The glider starts to shake as Remi silently sobs. Her shaking hand covers her mouth. Her distress breaks something inside of me, and I want to yank her into my arms and offer her comfort. I clutch my beer bottle tighter.
“The newspaper…” she trails off.
I nod. “Twenty-three years ago, there was a raid. It was never said who tipped the feds off, but apparently, whoever it was gave a shit ton of evidence. A letter was shoved under Mae and her husband Dale’s door the night before, warning them of the raid. They never took part in Hell Night, even though they endured them as kids. Knowing that we would be separated if we were taken by the state, they took the chance to get me and my brothers away from Sweet Haven. We left with them during the raid. There was no record of any of us, so they never knew to look.”
“Mae was there?” she demands to know, anger turning her cheeks red. “Why didn’t her and her husband ever try to do something? Why didn’t they call the police? How could they just sit around and let that happen to all of you kids?”
“I don’t know. It’s something her and Dale have kept to themselves. Whatever their reason is, it had to have been a good one. They’ve always been strongly against and disgusted by what happened on Hell Night, and I know they would have done something if they could.”
“I didn’t read the article, but the headline said people were found dead.”
I nod. “When the authorities showed up, twelve of the adults were found murdered.”
“Who killed them?”
My eyes swing to her at the hard timbre in her voice. She looks angry, but I detect a hint of satisfaction as well.
“That’s also something we don’t know. All I do know is they deserved to rot in hell, and I thank fuck someone put them there.”
She adjusts on the glider until one leg is bent resting on the cushion and she’s facing me. “You said all the children were present at Hell Night, no matter the age. What did you mean by that? Did they—” She stops and looks like she’s going to be sick. She doesn’t need to continue for me to know what she was going to ask.
“From the time they hit a year old, every child was present. They felt it was necessary for babies to learn from an early age that it was normal for an adult to touch them; although penetration wasn’t allowed until they were five.”
Remi jumps up from the glider and rushes to the porch railing. Her head barely makes it over the side before she’s gagging and spewing up her dinner. Her reaction isn’t surprising and even expected. My own stomach is barely holding onto its contents. Every time I think about a child being abused in that way, I have to take deep breathes to force the vomit away. Now is no different. I’m sure her thoughts drifted to her own child. The thought of something like that happening to Elijah brings on a rage so strong my hands shake with the force of it.
I get up from the glider and go to Remi. Her hair has fallen forward, so I gather it into my hands, so she doesn’t get chunks of food in it. She dry heaves several more times before she stands with her hands on the railing. Her head still hangs as she takes several deep breaths.
“I’m sorry,” she croaks.
What in the fuck is she apologizing for? Any decent person would get sick from what I just revealed to her.
I leave her long enough to grab the water bottle she brought outside with her. I thrust it at her.
“Here. Drink this.”
She snags the bottle, takes a big gulp, swishes it around her mouth before spitting it back out. She drinks more, swallowing this time, and then turns and leans against the railing, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes look blood shot and are filled with remorse.
“What happened to your sister?” she asks quietly, as if she knows the answer is a terrible one. “You said Mae and Dale took you and your brothers away. You didn’t mention your sister was with you.”
A sharp pain lances my chest and it takes iron will to keep from smashing my fist through the beam beside her.
My voice is gravelly when I answer. “She slit her own wrists when she was ten years old. My brothers and I found her in the gazebo. She was already gone.”
Remi jerks as if someone just slapped her and her hand flies to her stomach. “Oh God, Trouble. How awful.”
My jaw hurts from grinding my molars so hard. Whenever I think about my sister, I want to rail with rage and beat the shit out of something.
“Why did you guys come back here? I don’t think I could ever go back to the place that held such painful memories.”
I turn away, brace my hands on the railing, and stare out at the waning sun. Another thirty minutes and it’ll be dark.
“Because we wanted to make this place more than what it was before. We wanted to erase the history of it and make it a safe place for people to come to who’ve been abused.”
“And the town name? Is that the reason why it was changed?”
“Yes,” I grunt. “Before my brothers and I moved back, we petitioned to have the name changed.”
“Why Malus?”