Seed

by Ania Ahlborn

Arnold wasn’t anal; his father-in-law just had a constipated disposition.

She knew there was only one way to get rid of the prickle that had burrowed into her heart: get up, stand over her sister again. Stand over her and wait until she stopped breathing.

Even he knew that if demons could exist, it meant there was real evil in the world, and if you believed in the devil, somewhere in the deepest fibers of your being you had to believe in God. He knew, firsthand, that the devil was real; he’d seen it with his own two eyes. But he’d never seen God. He’d never felt God. He’d never been helped by God. For all he knew, wickedness was strong enough to exist in a world without good.

“I’ve never seen any miracles,” Reagan said, “but I sure as hell have seen my share of darkness. Does God exist? I don’t know. But I kind of hope he does. Because if he doesn’t? We’re probably fucked.”

“Don’t be scared, Mommy,” she said. “At least you still have Abigail.”

“He’s here to play,” she told him. “He said you never finished the game.”

He wanted to call the police. Save the older one, he’d tell them. Save the one the least like me.