Page 87 of Temptation
She was the one holding me in place.
“I want my mommy,” Sebastian whined, and I squeezed his hand tighter, urging him to quiet down.
Something was happening—something big. We were getting ready to sleep when Dad stormed into our room, telling us to get ready to leave. He was smiling at us, but it looked different from all the other times he smiled.
He looked sad, I think.
As soon as we stepped out of the house, their friends were there. I stepped forward to go and hug Mr. And Mrs. St. Claire, but my mom stopped me, shaking her head when I looked at her.
These were the things for grown-ups, but I was dying to know what was happening.
A loud sound tore between us, breaking through the silence that enveloped us. I focused, finally seeing Mom and Dad, standing right next to each other.
“Please don’t hurt them,” my mom said with a tear-stained face. Hurt who? These were their friends, weren’t they? They would never hurt us.
“Please, Judah,” my father said next.
The man I saw before, Judah, smiled at my father, and placed a hand on my father’s shoulder.
They were making a bonfire with our house. That’s why it was burning.
But the fire looked nice.
“We’re not gonna hurt them.” I didn’t like how he said that. He leaned closer to my dad and whispered something in his ear. Dad shook his head, looking scared.
“No. No, goddammit! Don’t do it, Judah. I’m begging you.”
But Judah just laughed and stepped back from them. Two other men I never saw before came behind my parents and pushed them to the ground. That was when I knew their friends weren’t so nice anymore.
“Mom!” tore from my chest when her knees hit the ground, and the chuckles of the others gathered around filled the air. “Let go of me.” I started pushing against Mrs. St. Claire’s grip, and I finally succeeded as I pushed against her.
Running across the field toward my parents, I had no idea what I thought. That I was going to save them?
“Mom!” I yelled again, but she never lifted her head to meet my eyes. Instead, it was Judah that stepped in front of me, hiding them from my view.
“And what do we have here?” He observed me with those bright eyes I often thought were too creepy to be real. “Little Asher Crowell.”
“Sir, please move.”
“And he has manners!” He laughed. “Oh, you would be a fun one to break.”
To break? What was he talking about?
“But I think,” he leaned down, “I need to break your parents first.”
I wasn’t able to react before he turned me around, and tore the shirt I wore, leaving my back exposed.
“All this pale skin,” he murmured, his hand caressing my back. I choked on the scream threatening to erupt, but I saw my brother’s terrified face, his favorite blanket gripped in his tiny hands. “Such a shame.”
“Judah, please!” It was my father that begged, but Judah never responded.
“I hope you like pain, boy.” That was all the warning I got before something connected with my back, sending me to the ground.
Sharp, burning pain, spread all over my back, my entire body shaking from the impact.
The whooshing sound came back again, and he struck again, tearing me piece by piece, as if he was burying me to the ground, punishing me for… I didn’t even know what.
“Oh, God,” it was my mom that screamed out, pain and anguish coloring her voice. “Please, please stop.”
