Read The Harrowing for Free Online Page B

look, almost purely sexual.
    Lisa reached across the carpet and grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, lifted it. “Pop quiz. ‘Why It Sucks At Home’—in twenty-five words or less.” She extended the bottle to Patrick with a dangerous smile.
    He handed it back to her, mockingly gallant. “ Ladies first.”
    Lisa sat back on her heels, counted her words off on her fingers. “Bad girl from bad family does bad things with bad people…feels really…bad. Will try anything to feel good.”
    There was bright sarcasm in her voice, facetious and facile. But Robin understood she’d spoken the exact truth, and admired her for it.
    Lisa drank deeply from the bottle, wiped her mouth suggestively, and thrust the bottle toward Robin, bright manic eyes daring her.
    Robin slowly reached and took the bottle, felt the smooth square glass under her hand. Lisa watched her, waiting. Robin half-shrugged, tried to match Lisa’s light tone. “Mom is crazy… Home is crazy…” She stopped, looked down at the stained rose on the carpet. Then she spoke softly, hating the quaver in her voice. “So Dad threw us away and started over.”
    She forced her eyes up, looked at the others. “I feel like I’m broken. And I hate everyone who’s whole.”
    There was a silence, then Cain suddenly reached from the couch, touched her arm. “Who doesn’t?”
    She looked at him, felt tears push at her eyes and throat. She raised the bottle and drank, grateful for the sting of whiskey. Then she looked again at Cain and extended the bottle, meeting his eyes in the darkness.
    She could almost feel him pull back, though he didn’t move. Then he took the bottle, spoke flatly. “Mother— dead. Father—unknown.” His lips twisted. “In case you’re wondering, foster care in this country is truly for shit.”
    He drank without looking at anyone, then turned to Patrick, holding the bottle out.
    Patrick looked at the bottle, slumped deliberately back against the armchair. “Ha. No way, losers.”
    Cain and Lisa exploded at him simultaneously.
    “You pussy.” Lisa shoved his leg hard.
    “Cough it up, wuss.”
    Patrick’s eyes darted around, defensive. Robin looked at him with silent reproach.
    Patrick grabbed the bottle from Cain. He took a deep toke from his joint, spoke through held breath. “Prominent surgeon Dad commits Mom to mental hospital to get custody of son. Pumps son full of steroids to create ultimate football machine.”
    He exhaled smoke, stared at the three of them truculently. There was a stunned silence as the words sunk in.
    Cain spoke softly into the void. “And you hate football.”
    Patrick smiled thinly. “Got that right, Coach. But it’s all I know.” He chugged whiskey. Behind him, logs snapped and popped in the fireplace.
    Martin coughed in the back. They all turned, surprised, as he began to speak, the flickering light from the candles playing over his face. “Orthodox rabbi father’s only wish is for only son to take over rabbinate. Only—son doesn’t believe in God.”
    He started to laugh, then stopped abruptly. A silence fell again, a speechless intimacy. Smoke from the joint drifted in the air, burned harsh in Robin’s throat.
    Lisa spoke dryly. “Well, that was fun. What the hell do we do next?” She pushed herself up and stood, stretching languidly as she meandered toward the built-in walnut cabinets.
    Robin looked at Cain and Patrick, then leaned over for the bottle of whiskey and stood. She walked over to Martin’s table and stopped beside him, extended the bottle.
    He looked up at her, startled, blushing. Robin pushed the bottle closer, insistent. Martin reached hesitantly to take it.
    In the room behind them, Lisa screamed.
    Everyone jumped, twisting toward her. She was half inside the built-in game cupboard by the fireplace, tugging at something.
    She pulled back, freeing a long box from beneath a stack of old board games, and turned into the room to display her find.
    “Looky looky.”
    The