Chapter 3

My mind detached. I was floating near the ceiling, a silent, invisible spectator to my own violation. I watched the ritual begin.

My parents moved with practiced efficiency, chanting ancient words as they lit more candles and drew symbols on the floor around my cot. Liam, my Liam, assisted them. He held my unresponsive hand, not in comfort, but to position it for the ritual.

I saw the life drain from my own face. My skin turned sallow, my cheeks hollowed. At the same time, a rosy blush bloomed on Clara' s face. Her frail form seemed to straighten, to fill out. She took a deep, shuddering breath, a breath that felt like it was stolen directly from my lungs.

When it was over, she stood up, unaided, and smiled. A real, vibrant smile.

"I feel... wonderful," she whispered, her voice clear and strong.

My parents rushed to her, fussing over her, tears of joy streaming down their faces. Liam joined them, putting his arm around Clara' s shoulders, his face a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

They were a happy family, celebrating a miracle.

And on the cot, my body lay pale, still, and utterly forgotten.

They left together to go celebrate back at the main house. As he walked out the door, Liam paused and spoke to two younger men from the mill who had been waiting outside.

"Clean up the cabin," he said, his voice tired. "And get rid of the... ritual remnants."

The two boys nodded nervously. They came inside, looking at my still form with a mixture of fear and pity. One of them checked my pulse. He shook his head at his friend.

They treated me like trash. They dragged my body out the back of the cabin, through the wet leaves and mud, and unceremoniously dumped me into a shallow ditch they' d dug earlier. They tossed a few shovelfuls of loose dirt over me, just enough to hide me from view.

As they walked away, I heard one of them say, "Liam' s heading to the hunting lodge up north for a few days. Said he needs to rest and recover."

And then, there was only the sound of the wind in the trees and the crushing, silent darkness.