Escape

Part 3

The ride home was long and uncomfortable as Dad drove in perfect silence. I begged him to forgive me, apologizing over and over again, but the only response was a terse "Shut up!"

When the truck finally screeched to a halt in front of the house, the three of us climbed out quietly. Momma and Dad looked at me. I took one look at Dad's livid face in the moonlight and stared down at my feet, shaking.

Dad yanked the bag of books from my shoulder and thrust it at Momma. "Go inside, Darlene," he ordered. Momma looked like she wanted to object, but he raised his hand as if to strike and she shrank back. She gave me one last worried look before shuffling away quickly.

We stood there for several seconds even after door slammed, not speaking. Dad's arms were crossed over his chest, somehow making him look even bigger than he already was. I clenched my hands tightly in front of my denim skirt, frightened tears rolling quietly down my cheeks.

"Lying lips are abomination to the Lord. A righteous man hates lying, but a wicked man is loathsome, and comes to shame," he said at last.

He seemed to be waiting for some kind of response. "That's Proverbs," I said in a hoarse whisper. "Chapters twelve and thirteen."

"So the wicked little girl remembers at least some of her teaching, then," he snarled. He walked in a slow circle around me, then pulled the paper from his pocket and waved it under my nose. "'And whosoever speaketh a word against the Son of man, it shall be forgiven him: but whosoever speaketh against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, neither in the world to come.'" He waved the paper again. "And what do you call this, if not blasphemy? I told you never to bring this filth, these lies into my house again. But you have broken my law, and you have broken God's law."

I didn't see the blow coming, but the back of Dad's hand connected with my face so hard that I fell, landing hard on my right side in the gravel.

I was crying in earnest then, sobbing as I begged him to stop, to forgive me. He reached down and grabbed a fistful of hair from my scalp, dragging me towards the lake.

"No!" I screamed, trying to wrench out of his grip. I looked at the house, willing, praying, for Momma to look out the window, to stop him, to do something.

Our footsteps thudded ominously on the boards of the dock. Dad put an arm around my waist, lifting me off my feet. I kicked his shin and he dropped me again with a curse. I lost my balance on the uneven planks, though, and stumbled. Before I could get away he was on me again, more firmly this time, and the next thing I knew I had been thrown into the murky water.

The cold closed over my head, sealing me in darkness. I tried to fight my way free, but his fingers were caught in my hair and grabbing my shoulder, forcing me down further no matter how hard I kicked.

Overhead came the muffled sound of his prayer, as he demanded God take the evil from my spirit.

"Save this child from her wicked ways, and from the witchcraft and temptation of the world!" he shouted at the sky as my head broke the surface briefly. I sucked in a breath before he pushed me back down again.

I flailed wildly, but I was getting weak from struggling and lack of oxygen. My boots found one of the posts holding up the dock. Bracing myself against it I pushed with all of my strength, but Dad was too heavy and too strong; I couldn't pull him into the water with me. All I did was make him angrier, and he tightened the fist in my hair, yanking out a few strands from the root.

My arms and legs began to grow weak. I couldn't feel my fingers and my feet seemed to weigh a ton. How long had it been? I couldn't hold my breath much longer.

My last thought before I blacked out was that if I were a character in a novel, there would be someone who came to save me. Someone would know that I was in trouble and come to my rescue, maybe on a white horse, or a Harley Davidson.

But it was just me, Dad, and the lake, so I guessed I couldn't be the heroine of the story, after all.