Page 56 of The Vanishing Place

Dad had to do it. It was the only way to make Dinah clean and good again.

Adam reached out a skinny arm and knocked on her door. Dinah was lucky to have Dad. Adam loved Dinah too much. He wouldn’t be able to do the things that Dad had to. And because Adam was weak, God wouldn’t love Dinah anymore.

“Dinah,” he whispered. “You can come out now.”

Three days shut away wasn’t too bad. Sometimes Dinah was locked away for more than a week. No talking. No visits. No playing. No leaving her room. Sometimes it took a long time for Dinah to say sorry.

“Dinah?” Adam pushed the door open and walked inside.

She was sitting on her bed, looking out the window. There was nothing to see but trees and sky and thick bush. But she kept staring at the glass. Daniel’s old bush hut was out there—a few branches and wooden planks that he’d turned into a den—although it was too deep in the trees to see.

“I missed you,” said Dinah.

Adam stepped toward her. “What did you do?” he asked.

She turned. A dark purple bruise—not nice to look at—covered one side of her jaw.

“Dad caught me watching TV through the neighbor’s window.”

Adam frowned. “But you’re not allowed to watch TV.”

Dinah just smiled at that, her lips stretched thin and straight.

Dad said that Dinah didn’t know how to behave, that she allowed the outside world to poison her thoughts. Dad said that Dinah made God angry.

Adam hopped onto the small bed. The bed was the only thing in Dinah’s room. No toys. No books. No spare clothes. Nothing to distract her from saying sorry. Adam bit into his tongue, a little afraid of the purple-blue smudge, but Dinah shuffled over and pulled him in for a hug.

“Aren’t you scared of him?” asked Adam.

“Of Dad?”

“No.” Adam shook his head and pulled away. “Of God.”

“Why would I be afraid of God?”

“Cos he’s mad at you.”

“God isn’t mad at me.”

“Dad says that God wants to punish you for being bad…for not doing the right girl things.” Adam frowned. Maybe Dinah didn’t understand. Maybe if he helped her, then she could be good again. “When girls are bad,” he said slowly, “God won’t let them go to heaven.”

“And what do good girls do?”

“Well, they always look after their family…” Adam paused to think. “And they don’t do anything sinful, like talking and eating with outside people, or watching TV, or wearing pants.”

“And why can’t I wear pants?”

Adam frowned. “It just…it just makes God real angry.”

“I see.”

“And when God’s angry, he’s real scary and he stops loving you.”

“God isn’t someone to fear, Adam.” Dinah smiled.

“God loves me no matter what. And he loves you too.” She touched his cheek.

“God’s love is so big and so strong that he has enough love for everyone.

For every single person in the whole world, even people who sin.

God made us who we are, and he loves us.

He doesn’t need us to be perfect.” She reached out and took Adam’s hand. “Because he is perfect.”

“No.” Adam snatched his hand back, shaking his head fiercely. “Dad said that—”

“Dad doesn’t know anything about God or God’s love. Dad just wants to control us and keep us afraid.”

Adam inched away. Dinah was making it worse; she was making God madder.

“Dad twists things and makes things up,” she said, “and then he says it comes from God. But it’s all a lie.”

“Stop saying that,” Adam begged. “He’ll punish you.”

“Dad might punish me, yes. But not God.”

Dinah’s voice sounded different, louder and bigger, and Adam didn’t like it.

“Dad is not a good man, Adam.”

“Don’t say that!” he cried.

“Do you really think that a good man would lock his daughter up for days?”

“Stop talking. Stop!”

He covered his ears, but Dinah tugged his hands away.

“Do you really think it’s okay that Dad has stopped me from going to school and that he shuts me up in this room with nothing to do and barely anything to eat?”

“Stop it. Stop it. ”

“God doesn’t talk to Dad,” Dinah snapped.

“You’re lying. Liar. Liar.” Adam was shaking. “God does talk to Dad. Dad is protecting you.”

“From what?”

“From the wicked world.”

Dinah snorted. “Cameron is going to come and get me,” she said, “and we’re going to leave this prison. We’re going to run away and be free and happy and never come back.”

“No!” Adam shouted. “You’re not allowed to leave.”

Dinah flinched, her eyes wide and sad and hurt, but Adam didn’t care.

“ You’re my Dinah ,” he yelled. “If you ever try and leave, I’ll tell Dad, and he’ll lock you up forever and—”

She slapped him then.

Fire exploded through Adam’s cheek, and he started to cry. The bones in his face hurt. His eyeball hurt. His teeth hurt.

“Adam,” Dinah said, her strong voice gone. Tears trailed down her face as she reached for him. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She curled her arms around him, and Adam let her. He didn’t want to fight. He needed her. She was warm and smelled like summer.

“Please don’t leave me,” he sniffed.

“I won’t.” She stroked his hair and kissed his head. “Of course I won’t leave you.”

“And you’ll be good?” Adam wiped a hand across his dripping nose. “Please.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll be good.”