Page 269 of Sinister

“I didn’t, Father! She bit me!”

“Is she dead? She’s not crying anymore.”

The voices are getting closer, followed by thudding footsteps on the stairs.

“She’s not dead. Not yet.”

“Good.”

What does he mean good? Wasn’t that his goal? Kill me for cavorting with the devil?

“Get her to the horse.”

“She’s bleeding, Father.”

Am I bleeding? I can’t feel it. Everything hurts so badly I can’t pinpoint one exact spot that might be worse off than the rest. But given the position of my body, the fact that I cannot seem to move well, I can infer that the damage is great.

Even if they don’t kill me tonight . . .

I choke on a sob.

Even if I don’t die tonight, I don’t think I will ever be the same.

“I don’t care. Move her,” my father says flippantly.

From the corner of my eye, I see the lot of them gathered around me like it’s a sick spectacle. They’re watching over me, bleeding on the floor, body broken, with no compassion.

There is only a malicious glint in their eyes.

“She might die on the way. I think we should call a physician,” my brother mentions in a low voice.

“And say what? That you threw your sister down the stairs? You’d be branded a murderer!”

“But—”

“Even if she dies on the way, we can still use her.”

Use me? Terror engulfs me at my father’s words. And somehow the notion that he might use me is more terrifying than this gut-wrenching pain I’m feeling right now.

I blink. Tears gather around my eyes, but I still cannot move my neck. I can only stare at these figures looming over me, casually debating what to do with my dying body.

“But she won’t be able to stand straight.” The voice is unknown—another of the men present.

Why would they need me to stand straight?

“We will manage once we get there. By now, everyone must know about Snowden’s passing. The people of this town must be terrified that the devil is out and about, lurking in the shadows, ready to murder the best of us. We cannot allow that,” my father intones. “We need to let them know they are safe.”

More confusion clouds my mind. What is he talking about? What does he want to do?

My father turns with a harsh stare toward my brother.

“Grab her. Take her to the horse. The crowd is awaiting.”

Crowd? What crowd?

I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. My fate seems to be decided; I won’t have much longer. But the thought that they will use me for something . . . to prove a point, scares me more than anything.

And then there’s the thought of Sin.