Another Wednesday night and we were being baby-sat upstairs. As usual we were told, no matter what we heard, we were not to come downstairs until they came up to get us. We agreed as usual.
Jon, got out the cards for us again. We had been learning for weeks now, to build card houses. Tom and Bree were oblivious to the noises from below, just building away. Jon and I kept anxiously glancing towards the stairs. We never ventured down below, for fear of the repercussions.
But tonight things were unusually loud. Then the screaming started. Tom and Bree, just kept building. Jon and I went to the edge of the stairs. Do we dare? We knew we weren't allowed, but as the screams grew louder, we were drawn closer to the edge. We began silently creeping down the stairs. We reached the door and froze. Torn between curiosity and fear, curiosity won and we eased the door open. What we saw next, would never leave us.
There my father was strapped to a chair, with the rest of the church members circled around him. The screams we had heard were coming from him. He was screaming and growling like some wretched animal caught in a trap. The others were chanting in some unknown language, placing their hands on him. My mother was sitting in a chair next to him, babbling, "It has to get out. It just has to...it has to get out. It just has to...".
As they continued chanting, my father writhed under their hands and restraints. He was no longer screaming but cursing them. Then in a voice I had never heard, he growled, "We will never leave this vessel. He belongs to us. The sacrifice has already been made. She is ours as well. You have lost. Your God can't help you now.". Then it laughed and howled as they chanted harder. The chair he was in began to lift off the ground and he threw his head back and screamed. And we ran as fast as we could back upstairs.
When we got back upstairs, Tom and Bree, were still building as though nothing was happening below us. They were lost in their own little world. Jon and I huddle in the corner vowing to never speak of what we had seen below. To never allow anyone to know that we had gone to the forbidden downstairs.
As we watched them continuing to build oblivious to all else, we sat lost in our own thoughts.
What had we seen?
What were they doing down there?
What was in my father?
What sacrifice had been made?
Who was the 'her' that voice claimed was his?
Soon came the footsteps that I now dreaded. We were leaving, but who were we going home with? My mother entered and gathered up my brother and sister from the floor where they were still building. She glanced over at Jon, and thanked him for babysitting. She looked at me and smiled, "Come on Jane, time to go home. And y'all be quiet on the way home. Your father has one of his bad headaches.". I looked at Jon, and he quickly looked away. Trembling with fear, I quickly did as I was told.