Warm sunshine filtered through the window, casting a soft glow across the bathroom as Madison stood at the sink, arm raised to wipe tears from her face - though she couldn't be certain if the moisture was from crying or the water she'd splashed to wash away the dirt. Her palms stung where she'd scraped them in the fall. The cold water numbed the pain and replaced it with something that momentarily felt cleaner.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
She raised her head, water dripping from her chin.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound vibrated through the walls, methodical and relentless. Madison grabbed a towel, dried her face with quick, rough motions, and hurried back to her bedroom.
The room that greeted her was wrong—shrouded in a premature dusk that made no sense in the middle of the day. Only the thinnest sliver of natural light seeped around the edges of the window.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Heart hammering, Madison rushed to the light switch and flipped it on. The overhead bulb cast a sickly yellow glow that did nothing to dispel the wrongness. Her gaze traveled to the window, and understanding crashed through her like a wave of ice water.
Plywood. They were covering her windows with plywood.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound that had drawn her attention—a hammer outside driving nails into the plywood and sealing her in. Madison dropped the towel and bolted back to the bathroom.
The light was dimmer here too, the rectangular window already partially blocked by a wooden board. Through the remaining uncovered section, Hope's face appeared, eyes wide and glistening. Her sister's lips formed the words "I'm sorry," though no sound penetrated the glass.
"No! Please, don't!" Madison pressed her palms against the window.
Hope stepped back, disappearing from view. Another board swung upward, blotting out the remaining light. Madison heard Hope whimper, the sound muffled but unmistakable.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
"Please!" Madison's voice broke around the word, but there was no response except the fading sound of footsteps moving away from the house.
She collapsed onto the toilet seat lid, folded in on herself as sobs racked her body. Her face twisted, tears streaming unchecked as her grief gave way to rage. She stared at the blocked window, at the darkness they'd built around her.
Back in her bedroom, Madison stood at the door, pulse racing in her throat. She took several deep breaths, trying to slow the frantic beating of her heart, then reached for the handle. The door swung open before she could touch it.
Hope burst into the room, breathless, her face flushed.
“What the hell was that? How could—" Madison began.
"There's no time for that!" Hope cut her off. "You know I love you, so please be quiet and listen to me."
Madison swallowed her anger and gestured for her to continue.
"Your mom and Grace are out front, discussing how to handle this," Hope said, voice barely above a whisper.
"This?" Madison's voice rose. "I'm a human being! They can't keep me in here!"
"That's why I came back. We need to get you away from this house... from them."
"Then get me out of here. Now!"
"Lower your voice," Hope hissed. "If I knew what to do, would I be asking for ideas? Your mom is too strong, and Grace, she's unpredictable."
"They're both crazy."
"Exactly. Look, when the time is right, you'll know what to—"
Faith’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and uncertain. “When the time is right for what?”
Madison and Hope turned toward the doorway. Faith stood there, one shoulder against the frame, her posture casual in a way that didn't reach her eyes.
"When the time is right, she'll know what to believe, because God will guide her," Hope said without missing a beat. She looked at Madison meaningfully. "She'll see a sign."
Hope's eyes telegraphed a message to Madison: Play along.
Madison nodded, the rage inside her giving way to something colder, more calculating.
"I was lost, but I'm not anymore," she said, her voice a perfect imitation of contrition. "I've been acting up... handling this situation all wrong. I can do better... I'm sorry."
Hope nodded approvingly. "See? No kids, but I can still talk some sense into yours."
"Alright then, thanks," Faith said. "I'll take it from here."
Hope leaned in as if to kiss Madison's cheek, but her lips stopped just short, whispering: "I've got you."
She winked, subtle enough that only Madison would catch it, then walked to the bedroom door. She paused in the threshold, turning back to Faith. "And fix your heater. It's always freezing in your house."
After Hope left, a tear traced its way down Faith's cheek. "You know I love you."
"So this is love?" Madison pointed toward the plywood-covered window.
Tears spilled from Faith's eyes. "You have no idea how much this is tearing me apart. What doing this to you is doing to me."
"Doing to you!" Madison's voice cracked with disbelief.
Faith reached for Madison's hand, but Madison pulled away as if her mother's touch might burn.
"You don't grasp the true meaning of love yet." Faith's voice took on a desperate, preaching quality. "It's not some magical force that makes everything easy. It's not just about kind gestures that show someone cares. It's about how far someone is willing to go to be there for you. Real love means staying loyal, even when things seem hopeless. And I know right now, things seem hopeless. But I promise you, I won't give up. I'll go to the depths of Hell if I have to, and rip you back from this evil."
Madison stepped forward until she could feel her mother's breath on her face. "The only evil I see here is you! Know why Dad left? I may be young, but I understand love. He loved me but couldn't stand you because you're a psychotic, controlling, crazy bitch!"
The slap came fast—a sharp crack of flesh against flesh. Madison's hand flew to her cheek as Faith glared at her, eyes burning with righteous fury.
"'Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right!'" Faith's voice rose to a shout. "Ephesians 6:1-3!"
Something primitive and volcanic erupted inside Madison. A growl tore from her throat as she launched herself at Faith, slapping and clawing. Faith caught her wrists, trying to restrain her.
"You drove Dad away!" Madison screamed. "You ruined my life! You're true evil!"
Madison's fist connected with Faith's jaw. Faith stumbled backward, hand clasped to her face, eyes wide with shock.
“I don’t just hate you. I despise you.” Madison's voice rang out, each word enunciated with icy clarity.
“I’d choose drowning in a lake of fire over staying here another second,” Madison cursed, as Faith turned and walked out, leaving the door partially open.
Madison grabbed the towel from the floor, wrapped it around her fist, and punched the window. Glass shattered, raining down in a deadly constellation. She stood amid the destruction, chest heaving, as Faith reappeared in the doorway.
"What have you done?!" Faith's voice was strangled.
Madison spat at her. "I still can't leave the room!"
"God help you if you—"
"God help you if you think you can lock me in here."
"I am your mother, and you will start obeying me!" Faith stormed to the wall and tore down a poster. "Take down all of this demonic—" She ripped several magazine pages from the wall. "—ungodly—" A boy band poster came down next. "—evil!"
Something in Madison snapped. She rushed toward Faith, snatching a magazine page off the wall before her mother could touch it.
"You want to tear things down, huh?" The calmness in Madison's voice belied the storm inside her. She began tearing pages and posters from the wall. "Is this what you want, Faith?"
Madison reached her desk and hurled the pen jar, which exploded into fragments on the hardwood floor. The desk lamp followed, then the desk itself, overturned with a violent crash. She tore down everything within reach as Faith retreated into the hallway.
Madison slammed the door in her mother's face. Her eyes blazed with fury as she surveyed what remained of her room. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, her expression shifted from anger to something worse—a dawning realization of her reality.
Confusion washed over her as she scanned the wreckage. She began to tremble, collapsing to her knees amid the shattered glass. Tears streamed down her face, hot and relentless.
A shard of glass lay before her—long and sharp as a knife. Madison picked it up, the edges catching the light from the overhead bulb. Tears blurred her vision as she raised the makeshift blade toward her wrist, her hand shaking with indecision.
In that moment, suspended between action and inaction, Madison existed in perfect, terrible clarity.
Chapter 23