Taylor
I'm
not really a Hanson. I'm actually a Roylan. That's my mother's last
name. She called me Jordan, after the river; she was a Catholic, really
dedicated.
Sitting, rather awkwardly in a pew, he glanced upwards at the crucifix hanging above the altar
Everyone else is back in the hotel. I know I shouldn't be here, I
should be in bed; Diana'd freak if she knew I was here. The Hansons are
all C-of-E types, Lord knows what they'd do if they found me in a Roman
Catholic church. They've tried to convert me, but it hasn't worked. I
was brought up Catholic and that's what I'll probably stay. Although I
sometimes wonder whether God's just gotten sick of listening to it all;
the same old problems caused by the same old dogma. Mom preached to me
each night as I went to sleep. She acted as my confessor. Every night,
the same question, 'What sins did you commit today?'.
I'd tell her – I could never lie to Mom – she'd slap me across the face
a few times then kiss me goodnight and leave the room, all the while
she'd say, 'Better my wrath than God's'. Or rather, better her
wrath than Justin's. Don't worry Dad, I'm not living in denial. I know
exactly what you were, you son-of-a-bitch. Never spoke much; you didn't
have to. You kept the whipping stick on top of the fridge. That was
enough. You raised me and Mom with that damn stick. I'm not sure if you
ever realised what you did to us. You and your bloody talk about Edgar
Cayce, whoever the hell he was. |
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Catrin
nervously
glancing around, she walked around and sat in the middle of the fourth
last pew, kneeling on the padded bench to 'pray'
At least this way no-one can see my face. I don't want anyone to see
the bruises or the scars. Sometimes I wonder whether this is all just
some wretched nightmare. If I want it enough, I'll wake up in my bed,
back home. With Mom and Dad and my sisters. In my bed, in my room, with
my walk-in closet, in my house. If I looked out the window, I'd see the
white picket fence that Dad cherished. He built it himself.
Who'd think it to look at me now?
To look at me now, all anyone would see is my husband's handiwork and
the pain I can't feel. It just doesn't read right; a little girl with
everything falls for the Devil and moves to her own private hell. I
know the truth about you, you bastard. But I can't leave. You won't let
me. I love you, and I hate you for it.
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Taylor
You killed Mom. You ran off with your sixteen-year-old slut and you
killed her. She may have still breathed and eaten, but she was dead.
And you killed her. I'd sooner admit Satan was my father, rather than
admit my father was Justin Hanson. You and Satan must be pretty good
friends, hey?
I was eight. Eight years old when you left us. It wasn't a month before
Mom left too. They called my school; maybe they thought it'd be easier
for me if I wasn't there. I didn't even get to say goodbye. Those
Welfare bastards woke me up to reality. I mean, the only way your
family can be together and happy these days is if you're living in your
head.
Diana's always telling me that God is merciful. I'm not good at
believing in myths. Dammit, if He were merciful, I'd still be with Mom.
She raised me with all that 'wrath of the Almighty' crap; after
everything that's happened, nobody could convince me that God's
merciful. I won't believe it. I can't.
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Catrin
I
feel like I'm sleep-walking. I never hear what my husband's screaming
at me. I only ever hear his fists. I remember what he'd say after his
collusions with a whisky bottle; 'No wonder your mother had a nervous breakdown'.
The family Bible taught me nicely-rounded, Catholicised views on Heaven
and Hell. My marriage taught me that neither exist; there's only Earth,
and it's worse than any hell I could come up with. Why is it all so
goddamn hard?
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Taylor
Walker was there when I got home. As soon as they told me she'd
been taken away, I ran. I had to see for myself. Walker is Justin's
brother. Sometimes I wish Mom had married Walker instead of Justin;
they're as different as water and wine.
Walker lied to me. He meant well, but he lied to me. He said they'd
only taken Mom because she wasn't feeling well. He said she'd come
home. The Welfare girl said it'd be best if I went to stay with Walker
and Diana and their family for a while. I went; I was eight and
convinced Mom would be back in a few weeks. It's been seven years, and
I'm still living with the Hansons. I figured out a long time ago that
Mom's never coming home.
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Catrin
I'd
go home to Mom and Dad and my sisters. To hide. I'd lock myself in my
old neighbourhood and just find 'me' again. I'd hide from him; from all
those sweet stinging words. How many times has he fed me 'You just need to rest'? Mother had a nervous breakdown, and if he keeps chipping away at me, I think I will to.
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Taylor
"I know the truth about you," he whispered into the silence of the church.
And I'm not even sure who I mean. It doesn't matter, I know the truth about all of you; Justin, Mom, Walker, God. . . .
I have to get back, the later it is, the more Diana'll kill me if she finds out.
Standing, he walks out into the aisle and crosses himself before turning and heading for the door.
I wonder what that woman's here for. She looks kinda upset. Whatever it
is, it's gotta be easier than what I'm going through. God grant you
peace lady.
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Catrin
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a young boy cross himself, then retreat to the back of the church.
What's someone his age doing here at this time of night? What
wouldn't I give to be his age again? I'd listen to my parents this
time, I wouldn't end up marrying the Devil and living this vile excuse
for an existence.
"But I know the truth about you,"
I know about the wife and child you left after you proposed to me. God
help me, I was only sixteen, how was I supposed to know any better?! I
hate you! I may love you, but I hate you! I hate you Justin Hanson!!!
Hiding her head in her hands, her shameful sobs punctuate the silence of the empty church.
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