“Is there anything you want to add or change?” Nathaniel asked.
“Are we including any evidence of people not falling for the psychological manipulation of cults?” I asked.
Nathaniel paused. “Oh, I thought we were arguing thatanyoneis susceptible.”
“We are,” I said. “But I thought you wanted to earn extra credit and observe some cults for yourself. Unless you think youwillbe manipulated?”
A long silence hung in the air.
“How did you know about that?”
I shrugged. “You’re obnoxiously loud in hallways.”
“Listen, I–”
“It’s whatever,” I cut him off. “Do what you want.”
“You’re mad at me.”
“I’m not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Nathaniel nodded. “You mentioned the other day something about a cult with your mother…” he said. “…were you part of it too?”
“No,” I scoffed. “I mean…yes.But it wasn’t really…I don’t know. I didn’t experience the manipulation, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Nathaniel nodded, and I thought he would drop it, but unfortunately his curiosity was unmasked. “Could she still be with the cult? Your mother, that is. You said she went missing. I’m assuming the police already checked with them and everything…?”
“Yes, of course,” I said, though I didn’t really know the details. My father kept me in the dark regarding the police investigation, he didn’t even want me talking to the detectives. “She mustn’t have been there.”
Nathaniel nodded, and this time, he dropped it.
As promised, Marianne entered with a tray of fruits, biscuits and cheese as well as two glasses of water. We thanked her before proceeding with our introduction and first paragraph. I allocated myself the introduction and research while Nathaniel tackled paragraph one. We exchanged brief comments here and there, but mostly we worked in silence.
Once we’d finished our first draft, we took a ten-minute break to eat the rest of the snacks. Nathaniel’s curiosity flared up again.
“What was the cult called? The one your mum moved to?” he asked.
“God’s Soldiers Church,” I answered, mouth souring at the taste of that name on my lips.
“Do you remember much about it?”
I shrugged. “Not really. I remember a little about the leader…Joe. He and my mother got close and…I guess he kind of fed her delusions.”
“Delusions?”
“She uh…she thought my brother and I were possessed by demons,” I said.
But that wasn’t because of Joe.
Nathaniel’s lips parted, words failing him as he blinked, repeatedly, a grape frozen halfway to his mouth.
“Basically,” I went on before I had to endure any sympathy, “Joe validated her delusions and made it worse. My mother believed in everything he said.”
Nathaniel shifted in his seat, grape returning to his small plate of untouched food. “Did she tell you…why she believed you and your brother were…possessed?”
