Forbidden Fruit. Erica Spindler

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СКАЧАТЬ stood beside the bed staring down at her. She had never heard her speak those words before. They sounded ugly and they frightened her.

      “Mama,” she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks, “I wasn’t doing anything. I didn’t mean—”

      Hope grabbed Glory’s arm and yanked her off the chair. Glory landed on her knees, and her mother jerked her upright. Pain shot through her shoulder, and she cried out.

      At her cry, Hope’s rage seemed to escalate instead of diminish. She closed her hands around Glory’s upper arms and shook her so hard her teeth rattled. “I will not allow such pernicious behavior in my house! Do you hear me? It’s evil and dirty. I will not allow it!”

      “Mama…I didn’t mean to. I didn’t…it was Danny’s idea…He made me do it…he made me…Please, Mama…please…”

      Danny, his shorts down around his thighs, began to cry, too, loud wails of despair.

      Mrs. Cooper rushed into the library. “Madam, what’s—” She stopped, taking in the scene, her expression dismayed. “Oh, dear,” she said, hurrying forward. “Danny, love, what have you yourself gotten into?”

      Danny’s tears became howls. “Didn’t do it, Granny! Wasn’t me! Wasn’t!”

      Hope spun around, her hand raised as if to slap him. Mrs. Cooper darted between them. She pulled up Danny’s pants and gathered him into her arms. “Calm down, Mrs. St. Germaine. Children will be children. They were merely curious and no harm’s been done.”

      “Get out!” Hope raged. “And take that…vile little beast with you. I never want to see either of you again. Is that clear?”

      Mrs. Cooper reeled back, her expression stunned. “But, madam, certainly you don’t mean—”

      “But I do.” She took a step toward the older woman, eyes narrowed. “Get out, now. Get out, for ‘God’s servant is an agent of wrath to bring punishment on the wrongdoer. With eyes like blazing fire, he will strike down her children.’”

      Mrs. Cooper paled. She took another step back, then turned and ran, Danny howling in her arms. Glory watched them go, a sense of horror stealing over her. This time, she had done something really bad. This time, her mother wouldn’t forgive her. Not ever. She began to shake.

      Her mother turned to her, her expression suddenly, terrifyingly calm. “Now then, Glory, come with me.”

      Glory shook her head, frozen to the spot with fear, trembling so violently she could hardly stand.

      Bright spots of color burned her mother’s cheeks. “Very well.” She curled her fingers around Glory’s arm and half led, half dragged her out of the library and up the stairs. Hope took her to her bedroom, but not to the corner, as Glory expected, but to her private bathroom. She shut and locked the door behind them.

      Glory scurried to the corner and huddled in it, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her mother went to the tub and shoved aside the frilly pink shower curtain, bent and twisted the faucets on. A moment later, steam billowed from the tub into the air.

      “Mama,” Glory whispered, “I’ll be good. I promise, I will. I’ll be good.”

      “You’ve sinned against the Lord. You must be punished. You must be cleansed.” Hope turned to her then, the expression in her eyes straight out of Glory’s nightmares. “Get in the tub.”

      Glory shook her head, her teeth chattering. She tightened her arms around herself. “It wasn’t me, Mama. It was Danny. It was his idea. He made me do it. We were just playing.”

      Her mother advanced on her. “Like Eve, you can’t be trusted. She took the apple, she tasted. You have The Darkness, Glory.”

      Glory pressed herself farther back into the corner. “Please, Mama,” she said again, tears running down her face. “It wasn’t my fault, it was Danny’s. Please, Mama. You’re scaring me.”

      “I will cleanse you of The Darkness,” Hope said, her voice devoid of emotion, more terrifying for its absence. She yanked Glory to her feet, stripped her roughly, then dragged her to the tub and forced her into the steaming water.

      Glory screamed. Her mother held her down. “This is nothing compared to the burn of hell’s fire. Remember that, daughter.”

      Hope bent and rummaged in the basket beside the large, marble tub. She drew out a nailbrush. “I will cleanse you,” she said again. “If I have to, I will scrub the flesh from your bones. You will be clean, daughter.”

      The next minutes were a nightmare. Her mother raked the brush over her skin, scrubbing every inch and part of her, alternating between whispered prayer and shouted rage. Glory recognized biblical passages interspersed with words she had never heard before, creating disjointed, frightening thoughts she didn’t understand. Her mother spoke repeatedly of a bad seed and of sin, of darkness and light. She spoke of Glory’s birth, of The Beast and of a mission.

      Glory’s skin burned; her most tender places bled. She felt hot, then trembled with the cold. Numbness stole over her; with it her physical pain lessened. Her sobs became whimpers; her whimpers, silent shudders of despair.

      Finally, when Glory no longer had the strength to sit upright, her mother drew her from the tub. She dried Glory roughly, slipped a plain cotton gown over her head, then led her to the corner of her bedroom. She forced her onto her knees.

      “You must see the evil of your ways.” She curved her fingers around Glory’s shoulder, gripping tightly. “You must see the evil and understand the folly of heeding its call.”

      Shuddering, Glory lifted her gaze to her mother’s face. It swam before her eyes.

      “The Darkness will not have you, Glory Alexandra St. Germaine. Do you understand me? I will not allow it to have you.”

      Without another word, her mother left the bedroom, locking the door behind her.

       Chapter 11

      Glory had no idea how long she remained on her knees in the corner, frozen with shock and grief, frozen with fear that if she moved, her mother would come upon her and fly into another rage.

      Her skin burned as if on fire, every place and part of her body. The wooden floor bruised her knees. Her back ached; her head pounded.

      But her heart hurt more. Much more.

      Her father, not her mother, came for her. He didn’t speak, just scooped her into his arms and carried her to her bed. He sat on its edge and cradled her in his arms, murmuring sounds of love and comfort.

      Glory sank into him, too weak to do more. She longed to tell him she was sorry, that she hadn’t meant to be such a bad, wicked girl, but she couldn’t make her mouth form the words. Just as she couldn’t cry, though she felt like weeping. She had cried herself dry hours ago.

      The room grew dark. Still her father rocked her. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could block out the image of her mother’s face, twisted with rage, her eyes hot with something that had frightened Glory clear to her core.

      And later, much later, as she lay alone in her СКАЧАТЬ