Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

"What in tarnation are you talking about, girl?" He stepped closer, his eyes scanning me critically. I held my soft smile. "What's wrong with you, Lillian? Don't you know what terrible thing you did and what terrible thing happened? How can you stand there with that silly grin on your face?"
    "I'm sorry, Papa," I said. "I can't help but be happy. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"
    "Not for the Thompsons it isn't. This is the darkest day of William Thompson's life, the day he lost his only son, and I know what it feels like not having a son to inherit your family name and your land. Now wipe that smile off your face," Papa ordered, but I couldn't do it. He stepped forward and slapped me so hard my head went to my shoulder, but my smile didn't fade. "Stop it!" he said. He slapped me again, this time sending me to the floor. It hurt, stung and ached. My eyes spun and I was dizzy, but I looked up at him, still smiling.
    "It's too nice a day to be unhappy, Papa. Can't I go out, please? I want to take a nice walk and listen to the birds and see the sky and the trees. I'll be good. I promise."
    "Don't you hear what I'm saying?" he roared, standing over me. "Don't you know what you did when you let that boy climb up here?" He straightened out his arm and pointed to the window. "He climbed out that window and fell all the way to his death. His neck's broke. That boy's dead. He's dead, Lillian! God's teeth," Papa declared. "Don't tell me you're going to become as loony as Georgia now. I won't have it!"
    He reached down and seized me by my hair, lifting me to my feet. The pain made me scream. Then he marched me to the window.
    "Look out there," he said, pressing my face to the pane. "Go on, look out. Who was there last night? Who? Talk. Tell me right now or so help me, Lillian, I'll strip you naked and whip you until you either die or tell me. Who?"
    He held my head so I couldn't look away and for a moment I saw Niles's face gazing in at me, his smile wide, his eyes impish.
    "Niles," I said. "Niles was there."
    "That's right and then he left and tried climbing down, only the pipe give way on him and he fell. You know what happened to him then, don't you? You saw the body, Lillian. Vera told me you did."
    I shook my head. "No," I said.
    "Yes, yes, yes," Papa pounded. "It's the Thompson boy who lay dead there all night until Charles found him in the morning. The Thompson boy. Say it, damn you to hell. Say it. Niles Thompson is dead. Say it."
    My heart was a wild, frantic animal in my chest, thudding hard against my ribs, screaming and wanting to get out. I started to cry, silently at first, the tears just streaming down my cheeks. Then my shoulders shook and I felt my stomach folding in, my legs softening, but Papa held me firmly in his grip.
    "Say it!" he screamed in my ear. "Who's dead? Who?"
    The word came up slowly out of my throat like a cherry pit I had nearly swallowed and had to spit out. "Niles," I muttered.
    "Who?"
    "Niles. Oh God, no. Niles."
    Papa released me and I crumpled at his feet. He stood there looking down at me.
    "I'm sure you're lying about what went on here between you and him, too," he said, nodding. "I'll drive the devil out of your soul," Papa muttered. "I promise, I'll drive him out. We will start your penance today." He pivoted and marched to the door. When he opened it, he turned back.
    "Emily and I," he declared, "will drive the devil out. So help me God."
    He left me sobbing on the floor.
     
    I lay there for hours, my ear to the floor, listening to the sounds below, hearing the muffled voices and the movements, feeling the vibrations. I imagined I was a fetus, still in her mother's womb, her ear against the membrane wall, picking up the sounds of the world that awaited, every syllable, every tap, every note something to wonder about; only unlike a fetus, I had memories. I knew that the tinkle of a dish or a glass meant the dinner table was being set, a gruff voice meant Papa was giving an order. I recognized most everyone's footsteps outside my door and knew when Emily was parading by, her Bible in hand, her lips following some prayer. I listened hard for some sound that suggested Mamma, but there was none.
    When Vera came up to my room, she found me still on the floor. She released a small cry and put the tray down.
    "What are you doing, Miss Lillian? Come on now, get up from there." She helped me to my feet.
    "Your father has commanded that you be given only bread and water tonight, but I slipped