Chapter 7: My Mother's Voice

I stared at the phone in my trembling hands.

Mom.

The name I had not seen on a screen in more than a decade.

Dad lunged toward me.

"Give me that phone!"

I stepped backward and answered the call.

"Mom?"

For several seconds, there was only static.

Then a woman's trembling voice came through.

"Alex?"

My knees nearly gave out.

"Mom, is that really you?"

"Yes. Don't trust your father. You need to leave the chapel immediately."

Dad rushed toward me, but Grandpa blocked his path.

"Let him hear her," Grandpa said quietly.

My voice broke.

"Where have you been all these years? Everyone told me you died."

"I was forced to disappear. Your father made sure nobody could find me."

I looked at Dad.

He stood motionless, his face drained of color.

"Why did you leave me?" I whispered.

"I didn't abandon you. I tried to take you with me, but your father discovered my plan. The night I escaped, he told the village that I had died."

My chest tightened.

"Then why didn't you come back?"

"Because he threatened your life. He told me that if I ever returned, you would disappear too."

I closed my eyes as years of confusion finally began to make sense.

Every time I tried to leave, Dad dragged me back.

Every time I got close to someone, that person was brought into the chapel.

Every woman who entered was shown the same carefully prepared lies.

My father had spent ten years making sure I remained alone.

"Mom, what's actually inside the chapel?"

Her voice became urgent.

"The chapel was built over an old interrogation chamber. Your ancestors used it to force confessions and manipulate people. Your father turned that place into a family secret."

"How does it change everyone who goes inside?"

"It doesn't change them, Alex. They're drugged."

I froze.

"What?"

"There are chemicals hidden in the incense and drinks they give visitors. The women become confused and highly suggestible. Then your father shows them fabricated recordings and documents designed to make them believe you're dangerous."

My stomach turned.

"So Marilyn..."

"She was manipulated. Just like the others."

I remembered Marilyn's hands around my throat.

For the first time, I didn't feel hatred toward her.

I felt horror.

My mother continued.

"But the chapel isn't the only secret. Your father has been using the village's authority to hide what he does. Anyone who learns the truth is threatened or forced to cooperate."

"What about Grandpa?"

There was silence.

Then Mom said softly, "Your grandfather knew. He tried to stop him years ago."

I looked at the old man.

Tears were running down his face.

"I failed your mother," he whispered.

"I thought I could protect you by staying quiet. I was wrong."

Dad suddenly grabbed a metal rod from the shelf.

"Enough!"

He raised it toward me.

Grandpa stepped between us.

"Dwayne, don't do this."

Dad shoved him aside.

I ran.

I climbed the stone stairs as fast as my injured body allowed.

Behind me, Dad shouted.

"You don't understand what will happen if you expose us!"

I reached the vestry and grabbed the evidence box.

The photographs, letters, recordings, and my mother's phone were now in my possession.

I didn't need to understand everything yet.

I only needed to survive long enough to expose it.

I burst through the chapel doors and ran toward the village road.

For the first time in ten years, nobody stopped me.

Then my mother's voice came through the phone again.

"Alex, listen carefully. There's one final thing you need to know."

"What?"

"Your father didn't choose you as the victim by accident."

I stopped running.

"What do you mean?"

Her voice trembled.

"The chapel's records say that when you were born, the elders decided you would become the next keeper of the chapel."

I stared back at the building behind me.

"That's why he never let me leave."

"Yes," Mom whispered. "They didn't want to kill you. They wanted to break you first, so you'd eventually take your father's place."

I looked at the chapel one last time.

For ten years, I had thought I was fighting for a chance to be loved.

Now I understood that I had been fighting for my freedom.

I tightened my grip on the evidence box.

"Mom, I'm coming to find you."

"No," she said immediately. "First, go to the police station outside the county. Take the evidence with you. Don't trust anyone from the village."

I nodded even though she couldn't see me.

Then I heard footsteps behind me.

Dad and the others had reached the road.

But this time, I wasn't alone.

Several cars had stopped near the village entrance.

Reporters stepped out with cameras.

Behind them stood a group of investigators.

Someone had finally received the recordings I had secretly uploaded before my father destroyed my devices.

Dad stopped dead.

I looked at him and realized something for the first time.

He was afraid of me.

Not because I was strong.

But because the truth was finally stronger than the chapel.