Seed

by Ania Ahlborn

At what point do parents back away from something they love more than their own lives, put up their hands, and admit defeat?

But never really alone, that voice reassured him. I’ve always been here, and I’ll never leave.

“It wasn’t me,” Charlie whispered so quietly Jack was sure she hadn’t meant for him to hear. He heard but didn’t reply, deafened by his own thoughts—that faint whisper sing-songing inside his head. It was you, it was me, it was us, it was we.

He heard the words, felt them vibrate in his throat, but the voice didn’t belong to him. That was when he knew he would never tell her about his past, and he would never tell her that she was right about Charlie. He would never tell her because he’d never be allowed.

Jack couldn’t help but wonder, why had Abby been so sure that he would understand? Why not her mother instead? Had she seen the darkness in his eyes as well?

“This cannot be happening. This isn’t our family.” Inside his head, that little voice agreed with her sentiment. This was never your family, it whispered. It’s always been mine.

Nothing he did would save Charlie from what he knew was torturing her. Nothing would save her because nothing had saved him.

He couldn’t bring himself to step outside. He was going to lose his daughter. He couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“Poor Daddy,” she told him, her expression as chaste as one of God’s angels. “So sad,” she whispered. “Sad about a dead fucking dog.”

But let me tell ya: it’s your story. The end of the story is gonna get ya whether you want it to er not. You think you gotta go chase fate? Fate is chasin’ you, chief. But you know that, right? Better than any old body.

I ain’t never seen anyone, not anyone outrun the devil.

But what caught her attention now was something hiding behind a tree—a shadow much like the one she’d seen outside in the darkness peering out from behind the trunk of an oak, glaring at the photographer while Jack mugged for the camera.

She suddenly realized what that shadow reminded her of: Jack’s tattoo. It was the same creature, the same malevolent grin.

He grinned because Jack Winter had been in the exact spot he was meant to be in that night. He grinned because, judging by the dazed expression on the kid’s face, Jack Winter didn’t realize he was covered from head to toe in blood.

There was his little girl, his angel, a monster.

She hadn’t whispered, “Because I love you.” She had whispered, “Because I can.”

BROOOO NOOO

By then, Charlie would be out of Louisiana. Less than half a mile from home, a rusty red pickup would pull up along the side of the road, and a bearded man would push the passenger door open for the scrawny barefoot girl.