have some insight for Jessica about the situation but…I suppose nothing could convince her it was the act of an innocent child.”
Hannah gulped. “I never killed a cat,” she repeated.
“I don’t believe you were malicious in the act.” Father Tompkins faced her, his brown eyes exactly like Bart’s. Small but knowing. Certain but…lost. “You found it dying on your front porch; you knew it was sick and wasn’t going to make it, so you put it out of it’s misery. A merciful act, according to your father.”
Rubbing her hands over her arms Hannah was suddenly chilled. There was a flash in her memory of a white kitten on her porch, but she didn’t know why. She couldn’t tell if it was her imagination concocting the image or an actual memory. It felt like the weathered words on a gravestone—something that should have lasted forever but didn’t. Something she could almost understand, but unable to read.
Father Tompkins leaned an arm on the back of the pews, opening up to Hannah. “Your mother knew it wouldn’t be the only time you killed something. I told her that couldn’t be true and now…” He shook his head and inched back on the wood. “I didn’t know what to tell her now.”
Hannah trembled in the pews. She held herself, unable to deny what the preacher was telling her, but unable to agree with it as well. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might give out, or give up. It whispered to her that this was the truth. “Why are you telling me this?”
Unlike Jessica, Hannah didn’t hold any blind trust in people, not even Father Tompkins. And while he had never lied to her, Hannah knew he was capable of it; but this wasn’t a lie.
This was a confession. A confession of fear towards her, a confession that he knew even when she was a child that she was capable of terrible things.
“What I did wasn’t wrong,” Hannah said, standing. “I did what I had to do to protect my friend. I’m sorry somebody had to die, but I’m not sorry I killed that man!”
Father Tompkins flinched back, eyes wide. The words echoed around them like a chorus but when they came back to Hannah she had to cover her mouth. A chill ran through her body, making every hair stand on end.
A footstep drew their attention. They each turned towards the doorway where a group of people stood; among them was Jessica and Jonathan Best. Jonathan shook his head while Jessica clutched at her dress. Her sandy blonde hair was tied back in a bun, like it always was. As soon as Hannah met her eyes they darted away, ashamed of her daughter.
Hannah looked over the few faces that stared at her. Her lips pursed, and that pinch in her chest came back. She resisted wrinkling her nose, because that would only add fuel to the flames that surrounded her. The holy ground she stood on felt tainted, but not by her presence. By theirs.
Head held high, Hannah did her best to walk forward. With each click of her heel on the carpet Hannah felt worse and worse. Her own parents feared her, shunned her. Her best friend refused to talk to her. And now she was certain she was going to become a plague on the town she called home. Maybe she already was; there had been two more deaths after all, ones she was somehow connected to.
It couldn’t have been a coincidence, Hannah thought, that Bart and Dane were each killed after being with her. It wasn’t coincidence that a note was left with Bart; she was the common link between them all.
Somebody was killing on her behalf.
Going to the police with the idea that she could help them catch a killer made Hannah feel hollow. She wanted to stop this person, but having them in police custody made her feel somehow defeated. Like she blinked. But the lessons her father taught her since she was a child commanded her body to go to the station and talk to Martin about what she’d realized, what the officer already
Hannah gulped. “I never killed a cat,” she repeated.
“I don’t believe you were malicious in the act.” Father Tompkins faced her, his brown eyes exactly like Bart’s. Small but knowing. Certain but…lost. “You found it dying on your front porch; you knew it was sick and wasn’t going to make it, so you put it out of it’s misery. A merciful act, according to your father.”
Rubbing her hands over her arms Hannah was suddenly chilled. There was a flash in her memory of a white kitten on her porch, but she didn’t know why. She couldn’t tell if it was her imagination concocting the image or an actual memory. It felt like the weathered words on a gravestone—something that should have lasted forever but didn’t. Something she could almost understand, but unable to read.
Father Tompkins leaned an arm on the back of the pews, opening up to Hannah. “Your mother knew it wouldn’t be the only time you killed something. I told her that couldn’t be true and now…” He shook his head and inched back on the wood. “I didn’t know what to tell her now.”
Hannah trembled in the pews. She held herself, unable to deny what the preacher was telling her, but unable to agree with it as well. Her heart was beating so hard she thought it might give out, or give up. It whispered to her that this was the truth. “Why are you telling me this?”
Unlike Jessica, Hannah didn’t hold any blind trust in people, not even Father Tompkins. And while he had never lied to her, Hannah knew he was capable of it; but this wasn’t a lie.
This was a confession. A confession of fear towards her, a confession that he knew even when she was a child that she was capable of terrible things.
“What I did wasn’t wrong,” Hannah said, standing. “I did what I had to do to protect my friend. I’m sorry somebody had to die, but I’m not sorry I killed that man!”
Father Tompkins flinched back, eyes wide. The words echoed around them like a chorus but when they came back to Hannah she had to cover her mouth. A chill ran through her body, making every hair stand on end.
A footstep drew their attention. They each turned towards the doorway where a group of people stood; among them was Jessica and Jonathan Best. Jonathan shook his head while Jessica clutched at her dress. Her sandy blonde hair was tied back in a bun, like it always was. As soon as Hannah met her eyes they darted away, ashamed of her daughter.
Hannah looked over the few faces that stared at her. Her lips pursed, and that pinch in her chest came back. She resisted wrinkling her nose, because that would only add fuel to the flames that surrounded her. The holy ground she stood on felt tainted, but not by her presence. By theirs.
Head held high, Hannah did her best to walk forward. With each click of her heel on the carpet Hannah felt worse and worse. Her own parents feared her, shunned her. Her best friend refused to talk to her. And now she was certain she was going to become a plague on the town she called home. Maybe she already was; there had been two more deaths after all, ones she was somehow connected to.
It couldn’t have been a coincidence, Hannah thought, that Bart and Dane were each killed after being with her. It wasn’t coincidence that a note was left with Bart; she was the common link between them all.
Somebody was killing on her behalf.
Going to the police with the idea that she could help them catch a killer made Hannah feel hollow. She wanted to stop this person, but having them in police custody made her feel somehow defeated. Like she blinked. But the lessons her father taught her since she was a child commanded her body to go to the station and talk to Martin about what she’d realized, what the officer already
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