Preacher's Daughter - Ethan Jailer (First Draft)

4. Family Tree

"When the preacher talks,
that man demands his silence."

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Ethel sat in her small off-white dress as her curious eyes looked up at the church's stage, a large statue of a man being crucified towering over them. The crimson paint bleeding down his hands glimmered in the light coming from the stained glass windows. As soon as she turned 12, she was finally told she was old enough to watch her father give his weekly sermon. Her mother warned her that she had to stay still and not make a sound until it was over.
She didn't really understand what everyone in the church talked and sang about, but she was enticed by the paintings and symbols of the religion. Her small fingers wrapped around the cross on her gold chain as her father stepped up onto the stage.
His voice was strong, something that caught Ethel off-guard as it was the complete opposite of the soft, mellifluous tone her father usually had. He was almost screaming as he paced around the stage and shouted quotes and words from the small book in his hand. His face was red with anger and passion.
Ever since that day, Ethel never saw her father and the preacher as the same person. The preacher felt like a haunting spirit that possessed him whenever he entered that church; taking over the sweet man she loved so dearly. The man who cared so deeply for Ethel— or at least, that's what she thought. That's what she hoped.

    "Suspect down!"
    The officer shoved his pistol back into his belt as Logan's cold eyes stared into the ceiling. Shattered glass and broken shelves littered the floor along with splatters of dried blood.
The alcohol in her bloodstream made Ethel's vision hazy and blurred as she ran away from the scene, tears flowing down her cold cheeks. The officers didn't seem to notice her as she stumbled towards Logan's Harley, grabbing a wad of cash from his wallet, and stuffing it into her pocket. She took one last look behind her before practically crawling down the road, succumbing to the shadows of the night city.

Her soft, brown doe eyes fluttered open as she awoke to the sound of knocking from the front door. She quickly stood up and walked down the stairs, opening the door to see Ethel's mother standing nervously.
"Riley, is Ethel with you?" She asked, staring into the smaller girls eyes with a piercing expression of distress.
"N- no, sorry," Riley said, rubbing her eyes as they adjusted to the morning glare of light.
The preacher's wife sighed as her cold, thin fingers ran up her face. "Have you seen her anywhere?"
"She came over a few days ago, but I saw her walk back home," Riley explained, reflecting on the night she last saw Ethel.
"She never came back home," The older woman said as her eyes grew watery. "I've asked around everywhere, nobody has seen her."
Riley felt a pit in her stomach form, the same horrible feeling she experienced that day in August. The day that completely broke her as a person, mentally and physically.
"She couldn't have made it that far— have you gone to the police?" Riley asked, her eyes growing wider as the realization started to set in.
"No, I- I thought she was with you and I was just—" The preacher's wife's hands covered her face as she thought about what she could do next. Riley ran to the landline in her house and dialed the police station, waiting anxiously as the phone rang.

Ethel's tired eyes snapped open as she curled into a sickly ball, having gotten no more than 2 hours of sleep. She somehow made it back to the motel on foot, and seemed to still be in shock from yesterday's tragedy. It was all a blur to her, and every step she took as she walked outside felt like a zap of pins and needles stabbing into her body.
    "This just in— A suspect of multiple bank, store, and ATM robberies has been gunned down in a shocking incident last night. The suspect, Logan Phelps, Was pronounced dead at the scene when medical services arrived. More on this story now."
    The news anchor's monotone voice sounded like a piercing siren in Ethel's sensitive ears as she passed the TV.
The money Logan had stashed in the motel and what she took from his wallet had only enough to sustain her for another week, but she knew she could never return back home. If her mother found out what she had done, she would have murdered Ethel herself.
Ethel had the smallest spark of faith left— a prayer that somehow everything would work out. Or at the very least, she could survive out here all alone. She had to take every chance possible.
The rough, grainy steps leading to the parking lot of the motel reflected the painful sunlight into her eyes; her headache throbbing more and more every time she opened them.
    She sat on the sidewalk, lighting the cigarette resting between her lips. As she blew out, the wind caught faster, breezing through her thin, dark hair. She felt Logan come behind her and wrap her with his muscular arms. He was finally showing her the love he never reciprocated, even if he was in the afterlife. His warmth faded away with the smoke that she expelled from her lungs.
Through the smoke, she noticed a leafless tree a few feet away from her; its twisted, spider-like branches swaying in the wind slowly. It reminded her of the tree in her backyard, where she swung for hours as she waited for her father to come home.
Ethel stood up, tossing the cigarette bud into the soil before making her way behind the motel where a small stream led deeper into the forest, growing into a thin river. She stepped into the icy water, closing her eyes as she felt the cold travel up her legs. She whispered a prayer as she sat on the bed of the river and felt the surface of the water with her hand.
Christ forgive these bones I've been hiding...
She cupped the water and gently washed her arms, bathing herself clean of the sins she had committed the night before and every night before that.
...and the bones I'm about to leave.
Amen. She stood up and took a deep breathe before walking back to the motel, but right before she stepped in, she decided to curve her path. She found herself under the tree she saw, looking through the cracks of light between the crooked branches as she thought about her past.

She saw flashes of her childhood— fond, loving moments, and the memories of how the woman she no longer considered her mother treated her— both of which she would remember for the rest of her life. The screaming matches, the hugs of forgiveness, the silent dinners and the laughing of celebrations. It was her special day, one day of the entire year that was all about her. And yet, nobody seemed to notice as she snuck behind the corner with the Preacher following close behind.

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