around his wrist.
Walter tossed the bag and clothes onto the floor. 'Get dressed.'
Something was wrong. The makeup Walter used to hide his scars was smeared in several places. She saw thick, rubbery patches of crimson and brown coloured skin. His eyes were wet. Had he been crying?
'Get dressed,' Walter said again. His hair was dishevelled, sticking up at odd angles as though he had just climbed out of bed. He was wearing his coat.
'Where are we going?'
'I'm taking you home.'
Hannah was about to ask the question, stopped. Don't say anything. Just do what he says.
She had to ask. She needed to know. 'Why are you letting me go?'
'Mary said it's the right thing to do.'
Hannah picked up her clothes. They smelled of fabric softener. Walter had cleaned them.
Walter didn't leave the room. Hannah took the clothes behind the curtain hiding the toilet and changed quickly.
When she came out, Walter was holding a pair of handcuffs.
This time he didn't ask her to turn around. He yanked her hands behind her back and handcuffed her. She didn't fight him. When he wrapped a black blindfold over her eyes, she didn't fight him. Walter grabbed her by the arm and quickly dragged her down the hallway as though the house was on fire.
Walter helped her up the stairs. Hannah took the steps one at a time, heart pumping with fear, the handcuffs biting into her wrist. Why was he rushing? Something was wrong. Hannah couldn't see, couldn't make out any shapes. She was trapped in the dark.
The stairs ended. Hannah stepped into the kitchen. Walter held onto her arm and led her down what felt like a narrow hallway. She kept bumping into walls.
Walter told her to stop. She did. He grabbed her by the shoulders and then moved her to the left and told her to take three steps forward. She did.
Walter was breathing hard. 'I'm going to take off your handcuffs and then help you put on your jacket,' he said. 'After your jacket is on, I'm going to cuff you again.'
Coat on and zippered, the handcuffs back in place, Walter put his hands on her shoulders and moved her to the right. Something hard bumped up against the tips of her boots.
He slipped something inside her jacket pocket.
There was a long moment of silence. She heard him sniffle and clear his throat several times.
Was he crying?
'You're so beautiful, Hannah.'
He was crying.
'You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met,' Walter said. 'I love you so much.'
In some strange, bizarre way, she wanted to thank him for his kindness – to tell him he was doing the right thing. She wanted to say she wouldn't tell anyone about him or what had happened, cross her heart and hope to die, swear on a stack of bibles, whatever he wanted. But she didn't want to risk breaking whatever spell he was under by saying something that might cause him to change his mind. 'Stay still,' Walter said. 'Don't move.'
80
With Emma and Judith, Walter fired one shot in the back of their head and quickly pushed them over the bathtub before their legs buckled. He never stayed inside the bathroom – seeing their bodies thrashing inside the tub, limbs kicking, hearing the gurgling sounds they made as their brain died… it was too upsetting. He went to the closet to pray to Mary, waiting for them to bleed out, Mary reassuring him that they hadn't felt anything. What he was witnessing was their bodies dying. The body didn't matter. It was just a vessel for the soul, and the soul was what mattered.
The difficult part done and out of the way, he came back to the bathroom and turned on the shower to rinse away the blood. Then he made a sign of the cross on their foreheads with their blood, baptizing them as he prayed, and transferred the bodies to the plastic tarp lying on the floor. The pocket holding the statue was then sewn shut – Mary needed to stay with them until their souls were finally released three days later – and before he dumped them into the water to be baptized all over again, he prayed again.
When he arrived home, he cleaned the shower and floors with bleach, wiping everything up with the towels, and then he'd go to the closet again to pray.
Tonight would be different.
Hannah Givens stood facing the shower wall. No plastic tarp under her feet. No towels or bottles of bleach to clean out the tub. The statue was in her pocket but there was no need to sew it shut. Mary didn't want him to deliver Hannah into the water. After he shot Hannah, he was to place the gun against his temple or the roof of his mouth and pull the trigger. Those were Mary's instructions.
Walter brought the handgun up and pointed it at the back of Hannah's head. His hand was shaking. He couldn't stop crying. Mary spoke to him.
Don't be afraid. I'm here with you.
I'm scared.
It's painless. You won't feel a thing, I promise.
Help me.
Remember when I took you into my arms for the first time and pulled you close to my heart?
Yes.
You were surrounded by my love. I took the pain away. Do you remember?
He did.
Do you feel my love for you, Walter?
Yes.
You'll forever be surrounded by my love. Now do it.
He couldn't pull the trigger.
Your mother is here with me. Emma and Judith are excited to see you. They love you, Walter. Deliver Hannah to me and then come and join us.
The doorbell rang.
Hannah's head turned to the sound. Lightning quick, Walter wrapped his arm around her throat, the good hand coming up, pressing the muzzle of the gun against her head.
'Say one word and I'll kill you.'
The doorbell rang again.
Who was at the door? Had his new neighbour Gloria Lister come back with another one of her pies?
You're my special boy, Walter. I love you.
The bathroom door was open. The lights were on, as were the kitchen lights.
Come home to me. It's time.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a knock on the door. Hannah was crying, shivering against him.
'Shut up.'
I love you, Walter.
It was hard to hear Mary over Hannah's bawling.
'Shut up.'
Pull the trigger.
Hannah didn't stop. He placed his good hand over her mouth.
There's no reason to be afraid, Walter. Can you feel my love? Can you feel -
Hannah bit his thumb.
Walter screamed and Hannah pushed him backwards. He hit the bathroom vanity, the back of his head shattering the mirror. Hannah twisted her head side-to-side like a rabid dog, tearing skin from his hand, and Walter kept screaming as the gun dropped into the sink.
