Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)(38)

Even now, with my father long gone and buried beneath the ground, Timothy stumbled over his vow to guard those secrets, and his own morality to make known the evils that had been committed beneath the roof of this parish and my childhood home.

Fortunately for me, his morality won that battle.

"Your father was a devout man, Jacob, as I'm sure you know. Everything he did in life he did for the Almighty. He gave God the use of his hands as a doctor to heal people and save lives. And, in his belief, at least until the day came where he knew he was facing death, he'd given over those same hands to God for the purpose of raising his sons. He truly believed that the punishment you and your brother suffered was for your own good, that he was fighting against the forces of the Devil to ensure that both your souls could be saved." He paused, breathing out heavily before darting his gaze back to the crucifix hanging behind me. "He didn't know what was happening to your brother when it first started. And from what he told me, he didn't find out until years later when Jericho and you were close to fourteen. He swore to me that if he'd known, he wouldn't have condoned the sexual abuse of his son.”

"However," he said, straightening his shoulders against the high back of his chair, "when he did discover what had occurred, when Jericho admitted it to him during one of the punishments your father was giving him, he, at first, believed your brother was lying."

I knew Timothy was being honest about this part. It matched what was written in my father's confession.

"Your father told me that Jericho only admitted the abuse at the parish because, through the years it was ongoing, he'd been made to believe that it was his fault it was happening. Jericho claimed that he believed he was temptation personified, for lack of a better word. That he had been told the priest and music director were innocent of evil because they had fallen prey to his lustful charms. Rather than seeing those words as proof that two men had intentionally warped the mind of a small child, your father initially believed that your brother was guilty of pride. What other person would assume that they were so desirable that two godly men could not resist the temptation to sin?"

My hands fisted over my lap, not because I was surprised to hear what Timothy was telling me, but because Eve had also been made to believe that she was the ultimate temptation. Jericho's warping of her mind hadn't been some original thought created from his evil need - it had been a repeat of the treachery committed by the men who'd first abused him. I'd already gone over the details of that realization in my head while spending the night pacing the floors of my childhood home. I'd already connected the dots that clearly illustrated how Jericho had known exactly how to brainwash Eve before he'd ever had the first chance to meet her.

"I think, at first, your father's refusal to believe the accusations Jericho made was a disassociation of sorts, a dividing line between his Faith and his opinion of his own son. He knew both his children to be wicked, as he put it, that like most impetuous youth, you two had a habit of being up to no good. It was difficult for him to see-"

"That the truly wicked are the men hiding behind the guise of faith while committing the worst of sin? That they are the men who should be feared above even blatant psychopaths and murderers?"

Inclining his head in agreement with my assessment, he reached out to straighten the cuffs of his sleeves. His voice was soft when he answered, "At least with most psychopaths, you see the evil coming. But with men hidden within and protected by the Church, by men who, in truth, should be the most holy, you never see it coming until it's too late."

"So, my father did nothing."

Nodding his head again, he cleared his throat and answered, "And the abuse continued until Jericho finally came forward after you left home."

Understanding hit me like a runaway train, plowing me over and tearing me apart. I was left as tattered ribbons with one screaming truth crushing my heart. Jericho had a reason for attacking me like he did, at least in his mind, he did. Because, whereas he had been used and hurt in so many ways, it appeared as if I had been the twin to escape unscathed. It made sense, maybe not to an outside person looking in, but in what was left of his fragile mind, I was just as much to blame for what happened to him.

After discovering the truth, I wondered why he'd never told me. Why he'd kept such a horrible secret from his twin. But then, as the evening hours carried on and I rolled all of this through my head, only one reason came to me: I'd never protected Jericho from my father, even after I'd fought back when he'd tried to continue abusing me. Why would I then help him against a form of abuse that was far worse than even my father could deliver?

The sad truth of that realization struck me far harder than anything I'd experienced in life. Flooded with guilt for everything that happened, I couldn't help but feel complicit in the destruction of my twin.

When I'd first come to this city to find answers for my brother's madness, it had been with revenge driving me forward. The same revenge was fueling me now, but rather than it being focused on the bastard that had delivered my Eve, it was towards the men who had originally created the monster, Elijah.

Opening the metal box, I pulled out my father's handwritten confession as well as the photographs he'd left tucked inside. Without bothering to look at them, I tossed them in Timothy's direction. By that point, I didn't need to look at them again. The images were already seared into my brain.