Speaker 1: Warning, this episode contains descriptions of domestic violence. Listener discretion
Speaker 1: is advised. Lighthouse is a production of iHeartRadio and Bamfur productions.
Speaker 1: When you're eighteen and full of ambition, you don't always
Speaker 1: think things through. Of course, I was happy to be
Speaker 1: out of Lighthouse, away from my crumbling family life and
Speaker 1: the oppressive darkness that lived there. For the first time
Speaker 1: in my entire life, I finally felt free, free to
Speaker 1: pursue what I desired, free to make my own choices,
Speaker 1: and free from the overbearing gloom that I had grown
Speaker 1: so accustomed to. College was a high point in my
Speaker 1: life and will forever remain just that. But college doesn't
Speaker 1: last forever. The lulls and studying come more often than
Speaker 1: I realized. When I left Lighthouse at eighteen, I was
Speaker 1: so sure I wouldn't have to return until I was
Speaker 1: done with my degree, and even then I was hopeful
Speaker 1: to get a job straight from there. You don't think
Speaker 1: about the holidays or summer breaks, where they often force
Speaker 1: you to leave campus, sending you back home, or people
Speaker 1: often enjoyed the times with their families, not me. If possible,
Speaker 1: I tried to avoid going back to the house by
Speaker 1: either staying with new friends, taking on odd jobs to
Speaker 1: pay for off campus housing, or in one situation, hiding
Speaker 1: out in my dorm room for two weeks hoping that
Speaker 1: no one would notice. But during times I had nowhere
Speaker 1: else to go, nowhere else to turn, I returned to Lighthouse,
Speaker 1: much to my dismay. Even then, I tried to spend
Speaker 1: as much time out of the house as possible, but
Speaker 1: at the end of the day, the outcome was the same.
Speaker 1: I had to return home. My days and nights there
Speaker 1: were filled with more of the same as when I
Speaker 1: was a child, restless evenings and encounters with the various
Speaker 1: entities that roamed its halls. I did my best to
Speaker 1: ignore them, avoiding spots I knew they would frequent, but
Speaker 1: sometimes it was impossible not to engage, and my family
Speaker 1: was well. Things with them were getting worse by the day.
Speaker 1: A part of me was sad I couldn't do anything
Speaker 1: to fix it, But the rest of me was just
Speaker 1: glad I didn't have to watch it unfold before my
Speaker 1: eyes in real time. As much as I wanted to help,
Speaker 1: I couldn't help those who didn't want to help themselves. Instead,
Speaker 1: I merely saw snapshots flashes of the deterioration every three
Speaker 1: months or so when I spent time at the house.
Speaker 1: When I first left for college, I thought my life
Speaker 1: was finally just beginning. But when I was finished with college,
Speaker 1: which unfortunately was not on my own terms, I realized
Speaker 1: how low life could get. I had no choice but
Speaker 1: to return to Lighthouse then. But that was not even
Speaker 1: the worst of it. No, that was to come shortly
Speaker 1: after I moved back home and realized that Lighthouse demanded
Speaker 1: a sacrifice, one that my family would pay for. In
Speaker 1: Blood Lighthouse, Chapter four, nineteen seventy three. Over my years away,
Speaker 1: my family drifted further and further apart. My father, drunk
Speaker 1: and unemployed, spent what little he had from workers' compensation
Speaker 1: on his vices, spending long days still in his study.
Speaker 1: When he wasn't in there, he was often getting angry
Speaker 1: at the slightest altercations, beating my mother for them, and
Speaker 1: then falling asleep back in his study. It was a
Speaker 1: cycle that was off repeated, and while I was thankful
Speaker 1: to not be privy to it while I was away,
Speaker 1: the moments I did see broke my heart. My mother
Speaker 1: tried to stand up for herself a few times, but
Speaker 1: over the years she stopped trying. She would never win
Speaker 1: in these fights, and though she once had some sway
Speaker 1: over my father's actions, she had lost that since moving
Speaker 1: into the house. Instead, she coped in her own way,
Speaker 1: taking solace in a bottle of her own. She was
Speaker 1: often lost in her thoughts, staring into space, perhaps imagining
Speaker 1: a better life for herself. She once stood tall, a smart,
Speaker 1: respectable woman, conscious of her appearance and self worth. Now
Speaker 1: she was lucky if she even got dressed for the day.
Speaker 1: Alcoholism was beginning to run in the family. Cleanie was
Speaker 1: well despite our meager age difference, it was obvious that
Speaker 1: Lighthouse had stunted her growth and maturity. While there were
Speaker 1: flashes of her acting like a mature young adult, she
Speaker 1: seemed to be stuck as an eight year old version
Speaker 1: of herself. She wasn't making many friends at school and
Speaker 1: often spent her time isolated, much like my parents. However,
Speaker 1: she had a friend, Abigail, who she spoke of often.
Speaker 1: She spent much of her time with her in the
Speaker 1: dark room. Unfortunately, those things concerned me the days leading
Speaker 1: up to my eventual return to Lighthouse. For breaks, I
Speaker 1: was often thrown into a terrible depression. My mood would
Speaker 1: dampen and I was inconsolable. My sleep was plagued with nightmares,
Speaker 1: nightmares about everything the house had to offer, and sometimes,
Speaker 1: just sometimes, I thought I would catch glimpses of the
Speaker 1: man in the hat around campus. It was silly to
Speaker 1: think that, of course, as I was sure that he
Speaker 1: couldn't be anywhere but the house. I did have a
Speaker 1: bright spot, someone that could make me feel better and
Speaker 1: showed me that the world I wanted to live in
Speaker 1: was worth fighting for. His name was Mark Henderson. I
Speaker 1: met Mark shortly after I arrived at college. I was
Speaker 1: assigned a room, but a few weeks in I began
Speaker 1: to have issues with my roommate. Instead of waiting it
Speaker 1: out until the next semester, my roommate went behind my
Speaker 1: back to complain about me to the housing authority, which
Speaker 1: resulted in my getting a room change, which thankfully worked
Speaker 1: out to my advantage. Anyway, on the day of the move,
Speaker 1: I lugged my suitcases across campus to my new building.
Speaker 1: As the light rain began to fall, I tripped over
Speaker 1: something on my way, perhaps a rock or my own
Speaker 1: clumsy feet, and even though I was fine when the
Speaker 1: suitcases hit the ground. One of them sprang open, clothing
Speaker 1: spilled all over the sidewalk, and with the rain coming
Speaker 1: down harder, they were getting soaked. I quickly dropped to
Speaker 1: my knees, embarrassed and began to grab at everything. The
Speaker 1: wind was picking up and caught some of my shirts
Speaker 1: in the breeze, taking them further away. I was about
Speaker 1: to cry in despair, thinking that I would never catch
Speaker 1: them when he appeared. A strong and handsome Mark grabbed
Speaker 1: the wayward clothing for me and helped me gather everything
Speaker 1: back to where they were supposed to be. I had
Speaker 1: never met him before that moment, but he was kind
Speaker 1: enough to carry my suitcases for me the rest of
Speaker 1: the way. Once inside, both of us drenched, I got
Speaker 1: my first good look at him and instantly fell in
Speaker 1: love and to think all of that before he even
Speaker 1: introduced himself. After that, we were inseparable aside from a
Speaker 1: few puppy love encounters when I was a young girl,
Speaker 1: Mark was my first true boyfriend the entirety of my
Speaker 1: college career. We were together. I spent some holidays with
Speaker 1: him and his family, and even went on vacation a
Speaker 1: time or two. We grew close and I shared everything
Speaker 1: with him, everything but lighthouse. Whenever the topic of my
Speaker 1: family came up, I tried to divert to something else.
Speaker 1: Most of the time, Mark was respectful enough to understand,
Speaker 1: but he did try to at times. The tiny morsels
Speaker 1: of information I gave him seemed to sate his curiosity,
Speaker 1: but I knew eventually I would have to talk to
Speaker 1: him about it, especially since as we got closer to
Speaker 1: our senior year we began to talk about our future together.
Speaker 1: I only mentioned Mark to my family once before realizing
Speaker 1: that it was better not to. My mother seemed wholly uninterested,
Speaker 1: her entire view of marital bliss having gone down the
Speaker 1: drain in recent years. Leani took an attitude as if
Speaker 1: I thought I was better than she was for having
Speaker 1: a boyfriend, and it just started a fight with my father,
Speaker 1: as he didn't like his little girl spending so much
Speaker 1: time with a boy. I'll rip his throat out if
Speaker 1: he lays a hand on you, he said, his violent
Speaker 1: nature seeping out again. The irony of him saying as
Speaker 1: much while he was abusing my mother was not lost
Speaker 1: on me. It was all so strange that he became
Speaker 1: so protective in that moment, since he had been so
Speaker 1: distant for years, perhaps it was meant to be more
Speaker 1: controlling than anything else. He ranted raved After that, I
Speaker 1: let him go until he tired out, and he collapsed
Speaker 1: back in his easy chair before running to my room
Speaker 1: to cry. When I got back to college, Mark consoled
Speaker 1: me over it. He sensed what a toxic environment it
Speaker 1: was there, but he wrongfully assumed it was just because
Speaker 1: of my family. But he was so kind and sweet
Speaker 1: to me and assured me that after school ended, I
Speaker 1: wouldn't have to go back to that house ever again
Speaker 1: if I didn't want to, and I didn't want to,
Speaker 1: I wanted to be with him. Unfortunately, he didn't get
Speaker 1: to keep that promise. At the beginning of our next semester,
Speaker 1: I found Mark consoling another young co ed in our
Speaker 1: bed when I came home from class early one day.
Speaker 1: He had been consoling many others in our bed over
Speaker 1: the years, because college was a time to have some fun.
Speaker 1: I had staked my entire life on this man, only
Speaker 1: for him to break my heart into a million pieces.
Speaker 1: I watched the life we had planned together, the one
Speaker 1: I had cared fully constructed, and my head over the
Speaker 1: years crumble before my eyes. I dropped out of school
Speaker 1: during my final semester. I should have stuck it out,
Speaker 1: since I had worked so hard, but it was too
Speaker 1: late to find affordable housing, and Mark was in all
Speaker 1: my classes. I couldn't handle going to a class and
Speaker 1: seeing him there every single day. The heartbreak was too
Speaker 1: much to handle. I packed my things and within a
Speaker 1: week I was back at Lighthouse. As the cab pulled
Speaker 1: up to the long driveway, a house looming in the distance,
Speaker 1: my heart dropped to my stomach. I didn't want to
Speaker 1: be there. I didn't want to get stuck in a
Speaker 1: rut like the rest of my family and be chained
Speaker 1: to a place I hated. I didn't want to lose
Speaker 1: myself in Lighthouse with no hope of ever getting out. Foolishly,
Speaker 1: I put all my eggs in one basket with college
Speaker 1: and with Mark, and when the rug was taken out
Speaker 1: from under me, I had no backup plan. Now I
Speaker 1: was forced to come up with the new life plan,
Speaker 1: will be trapped there forever. When the cab stopped in
Speaker 1: front of the house to let me out, I happened
Speaker 1: to glance to the third story window. Standing there behind
Speaker 1: the glass was the man in the hat. A ghastly
Speaker 1: smile formed on his lips as he tipped his hat
Speaker 1: in my direction, welcoming me back home. I read something
Speaker 1: more into this gesture, something far more sinister. As he
Speaker 1: disappeared backward into the shadows, I saw something more than
Speaker 1: a simple greeting. This was a message, a message that
Speaker 1: said I belonged to Lighthouse, and no matter what I
Speaker 1: did to get away, there was no escape. Lighthouse will
Speaker 1: return after these messages. And now back to Lighthouse. Being
Speaker 1: as how, it was early February and I should have
Speaker 1: been in class. My mother was unsure of who I
Speaker 1: was when I found her in the solarium. I startled
Speaker 1: her out of a mid day stupor, an empty bottle
Speaker 1: of Chardonnay by her side on one of the long couches.
Speaker 1: Her glassy eyes were unfocused in the sharp sunlight, and
Speaker 1: at first she confused me for LENI. When I helped
Speaker 1: her sit up and told her it was me, she
Speaker 1: shook her head as if to try to shake the
Speaker 1: drunk away. Her hands cold and clammy, reached out for
Speaker 1: me and cuppt my face. A smile appeared as she
Speaker 1: kissed my forehead, telling me she was happy I came home,
Speaker 1: until her expression changed. She asked me why I was home.
Speaker 1: I hadn't cried on any one's shoulder, let alone my mother's,
Speaker 1: for years, but in that moment I needed her more
Speaker 1: than ever. I let it all out, from the blissful
Speaker 1: ignorance of my relationship with Mark to the eventual downfall
Speaker 1: of our life together. She listened. For the first time
Speaker 1: in forever. I felt like my mother was truly there
Speaker 1: for me. She caressed my hair as I poured my
Speaker 1: heart out, and continued to hold me until the tears
Speaker 1: stopped flowing. When I finally lifted my head up, she
Speaker 1: looked at me and told me how sorry she was,
Speaker 1: right before she slapped me across the face. I was
Speaker 1: too shocked to feel it at first, but my hand
Speaker 1: instinctively went to my cheek. Foolish girl, she uttered as
Speaker 1: it began to stink. You should know better. She walked
Speaker 1: out of the solarium, leaving me alone to cry again,
Speaker 1: but this time for a wholly different reason. I sobbed
Speaker 1: in silence, my eyes looking toward the lighthouse outside. Later
Speaker 1: that night, I somehow mustered up enough courage to join
Speaker 1: my family for dinner. My mother was already seated, leaning
Speaker 1: by her side, holding on to that teddy bear she
Speaker 1: found in the dark room. Once Leni saw me, she
Speaker 1: bounded up and wrapped me in a big hug. I
Speaker 1: hadn't seen her since I returned, as she presumably was
Speaker 1: in the dark room, but seeing her now did bring
Speaker 1: a tiny bit of joy to my day. I fiercely
Speaker 1: hugged her back. I'm so happy you're home, she whispered
Speaker 1: in my ear. Before I could respond, she followed up with,
Speaker 1: Abigail is too. At the mere mention of the name,
Speaker 1: my body unconsciously recoiled back from her, but she didn't
Speaker 1: seem to notice. She sat back down, placing Abigail on
Speaker 1: the table next to her plate as I studied her.
Speaker 1: Dinner had apparently come in the middle of her applying makeup,
Speaker 1: as there was a dark patch on her right cheek
Speaker 1: where she apparently started to apply some rouge and then
Speaker 1: stopped to come down to eat. We picked out our
Speaker 1: food for a few minutes, an undercooked chicken that my
Speaker 1: mother didn't mind risking salmonel for when, much to my surprise,
Speaker 1: my father appeared in the doorway. He had somehow tore
Speaker 1: himself away from his busy schedule of locking himself away
Speaker 1: in his study to join us. He slumped down into
Speaker 1: his chair and looked up at me, and then to
Speaker 1: my mother. What's she doing here? He asked? To everyone
Speaker 1: but me, there is home now, my mother replied. My
Speaker 1: father finally looked back at me. School's done, he asked,
Speaker 1: it is for me? I told him, miserably, still picking
Speaker 1: at my dinner. What's that supposed to mean? He said,
Speaker 1: She and Mark broke up. My mother chimed in. Before
Speaker 1: I had a chance to say anything else, he cheated
Speaker 1: on her. A silence fell over the table, no one
Speaker 1: quite sure what to say next. I was embarrassed that
Speaker 1: my mother told my father, as I would have preferred
Speaker 1: to tell him on my own terms. But it was
Speaker 1: out in the open now, with no going back. My
Speaker 1: father broke the hush on his own good, he said,
Speaker 1: shoveling a forkful of half wrought chicken in his mouth.
Speaker 1: I never liked him anyway. Abigail never liked him either,
Speaker 1: LENI followed with quickly. My father roared at her in response,
Speaker 1: What did I tell you about Abigail? He yelled, leaping
Speaker 1: from his seat with a quickness. I wasn't aware he
Speaker 1: was still capable of I told you I don't want
Speaker 1: her anywhere near the dinner table let alone. You speaking
Speaker 1: that name in this house again? Do you hear me?
Speaker 1: Leni's eyes looked down at her plate, quick to comply,
Speaker 1: A meek sorry escaped her lips. What was that? He
Speaker 1: roared again, still staring at her. Her eyes darted in
Speaker 1: his direction for a second before looking away again. It
Speaker 1: dawned on me then that the dark spot was not
Speaker 1: an interrupted make up attempt, but instead a bruise, one
Speaker 1: that looked fairly fresh. At some point, my father had
Speaker 1: apparently added hitting my sister in his repertoire. I'm sorry,
Speaker 1: she said, louder this time, all the while my mother
Speaker 1: ignored the goings on. That's what I thought, he said,
Speaker 1: You listen to me, if you know what's good for you,
Speaker 1: you hear It was clear to me that things had
Speaker 1: degraded even further in the past few months, With both
Speaker 1: my sister and my mother living in fear of my
Speaker 1: each was eager to ignore the plights of the other
Speaker 1: as a way to escape his wrath, if only for
Speaker 1: a few seconds. But now that I was home, now
Speaker 1: that I was forced to be here again. It wasn't
Speaker 1: how I wanted to live. I refused to be under
Speaker 1: his thumb, meekly obeying him. No one was standing up
Speaker 1: to him. No one said a thing, but I wasn't
Speaker 1: going to stand for that. I don't know what came
Speaker 1: over me then, but a single word escaped my lips. No.
Speaker 1: The room fell silent again. Leani gave me only the
Speaker 1: briefest of glances, clutching Abigail tight while my mother turned
Speaker 1: her head. My father, still standing, slowly walked over to me,
Speaker 1: rubbing the scar on his palm a feat of champions
Speaker 1: in his apparently inebriated state. He placed a hand on
Speaker 1: the back of my chair and leaned in close, his
Speaker 1: sour breath causing me a bit of nausea. What was that, smartmouth?
Speaker 1: I turned my head and looked him square in the eyes,
Speaker 1: stealing all of my nerves to stand up to him,
Speaker 1: I said no. I felt the impact of his hand
Speaker 1: before I saw it. A backhanded slap sent me sprawling
Speaker 1: off the chair and onto the dining room floor. My
Speaker 1: father's eyes burned with hatred as they stared down at me.
Speaker 1: How dare you, he bellowed, you ungrateful little bitch. I
Speaker 1: said nothing. I just laid there on the floor, my
Speaker 1: hand cradling my face from his hit. In a single day,
Speaker 1: both my parents had struck me, and the emotional repercussions
Speaker 1: of that were worse than the physical ones. You think,
Speaker 1: just because you run off and leave your family to
Speaker 1: get an education, that you can disrespect a man in
Speaker 1: his own goddamn house, you think you're so goddamn special.
Speaker 1: He was working himself up into a frenzy, now, spittle
Speaker 1: flying from his lips as he raised his voice higher
Speaker 1: and higher. His avalanche of emotion scared me as it
Speaker 1: was apparent that he kept all the sin for years.
Speaker 1: It up to all come out at once. I don't
Speaker 1: care what fancy books you learn from out there, but
Speaker 1: this year is my house, my house, and you will
Speaker 1: obey my rules. To accentuate his point, he took my
Speaker 1: chair and tossed it backwards, shattering the wood backing. My
Speaker 1: sister flinched as it cracked, while my mother finally looked
Speaker 1: in my direction, my eyes silently pleading for help, anyone's help,
Speaker 1: But neither of them moved muscle. As my father continued,
Speaker 1: if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have been in
Speaker 1: this mess. You know. You forget all I did for you,
Speaker 1: all the money I spent on you, trying to make
Speaker 1: you well. But if you're going to be back here,
Speaker 1: you're going to have to learn some respect. And I'll
Speaker 1: be goddamned if you don't respect me in my own
Speaker 1: goddamned house. And if you don't, I will teach you
Speaker 1: some respect. You understand me, do you? Every part of
Speaker 1: my brain screamed at me to agree to say whatever
Speaker 1: needed to be. He said, to stop this before it
Speaker 1: got any worse, but something inside me refused to do so.
Speaker 1: I couldn't stop the words from spilling from my lips,
Speaker 1: and I regretted them almost as soon as they came out.
Speaker 1: Fuck you. The air in the room changed. It became
Speaker 1: stale and lifeless, like we were running out of the
Speaker 1: fine eye amount of oxygen. We were locked in therewith lean.
Speaker 1: He gasped, and my mother looked, shocked that such words
Speaker 1: would ever be uttered in her presence, and my father
Speaker 1: fire raged behind his eyes as his brain began to
Speaker 1: comprehend the disobedience I had displayed behind him in the
Speaker 1: darkening hallway, over his left shoulder stood the man in
Speaker 1: the hat. He looked on, a smile crossing his face
Speaker 1: as he nodded his head, clearly enjoying how the scene
Speaker 1: was unfolding before him. You little bitch, my father said,
Speaker 1: d my attention back to him as he undid his
Speaker 1: belt and wounded around his hand. I'll teach you some respect.
Speaker 1: He whipped me with the belt, the buckle, slashing a
Speaker 1: thin cut across my arm. I cried in surprise, beads
Speaker 1: of blood falling onto the floor. I crawled backward, trying
Speaker 1: to get away, but the buckle found its target again
Speaker 1: and again my arm, again, my leg, and even once
Speaker 1: across my cheek. My father kept coming toward me, dark
Speaker 1: circles growing under his eyes, and his body stinking of
Speaker 1: sweat every strike. I begged him to stop, and yet
Speaker 1: he didn't. I finally backed up against the wall as
Speaker 1: he stood towering over me. I put my hands up
Speaker 1: to my face to block the next blow as he
Speaker 1: prepared one, but it never came. I chanced to look
Speaker 1: and saw that my mother had grabbed the belt and midswing,
Speaker 1: preventing it from hitting me again. Get away from her, Henry,
Speaker 1: she said, with a slight tremble in her voice. He
Speaker 1: turned to her, his fury growing, but my mother didn't care.
Speaker 1: Despite her flaws, she had had enough of his abuse.
Speaker 1: She looked at me and shouted run. I didn't hesitate.
Speaker 1: I got up, ran towards Leanie and pulled her with
Speaker 1: me out of the room. We ran out of the
Speaker 1: dining room and into the main hall. Behind us, we
Speaker 1: heard our father strike our mother, the impact reverberating through
Speaker 1: the house, but we didn't stop. Self preservation was the
Speaker 1: only thing on our mind. I directed us towards the stairs.
Speaker 1: My hope was that we could barricade ourselves in a
Speaker 1: room up there while we called for help. We had
Speaker 1: only taken the bottom step when he appeared around the corner,
Speaker 1: a murderous gleam in his eye. Get back here, you
Speaker 1: little bitches. We bound up the stairs as fast as
Speaker 1: we could. He gave chase, taking the steps two at
Speaker 1: a time to close the gap between us. My mother
Speaker 1: appeared behind him as well, still trying to stop the madness.
Speaker 1: Once we were up the stairs, we made down the
Speaker 1: hall for one of the spare bedrooms. We passed a
Speaker 1: window and I could see the lighthouse in though it
Speaker 1: was dark. Earlier. That was no longer the case. The
Speaker 1: glow was back. I was distracted. It stopped me cold
Speaker 1: in my tracks. I stared at it, the glowing pulsing
Speaker 1: brighter than I had ever seen, as if energized by
Speaker 1: the goings on in the house. This frightened me more
Speaker 1: than anything else, because it meant that it was going
Speaker 1: to get worse. This momentary distraction was all the time
Speaker 1: my father needed to gain on us. Thankfully, he tripped
Speaker 1: on the top step, giving us a few seconds to
Speaker 1: escape and my mother time to catch up with him.
Speaker 1: She threw herself at him, jumping onto his back, clawing
Speaker 1: at his face. Hell hath no fury like a woman
Speaker 1: protecting her young, and I was never more glad to
Speaker 1: see her do so. I don't know why, but Lennie
Speaker 1: and I stopped running for safety and instead watched their struggle.
Speaker 1: Mother had the upper hand first, managing to get the
Speaker 1: belt away from him, but my father was stronger. He
Speaker 1: stood up, my mother still attached to his back until
Speaker 1: he slammed himself backwards into a wall. My mother let
Speaker 1: go of my father, slumping to the floor. He turned
Speaker 1: on her wildly, aiming to strike, but she avoid I
Speaker 1: did a punch and went for his legs. Somehow he
Speaker 1: managed to keep his balance and grabbed her by the hair,
Speaker 1: pulling her off of him. Just beyond them again was
Speaker 1: the man in the hat, watching intently, sinister smile never
Speaker 1: leaving his face. My parents paid him no mind as
Speaker 1: they continued to fight, my father striking her again and again,
Speaker 1: weakening her defenses. They were dangerously close to the railings
Speaker 1: separating part of the hallway of the second floor from
Speaker 1: the drop down to the first. For each scratch, my
Speaker 1: mother lashed out with my father returned two blows. I
Speaker 1: could see mother slowing down as LEMI began to cry.
Speaker 1: He pulled my mother up and hit her in the
Speaker 1: face again and again. As the man in the hat
Speaker 1: got closer, his grin was ear to ear, now filled
Speaker 1: with bloodlust. My mother's back was to the railing, now
Speaker 1: the wood the only thing preventing her from going over.
Speaker 1: But I saw what my father intended to do. With
Speaker 1: one strong thrust, my father pushed my mother through the
Speaker 1: railing beneath her. She stumbled backward over it and bounding
Speaker 1: the floor below. Lighthouse Will returned after a word from
Speaker 1: our sponsors, and now Lighthouse continues. Lenie screamed and wrestled
Speaker 1: out of my grip. She ran down the stairs into
Speaker 1: my mother's side. My father just stood there looking down
Speaker 1: at them, breathing heavily. When he didn't make a move,
Speaker 1: I thought it was safe enough to follow and ran
Speaker 1: down to my mother as well. She stared upward, unmoving
Speaker 1: but thankfully still breathing. Lenie pulled her head into her
Speaker 1: lap and rest her hair, crying into it, repeating, please
Speaker 1: don't die, mother, Please don't die. I love you. I
Speaker 1: ran for the kitchen. I dialed the police and tried
Speaker 1: to gather my thoughts to explain what had happened. The
Speaker 1: line rang and rang and rang, a seemingly endless call,
Speaker 1: until finally the operator picked up on the other end.
Speaker 1: Just as I opened my mouth to ask for help,
Speaker 1: Leni let out a blood curdling scream from the hall.
Speaker 1: I dropped the phone, leaving the person on the other
Speaker 1: end hanging. As I made my way back to her,
Speaker 1: I stopped short when I saw her still holding my
Speaker 1: unmoving mother, staring down the end of the hall. My
Speaker 1: father must have come down the stairs when I went
Speaker 1: for the phone, because now he was coming out of
Speaker 1: his study He held the shotgun, the one from the
Speaker 1: trophy wall in his hands. He wasn't done with us yet.
Speaker 1: He intended to finish the job. Get up, he said
Speaker 1: to Leni, and pointed the shotgun straight at her. She
Speaker 1: didn't move at first, still cradling our mother's head. My
Speaker 1: father pointed the gun at the ceiling above him pulled
Speaker 1: the trigger. The blast made us all jump as it
Speaker 1: echoed within the hallways of the house. He aimed it
Speaker 1: back at leani I said, get up. This time she did, gently,
Speaker 1: lowering my mother's head to the ground. Leanie, tears streaming
Speaker 1: down her face, pleaded for her life. As my father
Speaker 1: moved closer, leani I said, trying to be calm, come
Speaker 1: to me. You're not going anywhere, my father replied, moving
Speaker 1: the end of the shotgun between us both. Leani I
Speaker 1: said again. She started to move toward me, but my
Speaker 1: father had other ideas. He aimed for her and pulled
Speaker 1: the trigger again. The blast struck her legs, knocking her
Speaker 1: to the ground, her cries of agony bringing me to tears.
Speaker 1: I'll teach you to disobey me, you little bitch, my
Speaker 1: father said, as he looked at me. He started to
Speaker 1: reload his shotgun, pulling a shell from his pocket. I'm
Speaker 1: coming for you. Next, you have to the count of five. One.
Speaker 1: I didn't move. I didn't want to leave both my
Speaker 1: mother and Leni there to incur his wor but I
Speaker 1: also hoped to keep his attention on me to get
Speaker 1: away from them. Two. I didn't have much time to think,
Speaker 1: but I wasn't sure what my decision would be. Three
Speaker 1: run Leani yelled at me, and that did it for me.
Speaker 1: I took off down the hall again, back toward the kitchen.
Speaker 1: Four I grabbed the dangling phone and yelled for them
Speaker 1: to send help. Five I took off again, this time
Speaker 1: toward the pantry. I hope that somehow I could lure
Speaker 1: my father down into the basement and lose him among
Speaker 1: the stacks and rows to double back up the stairs
Speaker 1: and lock him inside. It wasn't the best of plans,
Speaker 1: but it was the only one I had. I threw
Speaker 1: open the basement door and nearly tumbled down the stairs.
Speaker 1: My legs, still sore from the beating he gave me earlier,
Speaker 1: slowed my progress. I had to be quiet down here,
Speaker 1: not give away where I was hiding. And then, maybe,
Speaker 1: just maybe, my plan would work. My eyes darted around
Speaker 1: in the darkness for somewhere to hide. There weren't many
Speaker 1: things to hide behind down here. There was only one
Speaker 1: suitable hiding place that came to mind, darkroom. I made
Speaker 1: my way toward it as I heard my father's footfalls
Speaker 1: overhead coming for me. I was glad to find the
Speaker 1: dark room's door open. Once inside, I huddled down and
Speaker 1: held my breath, listening. He was coming down the stairs.
Speaker 1: A creak of every step was like the sound of
Speaker 1: my own death approaching. When he reached the bottom, he
Speaker 1: cried out again, come out here, tera don't make this
Speaker 1: worse for yourself. I covered my mouth, trying to quiet
Speaker 1: myself more, and waited. There was only silence. Was this
Speaker 1: a trick? I waited some more, straining my ears to
Speaker 1: listen for him, but there was still nothing. Where was he?
Speaker 1: As I hid there in the dark of the basement.
Speaker 1: I decided to brave a look and peered around the
Speaker 1: door frame of the dark room. I nearly screamed when
Speaker 1: I spotted my father at the end of the row,
Speaker 1: shot guns still in hand, his shoulders heaving, he merely
Speaker 1: stood there, a hulking form in the dark It looked
Speaker 1: as if he was collecting his thoughts, determining his next
Speaker 1: move My breath caught in my throat as I saw
Speaker 1: a movement on his right side, swirling mass of darkness,
Speaker 1: almost imperceptible to the human eye if not for the
Speaker 1: slight contrast between the gloom of the basement and the
Speaker 1: darkness of its form. It was the shadowy thing leaning
Speaker 1: over my father, whispering in his ear. Again, it wrapped
Speaker 1: itself around him, tendrils of its darkness seeping into my
Speaker 1: father's skin. As it became part of him. Even from
Speaker 1: where I was standing, I could see the light go
Speaker 1: out in his eyes, the fire replaced by a funeral
Speaker 1: pyre of blackness. I was frozen with fear, not believing
Speaker 1: what I saw. I clenched my eyes shut, hoping that
Speaker 1: my old trick would help wish it away. One two, three,
Speaker 1: four five. I took a breath and opened my eyes,
Speaker 1: and my father was still there, the shadowy thing still
Speaker 1: forcing its way inside him. Just like the way it
Speaker 1: bulged and stretched out the walls, it did the same
Speaker 1: with sections of his flesh. It was revolting. Just before
Speaker 1: the last of it absorbed into him. He looked up
Speaker 1: and what was left of his eyes met mine. I
Speaker 1: dropped back, hopeful that it was a mere coincidence, but
Speaker 1: in my heart I knew better. I heard the gravel
Speaker 1: crunch under his boots as he made his way toward me.
Speaker 1: I panicked. In the heat of my fight or flight,
Speaker 1: I wasn't thinking clearly and had backed myself into a
Speaker 1: literal corner by hiding in the dark room. There was
Speaker 1: nowhere to hide in there, nowhere to run. But this
Speaker 1: is where I would make my final stand. If this
Speaker 1: was the moment I would die, I was going to
Speaker 1: go down fighting. I had only seconds before he arrived,
Speaker 1: so I frantically began to look for something, a weapon
Speaker 1: of some sort to defend myself. My hands searching the shelf,
Speaker 1: knocking photo albums and chemicals from places they had sat
Speaker 1: for for years, but alas there was nothing. In my desperation,
Speaker 1: I had a moment of clarity. It had been years
Speaker 1: since the incident, but I thought back to the first
Speaker 1: time I found Leani down here, laughing with Abigail. She
Speaker 1: held a hunting knife out to me then before I
Speaker 1: took it and hid it away beneath the work bench.
Speaker 1: It was a long shot but it was my only chance.
Speaker 1: I fell to my knees, my hand searching for the
Speaker 1: hidden shelf beneath the bench, fingers grasping for purchase. But
Speaker 1: there was nothing, no shelf, no knife, and sadly, no hope.
Speaker 1: I pulled my hand back, only to brush up against
Speaker 1: something solid, the knife. Somehow I missed it earlier, but
Speaker 1: it was still there. I grabbed it and jumped to
Speaker 1: my feet, pressing myself against the wall adjacent to the doorway.
Speaker 1: My father's shape filled the small doorway, as he was
Speaker 1: too tall to walk in directly. His body blocked what
Speaker 1: little light was allowed in the room, and I was
Speaker 1: plunged into darkness. I could see the glint of the
Speaker 1: shotgun's barrel poke through first, its tip almost sniffing the air,
Speaker 1: searching for me. I raised the hunting knife above my head,
Speaker 1: but hesitated, taking in the weight of what I was
Speaker 1: about to do. This was my father, the man who
Speaker 1: raised me, who cared for me, who comforted me when
Speaker 1: it was needed. Our relationship had not been good for years,
Speaker 1: but in that moment I remembered all the good times
Speaker 1: that had come before, followed shortly by all the bad.
Speaker 1: He was also the man who beat my mother near daily,
Speaker 1: who wasted his life away drinking in his study, and
Speaker 1: now was coming to kill me. Using all the strength
Speaker 1: I could muster, I plunged the knife downward, directly into
Speaker 1: his left shoulder. It met very little resistance as it
Speaker 1: slid into him like I was carving at Thanksgiving turkey.
Speaker 1: He screamed a mixture of pain and fury as he
Speaker 1: dropped the shotgun to the ground. I tried to be
Speaker 1: quick to grab it before he did, but he somehow
Speaker 1: managed to turn his body and land a punch into
Speaker 1: my sternum. With the wind knocked out of me, I
Speaker 1: slumped back against the wall, trying to regain my footing.
Speaker 1: I washed as my father fully entered the room. As
Speaker 1: he reached for the knife still lodged in his back.
Speaker 1: He managed to grab it, and I heard his skin
Speaker 1: rip as he tore it out. He threw it to
Speaker 1: the ground, blackness swirling around him. I grabbed for the knife,
Speaker 1: but he kicked it away, out of the dark room
Speaker 1: and far out of my reach. I struggled to catch
Speaker 1: my breath, but he was already on me. His hands
Speaker 1: found their way around my throat and squeezed, pulling me
Speaker 1: away from the wall and down onto the ground, into
Speaker 1: the dirt. He straddled me, his hands never losing their
Speaker 1: grip as he began to use his leverage to pull
Speaker 1: my head off the ground before slamming it back down again.
Speaker 1: The first time he did this, my vision went bright.
Speaker 1: The pain at the back of my head competed for
Speaker 1: attention with my gasping lungs, neither of them really winning
Speaker 1: the battle. I struggled against him, my hands reaching for
Speaker 1: his trying to pry them oft so a vail. As
Speaker 1: I felt my consciousness slip away, he slammed my head
Speaker 1: against the floor, and my consciousness came back to reality.
Speaker 1: Blood from his shoulder dripped down, splashing onto me and
Speaker 1: into my mouth, making it even harder to breathe. The
Speaker 1: only thing I could focus on was the raving madness
Speaker 1: that consumed my father, My eyes pleading with him, trying
Speaker 1: to reach a part of him that still loved me,
Speaker 1: but I was failing. There was nothing but hatred there.
Speaker 1: As his fingers clasped tighter, I thrashed my legs, trying
Speaker 1: to find enough purchase to tip him off balance, anything
Speaker 1: to help relieve the tension on my throat. I tried
Speaker 1: to jam my fingers into his eyes, but I was
Speaker 1: losing ground and my strength was leaving me. By the second.
Speaker 1: I began to see things, white spots appearing at the
Speaker 1: corner of my vision as my body struggled for a
Speaker 1: breath of fresh air. I felt my limbs betray me
Speaker 1: as I willed them to keep moving, but they slowed
Speaker 1: to a crawl. I felt myself drifting away as my
Speaker 1: brain told me to stop fire and let it all go.
Speaker 1: Just a few more seconds and I could finally be
Speaker 1: at peace. The darkness began to encrouch in on me,
Speaker 1: and I saw the man in the hat one final time,
Speaker 1: standing behind my father, a hand on his bleeding shoulder
Speaker 1: as he smiled at me, and I hated that his
Speaker 1: face would be the last thing I saw. I closed
Speaker 1: my eyes, and as my last breath escaped my body,
Speaker 1: I finally found solace in the fact that if my
Speaker 1: only escape from a lighthouse would be death, and so
Speaker 1: be it. I let go. Embracing the open arms of
Speaker 1: my demise, I felt relief. I was free, Fresh air
Speaker 1: filled my lungth I was confused. I was so sure
Speaker 1: I was dead, So okay with that fact that I
Speaker 1: was almost angry that I could breathe again. I opened
Speaker 1: my eyes to see my father still above me, but
Speaker 1: he looked different. The darkness could no longer be found
Speaker 1: behind his eyes. Instead, they looked like two wide saucers
Speaker 1: staring at me in shock. His mouth parted as drops
Speaker 1: of blood fell from it and onto my face. He
Speaker 1: hung that way for a second before he collapsed, the
Speaker 1: full force of his weight landing on me the air.
Speaker 1: My body was so desperate for moments ago escaped again.
Speaker 1: There was something sticking out of the back of my
Speaker 1: father's head. I had to focus on it to make
Speaker 1: sure I was not imagining it. It was the hunting
Speaker 1: knife buried in the base of his skull up to
Speaker 1: the hilt. My father was dead. I looked above him,
Speaker 1: expecting to see the man in the hat standing there,
Speaker 1: but he wasn't. It was Leany. Her eyes were equally
Speaker 1: as wide as my fathers were. She was in shock
Speaker 1: and on the verge of a full blown pain attack.
Speaker 1: I tried to call out to her as the realization
Speaker 1: of what occurred came to me. Leni had somehow made
Speaker 1: her way down to the basement to save me, at
Speaker 1: the cost of taking the life of the man she
Speaker 1: called her father. That decision was something that would stay
Speaker 1: with her for the rest of her life. With what
Speaker 1: little strength that was returning, I managed to push his
Speaker 1: body off of me. It rolled to the side with
Speaker 1: a sick thump that almost made me pass out again.
Speaker 1: Leani covered her mouth in horror. I I killed him.
Speaker 1: I took my little sister into my arms, and we
Speaker 1: both began to cry. The events of the day had
Speaker 1: taken a toll on us both, but there was a
Speaker 1: sense of catharsis as we let it out. I shielded
Speaker 1: her from the view of his body, but I couldn't
Speaker 1: take my eyes off of this lifeless husk that had
Speaker 1: once been my father. I just didn't know when it
Speaker 1: stopped being him. I could blame his misfortunes and that
Speaker 1: alcohol for creating the thing that he had become, but
Speaker 1: deep inside I knew that wasn't really him. He had
Speaker 1: tried to protect us from lighthouse, from the darkness living
Speaker 1: inside it, but we had foolishly come here anyway, and
Speaker 1: when we did, once that darkness got him into its clutches,
Speaker 1: it consumed him from the inside. I don't know if
Speaker 1: that rage that overtook his mind was always there, bubbling
Speaker 1: beneath the surface. But I do know that the house
Speaker 1: did nothing but make it worse. The person that Leany
Speaker 1: killed that night was not our father. It was something
Speaker 1: that was twisted and distorted by an evil that gripped
Speaker 1: his soul and turned him into something he was not.
Speaker 1: Henry Michael Hollis was long gone, and now here we were,
Speaker 1: two young women huddled together in the dark, crying for
Speaker 1: what once was. We cried as someone finally arrived to help.
Speaker 1: We cried as the police pulled us apart to question
Speaker 1: us about what happened. We cried when we saw our
Speaker 1: mother broken by her fall down the stairs, but still
Speaker 1: holding on. We cried as they took our father's body away,
Speaker 1: covered by a sheet, as if that would do anything
Speaker 1: to protect us from seeing him. We cried for the
Speaker 1: nightmares that were yet to come. We cried for our
Speaker 1: ruined childhood. We cried for the impossible choice LEMI had
Speaker 1: to make. We cried because we realized that lighthouses hunger
Speaker 1: for blood was sated for now. Lighthouse is a production
Speaker 1: of iHeartRadio and Bamfur Productions. Chapter four featured the voice
Speaker 1: of Ali Trasher, written and directed by Jeff Heinbuch audio engineering,
Speaker 1: an original musical score by Celeste Production assistance by Alex Gona.
Speaker 1: Executive produced by Holly Fry. Questions comments, you can reach
Speaker 1: us at the Man in the Hat Is Watching at
Speaker 1: gmail dot com. Thank you for listening.