid of emotion.
Hope filled a cup with water, passing it to Faith with a reverence that suggested ritual rather than cruelty. Their faces remained impassive, as though they were merely performing household chores rather than what was to come.
"Blessed and transformed us."
Faith emerged from the bathroom, cup clutched in white-knuckled hands. Madison's eyes tracked her movement across the bedroom, pupils dilated with terror. She knew what was coming. Faith handed the cup to Grace, their fingers brushing in a moment of sororal communion.
"Grant that when we are sprinkled with this water—"
Grace's hands were unexpected in their strength as they forced Madison's mouth open. Madison gagged reflexively, her body knowing what her mind couldn't process—that breathing would soon become impossible. The water poured down her throat, relentless and cold.
"Or make use of it—"
Back in the bathroom, Hope passed another cup to Faith, then began filling a bowl, the water level rising with terrible patience. Faith left without a word, as though speech outside their shared prayer might break whatever spell allowed them to continue.
"We will be refreshed—"
A large plastic container tilted, water cascading from its mouth in an obscene baptism. Madison fought for air, her lungs burning, water invading spaces meant only for breath.
"Inwardly by the power—"
A large mug filled to the brim, water trembling at the edge, threatening to spill over.
"Of the Holy Spirit—"
Faith handed Grace a bowl of water, their movements choreographed by repetition.
The water found Madison, despite her desperate attempts to evade it, surrounding her and entering her. She inhaled involuntarily, then coughed out a spray that caught the light like diamonds.
"And continue—"
"To walk in the new life—"
Bowl after cup after pitcher filled in the bathroom, an assembly line of purification.
"That we—"
"Received—"
"At Baptism."
Faith wept now, tears mixing with the water she handed to Grace in a pitcher. The contradiction—violence performed through tears—somehow made it worse. The water splashed across Madison's face repeatedly, mercilessly. Her eyes began to roll back, white showing beneath fluttering lids as she gasped, fighting for pockets of air between deluges.
"We ask this in—"
Madison’s consciousness flickered like a candle in the wind, teetering on the brink of being snuffed out—not by darkness, but by something pure—holy water turned weapon in the hands of the devout. But it wasn’t that which severed Grace’s words...
The door didn’t simply open—it exploded inward!
Erik burst into the room with such violence that the wooden slab slammed against the wall, the impact reverberating through the floorboards beneath my feet. The door swung back as if possessed, sealing the room with a definitive crack that felt like the closing of a tomb.
Erik's feet slapped against the water-slicked floor as he barreled through Hope. She stumbled backward, her eyes wide with surprise before the back of her head met the wall with a sickening thud. Her body went slack, folding in on itself as she collapsed to the floor, a marionette with severed strings.
Madison's reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating with recognition and terror. The scream that tore from her throat crashed helplessly against the cloth gag, transforming into something primal and desperate. Faith turned, but too late—Erik was already upon her, his hands like battering rams as he drove her to the ground.
Grace moved with surprising speed, charging at Erik with purpose. The knife in his hand caught the light as he swung it in a vicious arc. Grace ducked beneath the blade, reaching for his wrist, but Erik's other hand connected with her face. The sound was like a wet branch snapping. She flew backward, her body crumpling against the floorboards.
Erik's gaze darted between them—from Grace to Faith to Madison. His breath came in ragged bursts, fogging the air between them. Madison was transfixed, her face a canvas of conflicting emotions: shock bleeding into fear, fear dissolving into confusion, confusion crystallizing into horror.
From the corner of the room, Hope stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, then immediately narrowed in pain. A thin trickle of blood seeped from her hairline, drawing a crimson line down her temple.
“What in the hell is goin' on here!?" Erik's voice cracked, higher than usual, edged with panic.
Faith rose to her feet with uncanny steadiness. Her eyes never left Erik's face as she spoke, her voice eerily calm in the chaos. "I implore you, Lord, to hear my pleas. Embrace the strength of my salvation and shield—"
Grace shifted her weight, muscles tensing as she prepared to lunge. Erik noticed, whipping the knife toward her. The blade trembled in the air between them, catching fragments of light that danced across Grace's face.
"Move another inch, I swear I'll drain you." The words slid out cold and surgical, like a scalpel pressing to skin.
Faith continued, her voice gaining strength. "Embrace the strength of my salvation and shield my head in battle. Do not grant the desires of the wicked. Do not further His wicked scheme."
Erik stepped closer, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight. The knife in his hand seemed to grow larger, more menacing. "Let her go or I'll—!"
Faith cut him off, her voice smooth and sharp: "As for the head of those who surround me, let the evil of their lips cover them."
Madison's sobs punctuated the air, her body thrashing against her restraints. The bed frame groaned in protest, a metallic counterpoint to her muffled cries.
Erik took another step toward Faith, his face contorting with frustration and rage. "Nuff with the preachin'. Last warnin'. I'll—I'll—!"
"Let burning coals fall upon them," Faith continued, her voice rising. "His mischief shall return upon his own head, and his violent dealing shall come down upon his own pate.”
Erik thrust the knife toward Faith, his knuckles white around the handle. "Shut the hell up!"
Faith pressed on, undeterred. "Break thou the body of the iniquitous and evil man. Seek out his wickedness till thou find none."
Their eyes locked in silent combat—Erik's wild and desperate, Faith's unwavering and calm. Something shifted in Erik's expression, a terrible understanding dawning. His lips twisted into a smile that wasn't a smile at all but a grimace of recognition. Something primordial and awful. His eyes narrowed, cold and predatory, like an animal locking onto its prey.
Faith stood her ground, her face a mask of serenity. No fear, no hesitation—just absolute conviction.
The rage in Erik's eyes crystallized into something pure and terrifying. With a roar, he charged at Faith, knife raised high.
Faith closed her eyes, her lips moving in silent prayer.
The sound came first—a sharp, wet crack that didn't belong in the natural world. Erik's ankles gave way beneath him, bending at angles the human body was never meant to achieve. His scream tore through the room, but the knife remained raised, his eyes never leaving Faith as his legs buckled and he crashed to his knees.
Determination etched itself across Erik's face as he tightened his grip on the knife. One hand clutched the weapon while the other clawed at the floor, dragging his broken body closer to Faith.
Another crack split the air—louder this time. Erik’s forearms twisted back, bending at obscene angles, the skin stretched thin and wrong. His bone had pushed through skin, pale and glistening, a jagged edge tearing the air as fresh pain ripped through him. Yet through the pain and the impossible distortion of his limbs, he managed to pull himself upright, balancing on his knees through sheer force of will.
The sound that ripped from Erik's throat wasn't human anymore—it was the cry of something trapped between worlds, something dying and fighting against its fate. He swung his body, using the momentum to drive the knife toward Faith. But as the blade reached the midpoint of its arc, Erik's waist rotated—a complete 180-degree turn that nature never intended. His spine snapped with a sound like a tree being felled, the echo bouncing off the walls of the suddenly silent room.
Erik's body hung suspended in its unnatural contortion, his gaze now fixed on Madison. Something human returned to his eyes in that moment—a flicker of recognition, of love, of regret. A single tear carved a path down his cheek.
"I love you, Maddison" he whispered, the words dying on his lips as his mangled body collapsed to the floor with a dull, final thud.
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the soft, rhythmic drip of water from somewhere in the darkness.
Chapter 36