Chapter 4 - 1973

the oppressive darkness that lived there. For the first time in my entire life, I finally felt free, free to pursue what I desired, free to make my own choices, and free from the overbearing gloom that I had grown so accustomed to. College was a high point in my life and will forever remain just that. But college doesn't last forever. The lulls and studying come more often than

I realized. When I left Lighthouse at eighteen, I was so sure I wouldn't have to return until I was done with my degree, and even then I was hopeful to get a job straight from there. You don't think about the holidays or summer breaks, where they often force you to leave campus, sending you back home, or people

often enjoyed the times with their families, not me. If possible, I tried to avoid going back to the house by either staying with new friends, taking on odd jobs to pay for off campus housing, or in one situation, hiding out in my dorm room for two weeks hoping that no one would notice. But during times I had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to turn, I returned to Lighthouse,

much to my dismay. Even then, I tried to spend as much time out of the house as possible, but at the end of the day, the outcome was the same. I had to return home. My days and nights there were filled with more of the same as when I was a child, restless evenings and encounters with the various entities that roamed its halls. I did my best to ignore them, avoiding spots I knew they would frequent, but sometimes it was impossible not to engage, and my family

was well. Things with them were getting worse by the day. A part of me was sad I couldn't do anything to fix it, But the rest of me was just glad I didn't have to watch it unfold before my eyes in real time. As much as I wanted to help, I couldn't help those who didn't want to help themselves. Instead, I merely saw snapshots flashes of the deterioration every three months or so when I spent time at the house. When I first left for college, I thought my life

was finally just beginning. But when I was finished with college, which unfortunately was not on my own terms, I realized how low life could get. I had no choice but to return to Lighthouse then. But that was not even the worst of it. No, that was to come shortly after I moved back home and realized that Lighthouse demanded a sacrifice, one that my family would pay for. In Blood Lighthouse, Chapter four, nineteen seventy three. Over my years away,

my family drifted further and further apart. My father, drunk and unemployed, spent what little he had from workers' compensation on his vices, spending long days still in his study. When he wasn't in there, he was often getting angry at the slightest altercations, beating my mother for them, and then falling asleep back in his study. It was a cycle that was off repeated, and while I was thankful to not be privy to it while I was away,

the moments I did see broke my heart. My mother tried to stand up for herself a few times, but over the years she stopped trying. She would never win in these fights, and though she once had some sway over my father's actions, she had lost that since moving into the house. Instead, she coped in her own way, taking solace in a bottle of her own. She was often lost in her thoughts, staring into space, perhaps imagining a better life for herself. She once stood tall, a smart,

respectable woman, conscious of her appearance and self worth. Now she was lucky if she even got dressed for the day. Alcoholism was beginning to run in the family. Cleanie was well despite our meager age difference, it was obvious that Lighthouse had stunted her growth and maturity. While there were flashes of her acting like a mature young adult, she seemed to be stuck as an eight year old version of herself. She wasn't making many friends at school and

often spent her time isolated, much like my parents. However, she had a friend, Abigail, who she spoke of often. She spent much of her time with her in the dark room. Unfortunately, those things concerned me the days leading up to my eventual return to Lighthouse. For breaks, I was often thrown into a terrible depression. My mood would

dampen and I was inconsolable. My sleep was plagued with nightmares, nightmares about everything the house had to offer, and sometimes, just sometimes, I thought I would catch glimpses of the man in the hat around campus. It was silly to think that, of course, as I was sure that he couldn't be anywhere but the house. I did have a bright spot, someone that could make me feel better and showed me that the world I wanted to live in was worth fighting for. His name was Mark Henderson. I

met Mark shortly after I arrived at college. I was assigned a room, but a few weeks in I began to have issues with my roommate. Instead of waiting it out until the next semester, my roommate went behind my back to complain about me to the housing authority, which resulted in my getting a room change, which thankfully worked out to my advantage. Anyway, on the day of the move, I lugged my suitcases across campus to my new building.

As the light rain began to fall, I tripped over something on my way, perhaps a rock or my own clumsy feet, and even though I was fine when the suitcases hit the ground. One of them sprang open, clothing spilled all over the sidewalk, and with the rain coming down harder, they were getting soaked. I quickly dropped to my knees, embarrassed and began to grab at everything. The wind was picking up and caught some of my shirts

in the breeze, taking them further away. I was about to cry in despair, thinking that I would never catch them when he appeared. A strong and handsome Mark grabbed the wayward clothing for me and helped me gather everything back to where they were supposed to be. I had never met him before that moment, but he was kind enough to carry my suitcases for me the rest of

the way. Once inside, both of us drenched, I got my first good look at him and instantly fell in love and to think all of that before he even introduced himself. After that, we were inseparable aside from a few puppy love encounters when I was a young girl, Mark was my first true boyfriend the entirety of my college career. We were together. I spent some holidays with him and his family, and even went on vacation a time or two. We grew close and I shared everything

with him, everything but lighthouse. Whenever the topic of my family came up, I tried to divert to something else. Most of the time, Mark was respectful enough to understand, but he did try to at times. The tiny morsels of information I gave him seemed to sate his curiosity, but I knew eventually I would have to talk to him about it, especially since as we got closer to our senior year we began to talk about our future together. I only mentioned Mark to my family once before realizing

that it was better not to. My mother seemed wholly uninterested, her entire view of marital bliss having gone down the drain in recent years. Leani took an attitude as if I thought I was better than she was for having a boyfriend, and it just started a fight with my father, as he didn't like his little girl spending so much time with a boy. I'll rip his throat out if he lays a hand on you, he said, his violent

nature seeping out again. The irony of him saying as much while he was abusing my mother was not lost on me. It was all so strange that he became so protective in that moment, since he had been so distant for years, perhaps it was meant to be more controlling than anything else. He ranted raved After that, I let him go until he tired out, and he collapsed back in his easy chair before running to my room to cry. When I got back to college, Mark consoled

me over it. He sensed what a toxic environment it was there, but he wrongfully assumed it was just because of my family. But he was so kind and sweet to me and assured me that after school ended, I wouldn't have to go back to that house ever again if I didn't want to, and I didn't want to, I wanted to be with him. Unfortunately, he didn't get

to keep that promise. At the beginning of our next semester, I found Mark consoling another young co ed in our bed when I came home from class early one day. He had been consoling many others in our bed over the years, because college was a time to have some fun. I had staked my entire life on this man, only for him to break my heart into a million pieces. I watched the life we had planned together, the one I had cared fully constructed, and my head over the

years crumble before my eyes. I dropped out of school during my final semester. I should have stuck it out, since I had worked so hard, but it was too late to find affordable housing, and Mark was in all my classes. I couldn't handle going to a class and seeing him there every single day. The heartbreak was too much to handle. I packed my things and within a week I was back at Lighthouse. As the cab pulled up to the long driveway, a house looming in the distance,

my heart dropped to my stomach. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to get stuck in a rut like the rest of my family and be chained to a place I hated. I didn't want to lose myself in Lighthouse with no hope of ever getting out. Foolishly, I put all my eggs in one basket with college and with Mark, and when the rug was taken out from under me, I had no backup plan. Now I was forced to come up with the new life plan,

will be trapped there forever. When the cab stopped in front of the house to let me out, I happened to glance to the third story window. Standing there behind the glass was the man in the hat. A ghastly smile formed on his lips as he tipped his hat in my direction, welcoming me back home. I read something more into this gesture, something far more sinister. As he disappeared backward into the shadows, I saw something more than

a simple greeting. This was a message, a message that said I belonged to Lighthouse, and no matter what I did to get away, there was no escape. Lighthouse will return after these messages. And now back to Lighthouse. Being as how, it was early February and I should have been in class. My mother was unsure of who I was when I found her in the solarium. I startled her out of a mid day stupor, an empty bottle of Chardonnay by her side on one of the long couches.

Her glassy eyes were unfocused in the sharp sunlight, and at first she confused me for LENI. When I helped her sit up and told her it was me, she shook her head as if to try to shake the drunk away. Her hands cold and clammy, reached out for me and cuppt my face. A smile appeared as she kissed my forehead, telling me she was happy I came home, until her expression changed. She asked me why I was home.

I hadn't cried on any one's shoulder, let alone my mother's, for years, but in that moment I needed her more than ever. I let it all out, from the blissful ignorance of my relationship with Mark to the eventual downfall of our life together. She listened. For the first time in forever. I felt like my mother was truly there for me. She caressed my hair as I poured my heart out, and continued to hold me until the tears

stopped flowing. When I finally lifted my head up, she looked at me and told me how sorry she was, right before she slapped me across the face. I was too shocked to feel it at first, but my hand instinctively went to my cheek. Foolish girl, she uttered as it began to stink. You should know better. She walked out of the solarium, leaving me alone to cry again, but this time for a wholly different reason. I sobbed

in silence, my eyes looking toward the lighthouse outside. Later that night, I somehow mustered up enough courage to join my family for dinner. My mother was already seated, leaning by her side, holding on to that teddy bear she found in the dark room. Once Leni saw me, she bounded up and wrapped me in a big hug. I hadn't seen her since I returned, as she presumably was in the dark room, but seeing her now did bring a tiny bit of joy to my day. I fiercely

hugged her back. I'm so happy you're home, she whispered in my ear. Before I could respond, she followed up with, Abigail is too. At the mere mention of the name, my body unconsciously recoiled back from her, but she didn't seem to notice. She sat back down, placing Abigail on the table next to her plate as I studied her. Dinner had apparently come in the middle of her applying makeup, as there was a dark patch on her right cheek where she apparently started to apply some rouge and then

stopped to come down to eat. We picked out our food for a few minutes, an undercooked chicken that my mother didn't mind risking salmonel for when, much to my surprise, my father appeared in the doorway. He had somehow tore himself away from his busy schedule of locking himself away in his study to join us. He slumped down into his chair and looked up at me, and then to my mother. What's she doing here? He asked? To everyone but me, there is home now, my mother replied. My

father finally looked back at me. School's done, he asked, it is for me? I told him, miserably, still picking at my dinner. What's that supposed to mean? He said, She and Mark broke up. My mother chimed in. Before I had a chance to say anything else, he cheated on her. A silence fell over the table, no one quite sure what to say next. I was embarrassed that my mother told my father, as I would have preferred to tell him on my own terms. But it was

out in the open now, with no going back. My father broke the hush on his own good, he said, shoveling a forkful of half wrought chicken in his mouth. I never liked him anyway. Abigail never liked him either, LENI followed with quickly. My father roared at her in response, What did I tell you about Abigail? He yelled, leaping from his seat with a quickness. I wasn't aware he was still capable of I told you I don't want her anywhere near the dinner table let alone. You speaking

that name in this house again? Do you hear me? Leni's eyes looked down at her plate, quick to comply, A meek sorry escaped her lips. What was that? He roared again, still staring at her. Her eyes darted in his direction for a second before looking away again. It dawned on me then that the dark spot was not an interrupted make up attempt, but instead a bruise, one that looked fairly fresh. At some point, my father had

apparently added hitting my sister in his repertoire. I'm sorry, she said, louder this time, all the while my mother ignored the goings on. That's what I thought, he said, You listen to me, if you know what's good for you, you hear It was clear to me that things had degraded even further in the past few months, With both my sister and my mother living in fear of my each was eager to ignore the plights of the other as a way to escape his wrath, if only for

a few seconds. But now that I was home, now that I was forced to be here again. It wasn't how I wanted to live. I refused to be under his thumb, meekly obeying him. No one was standing up to him. No one said a thing, but I wasn't going to stand for that. I don't know what came over me then, but a single word escaped my lips. No. The room fell silent again. Leani gave me only the briefest of glances, clutching Abigail tight while my mother turned

her head. My father, still standing, slowly walked over to me, rubbing the scar on his palm a feat of champions in his apparently inebriated state. He placed a hand on the back of my chair and leaned in close, his sour breath causing me a bit of nausea. What was that, smartmouth? I turned my head and looked him square in the eyes, stealing all of my nerves to stand up to him, I said no. I felt the impact of his hand before I saw it. A backhanded slap sent me sprawling

off the chair and onto the dining room floor. My father's eyes burned with hatred as they stared down at me. How dare you, he bellowed, you ungrateful little bitch. I said nothing. I just laid there on the floor, my hand cradling my face from his hit. In a single day, both my parents had struck me, and the emotional repercussions

of that were worse than the physical ones. You think, just because you run off and leave your family to get an education, that you can disrespect a man in his own goddamn house, you think you're so goddamn special. He was working himself up into a frenzy, now, spittle flying from his lips as he raised his voice higher and higher. His avalanche of emotion scared me as it was apparent that he kept all the sin for years.

It up to all come out at once. I don't care what fancy books you learn from out there, but this year is my house, my house, and you will obey my rules. To accentuate his point, he took my chair and tossed it backwards, shattering the wood backing. My sister flinched as it cracked, while my mother finally looked in my direction, my eyes silently pleading for help, anyone's help, But neither of them moved muscle. As my father continued, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have been in

this mess. You know. You forget all I did for you, all the money I spent on you, trying to make you well. But if you're going to be back here, you're going to have to learn some respect. And I'll be goddamned if you don't respect me in my own goddamned house. And if you don't, I will teach you some respect. You understand me, do you? Every part of my brain screamed at me to agree to say whatever

needed to be. He said, to stop this before it got any worse, but something inside me refused to do so. I couldn't stop the words from spilling from my lips, and I regretted them almost as soon as they came out. Fuck you. The air in the room changed. It became stale and lifeless, like we were running out of the fine eye amount of oxygen. We were locked in therewith lean.

He gasped, and my mother looked, shocked that such words would ever be uttered in her presence, and my father fire raged behind his eyes as his brain began to comprehend the disobedience I had displayed behind him in the darkening hallway, over his left shoulder stood the man in the hat. He looked on, a smile crossing his face as he nodded his head, clearly enjoying how the scene was unfolding before him. You little bitch, my father said, d my attention back to him as he undid his

belt and wounded around his hand. I'll teach you some respect. He whipped me with the belt, the buckle, slashing a thin cut across my arm. I cried in surprise, beads of blood falling onto the floor. I crawled backward, trying to get away, but the buckle found its target again and again my arm, again, my leg, and even once across my cheek. My father kept coming toward me, dark circles growing under his eyes, and his body stinking of sweat every strike. I begged him to stop, and yet

he didn't. I finally backed up against the wall as he stood towering over me. I put my hands up to my face to block the next blow as he prepared one, but it never came. I chanced to look and saw that my mother had grabbed the belt and midswing, preventing it from hitting me again. Get away from her, Henry, she said, with a slight tremble in her voice. He turned to her, his fury growing, but my mother didn't care. Despite her flaws, she had had enough of his abuse.

She looked at me and shouted run. I didn't hesitate. I got up, ran towards Leanie and pulled her with me out of the room. We ran out of the dining room and into the main hall. Behind us, we heard our father strike our mother, the impact reverberating through the house, but we didn't stop. Self preservation was the only thing on our mind. I directed us towards the stairs. My hope was that we could barricade ourselves in a

room up there while we called for help. We had only taken the bottom step when he appeared around the corner, a murderous gleam in his eye. Get back here, you little bitches. We bound up the stairs as fast as we could. He gave chase, taking the steps two at a time to close the gap between us. My mother appeared behind him as well, still trying to stop the madness. Once we were up the stairs, we made down the

hall for one of the spare bedrooms. We passed a window and I could see the lighthouse in though it was dark. Earlier. That was no longer the case. The glow was back. I was distracted. It stopped me cold in my tracks. I stared at it, the glowing pulsing brighter than I had ever seen, as if energized by the goings on in the house. This frightened me more than anything else, because it meant that it was going to get worse. This momentary distraction was all the time

my father needed to gain on us. Thankfully, he tripped on the top step, giving us a few seconds to escape and my mother time to catch up with him. She threw herself at him, jumping onto his back, clawing at his face. Hell hath no fury like a woman protecting her young, and I was never more glad to see her do so. I don't know why, but Lennie and I stopped running for safety and instead watched their struggle. Mother had the upper hand first, managing to get the

belt away from him, but my father was stronger. He stood up, my mother still attached to his back until he slammed himself backwards into a wall. My mother let go of my father, slumping to the floor. He turned on her wildly, aiming to strike, but she avoid I did a punch and went for his legs. Somehow he managed to keep his balance and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her off of him. Just beyond them again was the man in the hat, watching intently, sinister smile never

leaving his face. My parents paid him no mind as they continued to fight, my father striking her again and again, weakening her defenses. They were dangerously close to the railings separating part of the hallway of the second floor from the drop down to the first. For each scratch, my mother lashed out with my father returned two blows. I could see mother slowing down as LEMI began to cry. He pulled my mother up and hit her in the

face again and again. As the man in the hat got closer, his grin was ear to ear, now filled with bloodlust. My mother's back was to the railing, now the wood the only thing preventing her from going over. But I saw what my father intended to do. With one strong thrust, my father pushed my mother through the railing beneath her. She stumbled backward over it and bounding the floor below. Lighthouse Will returned after a word from

our sponsors, and now Lighthouse continues. Lenie screamed and wrestled out of my grip. She ran down the stairs into my mother's side. My father just stood there looking down at them, breathing heavily. When he didn't make a move, I thought it was safe enough to follow and ran down to my mother as well. She stared upward, unmoving but thankfully still breathing. Lenie pulled her head into her lap and rest her hair, crying into it, repeating, please

don't die, mother, Please don't die. I love you. I ran for the kitchen. I dialed the police and tried to gather my thoughts to explain what had happened. The line rang and rang and rang, a seemingly endless call, until finally the operator picked up on the other end. Just as I opened my mouth to ask for help, Leni let out a blood curdling scream from the hall. I dropped the phone, leaving the person on the other

end hanging. As I made my way back to her, I stopped short when I saw her still holding my unmoving mother, staring down the end of the hall. My father must have come down the stairs when I went for the phone, because now he was coming out of his study He held the shotgun, the one from the trophy wall in his hands. He wasn't done with us yet. He intended to finish the job. Get up, he said to Leni, and pointed the shotgun straight at her. She

didn't move at first, still cradling our mother's head. My father pointed the gun at the ceiling above him pulled the trigger. The blast made us all jump as it echoed within the hallways of the house. He aimed it back at leani I said, get up. This time she did, gently, lowering my mother's head to the ground. Leanie, tears streaming down her face, pleaded for her life. As my father moved closer, leani I said, trying to be calm, come to me. You're not going anywhere, my father replied, moving

the end of the shotgun between us both. Leani I said again. She started to move toward me, but my father had other ideas. He aimed for her and pulled the trigger again. The blast struck her legs, knocking her to the ground, her cries of agony bringing me to tears. I'll teach you to disobey me, you little bitch, my father said, as he looked at me. He started to reload his shotgun, pulling a shell from his pocket. I'm coming for you. Next, you have to the count of five. One.

I didn't move. I didn't want to leave both my mother and Leni there to incur his wor but I also hoped to keep his attention on me to get away from them. Two. I didn't have much time to think, but I wasn't sure what my decision would be. Three run Leani yelled at me, and that did it for me. I took off down the hall again, back toward the kitchen. Four I grabbed the dangling phone and yelled for them to send help. Five I took off again, this time

toward the pantry. I hope that somehow I could lure my father down into the basement and lose him among the stacks and rows to double back up the stairs and lock him inside. It wasn't the best of plans, but it was the only one I had. I threw open the basement door and nearly tumbled down the stairs. My legs, still sore from the beating he gave me earlier, slowed my progress. I had to be quiet down here, not give away where I was hiding. And then, maybe,

just maybe, my plan would work. My eyes darted around in the darkness for somewhere to hide. There weren't many things to hide behind down here. There was only one suitable hiding place that came to mind, darkroom. I made my way toward it as I heard my father's footfalls overhead coming for me. I was glad to find the dark room's door open. Once inside, I huddled down and held my breath, listening. He was coming down the stairs. A creak of every step was like the sound of

my own death approaching. When he reached the bottom, he cried out again, come out here, tera don't make this worse for yourself. I covered my mouth, trying to quiet myself more, and waited. There was only silence. Was this a trick? I waited some more, straining my ears to listen for him, but there was still nothing. Where was he? As I hid there in the dark of the basement. I decided to brave a look and peered around the

door frame of the dark room. I nearly screamed when I spotted my father at the end of the row, shot guns still in hand, his shoulders heaving, he merely stood there, a hulking form in the dark It looked as if he was collecting his thoughts, determining his next move My breath caught in my throat as I saw a movement on his right side, swirling mass of darkness, almost imperceptible to the human eye if not for the slight contrast between the gloom of the basement and the

darkness of its form. It was the shadowy thing leaning over my father, whispering in his ear. Again, it wrapped itself around him, tendrils of its darkness seeping into my father's skin. As it became part of him. Even from where I was standing, I could see the light go out in his eyes, the fire replaced by a funeral pyre of blackness. I was frozen with fear, not believing what I saw. I clenched my eyes shut, hoping that my old trick would help wish it away. One two, three,

four five. I took a breath and opened my eyes, and my father was still there, the shadowy thing still forcing its way inside him. Just like the way it bulged and stretched out the walls, it did the same with sections of his flesh. It was revolting. Just before the last of it absorbed into him. He looked up and what was left of his eyes met mine. I dropped back, hopeful that it was a mere coincidence, but

in my heart I knew better. I heard the gravel crunch under his boots as he made his way toward me. I panicked. In the heat of my fight or flight, I wasn't thinking clearly and had backed myself into a literal corner by hiding in the dark room. There was nowhere to hide in there, nowhere to run. But this is where I would make my final stand. If this was the moment I would die, I was going to

go down fighting. I had only seconds before he arrived, so I frantically began to look for something, a weapon of some sort to defend myself. My hands searching the shelf, knocking photo albums and chemicals from places they had sat for for years, but alas there was nothing. In my desperation, I had a moment of clarity. It had been years since the incident, but I thought back to the first

time I found Leani down here, laughing with Abigail. She held a hunting knife out to me then before I took it and hid it away beneath the work bench. It was a long shot but it was my only chance. I fell to my knees, my hand searching for the hidden shelf beneath the bench, fingers grasping for purchase. But there was nothing, no shelf, no knife, and sadly, no hope. I pulled my hand back, only to brush up against something solid, the knife. Somehow I missed it earlier, but

it was still there. I grabbed it and jumped to my feet, pressing myself against the wall adjacent to the doorway. My father's shape filled the small doorway, as he was too tall to walk in directly. His body blocked what little light was allowed in the room, and I was plunged into darkness. I could see the glint of the shotgun's barrel poke through first, its tip almost sniffing the air, searching for me. I raised the hunting knife above my head, but hesitated, taking in the weight of what I was

about to do. This was my father, the man who raised me, who cared for me, who comforted me when it was needed. Our relationship had not been good for years, but in that moment I remembered all the good times that had come before, followed shortly by all the bad. He was also the man who beat my mother near daily, who wasted his life away drinking in his study, and now was coming to kill me. Using all the strength I could muster, I plunged the knife downward, directly into

his left shoulder. It met very little resistance as it slid into him like I was carving at Thanksgiving turkey. He screamed a mixture of pain and fury as he dropped the shotgun to the ground. I tried to be quick to grab it before he did, but he somehow managed to turn his body and land a punch into my sternum. With the wind knocked out of me, I slumped back against the wall, trying to regain my footing.

I washed as my father fully entered the room. As he reached for the knife still lodged in his back. He managed to grab it, and I heard his skin rip as he tore it out. He threw it to the ground, blackness swirling around him. I grabbed for the knife, but he kicked it away, out of the dark room and far out of my reach. I struggled to catch my breath, but he was already on me. His hands found their way around my throat and squeezed, pulling me away from the wall and down onto the ground, into

the dirt. He straddled me, his hands never losing their grip as he began to use his leverage to pull my head off the ground before slamming it back down again. The first time he did this, my vision went bright. The pain at the back of my head competed for attention with my gasping lungs, neither of them really winning the battle. I struggled against him, my hands reaching for

his trying to pry them oft so a vail. As I felt my consciousness slip away, he slammed my head against the floor, and my consciousness came back to reality. Blood from his shoulder dripped down, splashing onto me and into my mouth, making it even harder to breathe. The only thing I could focus on was the raving madness that consumed my father, My eyes pleading with him, trying to reach a part of him that still loved me, but I was failing. There was nothing but hatred there.

As his fingers clasped tighter, I thrashed my legs, trying to find enough purchase to tip him off balance, anything to help relieve the tension on my throat. I tried to jam my fingers into his eyes, but I was losing ground and my strength was leaving me. By the second. I began to see things, white spots appearing at the corner of my vision as my body struggled for a breath of fresh air. I felt my limbs betray me as I willed them to keep moving, but they slowed

to a crawl. I felt myself drifting away as my brain told me to stop fire and let it all go. Just a few more seconds and I could finally be at peace. The darkness began to encrouch in on me, and I saw the man in the hat one final time, standing behind my father, a hand on his bleeding shoulder as he smiled at me, and I hated that his

face would be the last thing I saw. I closed my eyes, and as my last breath escaped my body, I finally found solace in the fact that if my only escape from a lighthouse would be death, and so be it. I let go. Embracing the open arms of my demise, I felt relief. I was free, Fresh air filled my lungth I was confused. I was so sure I was dead, So okay with that fact that I was almost angry that I could breathe again. I opened my eyes to see my father still above me, but

he looked different. The darkness could no longer be found behind his eyes. Instead, they looked like two wide saucers staring at me in shock. His mouth parted as drops of blood fell from it and onto my face. He hung that way for a second before he collapsed, the full force of his weight landing on me the air. My body was so desperate for moments ago escaped again. There was something sticking out of the back of my father's head. I had to focus on it to make

sure I was not imagining it. It was the hunting knife buried in the base of his skull up to the hilt. My father was dead. I looked above him, expecting to see the man in the hat standing there, but he wasn't. It was Leany. Her eyes were equally as wide as my fathers were. She was in shock and on the verge of a full blown pain attack. I tried to call out to her as the realization

of what occurred came to me. Leni had somehow made her way down to the basement to save me, at the cost of taking the life of the man she called her father. That decision was something that would stay with her for the rest of her life. With what little strength that was returning, I managed to push his body off of me. It rolled to the side with a sick thump that almost made me pass out again. Leani covered her mouth in horror. I I killed him. I took my little sister into my arms, and we

both began to cry. The events of the day had taken a toll on us both, but there was a sense of catharsis as we let it out. I shielded her from the view of his body, but I couldn't take my eyes off of this lifeless husk that had once been my father. I just didn't know when it stopped being him. I could blame his misfortunes and that alcohol for creating the thing that he had become, but

deep inside I knew that wasn't really him. He had tried to protect us from lighthouse, from the darkness living inside it, but we had foolishly come here anyway, and when we did, once that darkness got him into its clutches, it consumed him from the inside. I don't know if that rage that overtook his mind was always there, bubbling beneath the surface. But I do know that the house did nothing but make it worse. The person that Leany

killed that night was not our father. It was something that was twisted and distorted by an evil that gripped his soul and turned him into something he was not. Henry Michael Hollis was long gone, and now here we were, two young women huddled together in the dark, crying for what once was. We cried as someone finally arrived to help. We cried as the police pulled us apart to question us about what happened. We cried when we saw our mother broken by her fall down the stairs, but still

holding on. We cried as they took our father's body away, covered by a sheet, as if that would do anything to protect us from seeing him. We cried for the nightmares that were yet to come. We cried for our ruined childhood. We cried for the impossible choice LEMI had to make. We cried because we realized that lighthouses hunger for blood was sated for now. Lighthouse is a production

of iHeartRadio and Bamfur Productions. Chapter four featured the voice of Ali Trasher, written and directed by Jeff Heinbuch audio engineering, an original musical score by Celeste Production assistance by Alex Gona. Executive produced by Holly Fry. Questions comments, you can reach us at the Man in the Hat Is Watching at gmail dot com. Thank you for listening.