closed against the darkness, but she must have been able to hear the rat, because she flinched when it moved closer.
The rat, no doubt emboldened by the knowledge that the warm beings in its domain wouldn’t move, leapt onto Genevieve’s leg. Droplets of sweat developed on her cheeks as she recoiled and bit her lip to smother her heavy breathing. The rat climbed her black dress, pausing every few steps to explore and sniff, while tears appeared in the corner of Genevieve’s eyes.
I moved closer, wanting to knock the rodent off her, but powerless to do so. The rat reached her neck; its whiskers breezed over her exposed skin. I glanced at Jonathan. His scowling eyes were fixed on the child; the fingers of his right hand were spread, resting on the table as though he were preparing to stand.
Genevieve finally shrieked. The rat had bitten her; drops of bright-red blood beaded on her neck as she slapped away the mangy beast. Her eyes finally opened, and terror flashed over her face.
Jonathan stood and walked towards her with slow, ponderous steps. The other family members moved their heads to follow his motion, blind in the darkness but listening to the drama that was unfolding.
Genevieve’s breathing was shallow and ragged by the time Jonathan stopped in front of her.
“Daughter,” he said, and she recoiled at the word, “you’ve broken the stillness. A punishment is in order.”
“May the Lord have mercy on me,” she blurted.
“Don’t punish her,” I begged, standing as close to Jonathan as I dared. “She’s only a child! She couldn’t help herself!”
Jonathan stared down at his daughter, tortuously drawing out the silence. “You will spend the night here,” he said at last. “Maybe some time in our communion place will teach you to respect it.”
Relief flooded Genevieve’s face, but dread quickly replaced it. Clearly, the punishment was better than what she had feared—but was also worse than she’d hoped.
“You understand why I do this,” Jonathan said. He reached out and gripped Genevieve’s chin, turning her head up to face him. His voice was softer, almost, but not quite, caring. “Embrace the darkness, and it will give you strength. Embrace it, and it will give you a life many times longer than what you would otherwise bear. But the darkness is not easy to carry; we must practice and show it respect, so that it will grant us these gifts when it deems us ready. You understand.”
Genevieve was shaking like a leaf. “Yes, Father.”
Jonathan released his daughter’s chin and addressed the rest of the room. “We will return upstairs.”
There were several relieved exhalations, and the others rose, picking up their mats.
“Mathilde, you will take over Genevieve’s cleaning duties tonight.” Jonathan plucked the candle off his table, lit it with a deft stroke, then led the family towards the stairs. Genevieve stayed behind, huddled on her mat as the candlelight faded from sight and the footsteps receded. At last, the door at the top of the stairs clicked closed, leaving the shivering girl alone in the dark.
THIRD NIGHT
“No!” I spat, jerking upright. Pain seared across my temple again, and I pressed my palm to it, waiting for it to ease. Confused and disoriented, I took a moment to realise I was still in my makeshift bed in the living room. I groaned, pulled myself to my feet, and wrapped the blanket about my body.
I must have been asleep for hours; night had coated the house in darkness, and I groped for the light switch. I stumbled out of the living room, where the wooden floor was cool on my bare feet, and into the hallway.
I had to let the girl out. She was trapped, frightened, and surrounded by the rats and insects, and her father planned to leave her there all night. I could help her, though. I had to help her.
The door was so well concealed that I nearly ran past it. It was so different in my dreams; the wooden entry had been tall and dark then, filled with
The rat, no doubt emboldened by the knowledge that the warm beings in its domain wouldn’t move, leapt onto Genevieve’s leg. Droplets of sweat developed on her cheeks as she recoiled and bit her lip to smother her heavy breathing. The rat climbed her black dress, pausing every few steps to explore and sniff, while tears appeared in the corner of Genevieve’s eyes.
I moved closer, wanting to knock the rodent off her, but powerless to do so. The rat reached her neck; its whiskers breezed over her exposed skin. I glanced at Jonathan. His scowling eyes were fixed on the child; the fingers of his right hand were spread, resting on the table as though he were preparing to stand.
Genevieve finally shrieked. The rat had bitten her; drops of bright-red blood beaded on her neck as she slapped away the mangy beast. Her eyes finally opened, and terror flashed over her face.
Jonathan stood and walked towards her with slow, ponderous steps. The other family members moved their heads to follow his motion, blind in the darkness but listening to the drama that was unfolding.
Genevieve’s breathing was shallow and ragged by the time Jonathan stopped in front of her.
“Daughter,” he said, and she recoiled at the word, “you’ve broken the stillness. A punishment is in order.”
“May the Lord have mercy on me,” she blurted.
“Don’t punish her,” I begged, standing as close to Jonathan as I dared. “She’s only a child! She couldn’t help herself!”
Jonathan stared down at his daughter, tortuously drawing out the silence. “You will spend the night here,” he said at last. “Maybe some time in our communion place will teach you to respect it.”
Relief flooded Genevieve’s face, but dread quickly replaced it. Clearly, the punishment was better than what she had feared—but was also worse than she’d hoped.
“You understand why I do this,” Jonathan said. He reached out and gripped Genevieve’s chin, turning her head up to face him. His voice was softer, almost, but not quite, caring. “Embrace the darkness, and it will give you strength. Embrace it, and it will give you a life many times longer than what you would otherwise bear. But the darkness is not easy to carry; we must practice and show it respect, so that it will grant us these gifts when it deems us ready. You understand.”
Genevieve was shaking like a leaf. “Yes, Father.”
Jonathan released his daughter’s chin and addressed the rest of the room. “We will return upstairs.”
There were several relieved exhalations, and the others rose, picking up their mats.
“Mathilde, you will take over Genevieve’s cleaning duties tonight.” Jonathan plucked the candle off his table, lit it with a deft stroke, then led the family towards the stairs. Genevieve stayed behind, huddled on her mat as the candlelight faded from sight and the footsteps receded. At last, the door at the top of the stairs clicked closed, leaving the shivering girl alone in the dark.
THIRD NIGHT
“No!” I spat, jerking upright. Pain seared across my temple again, and I pressed my palm to it, waiting for it to ease. Confused and disoriented, I took a moment to realise I was still in my makeshift bed in the living room. I groaned, pulled myself to my feet, and wrapped the blanket about my body.
I must have been asleep for hours; night had coated the house in darkness, and I groped for the light switch. I stumbled out of the living room, where the wooden floor was cool on my bare feet, and into the hallway.
I had to let the girl out. She was trapped, frightened, and surrounded by the rats and insects, and her father planned to leave her there all night. I could help her, though. I had to help her.
The door was so well concealed that I nearly ran past it. It was so different in my dreams; the wooden entry had been tall and dark then, filled with
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