Snippet #2616136

Jeremiah was silent for a moment, before he began to speak once more. "I don't remember much...it's...fuzzy. Father, Uncle Martin, Aunt Mary, and Mother were all drinking whiskey after dinner...Lizzy and I didn't get any, 'cause we were too young. And then...well...I-I don't know what happened. They all started...choking and screaming and hollering before...they were quiet. Then He came in..."

Jeremiah trailed off after that, the boy staring down at the bed, gathering his thoughts. "I don't...remember much after that...there were loud noises...gunshots, I guess...and the Man spoke to me and Lizzy. Told us not to be afraid, that He was there to...keep us safe. Our family was dead because of their sins, and we were going to go to a better place now. He told me he'd come back for me...that he couldn't take me and Lizzy together because there wasn't enough room, or...something. I...didn't understand..."

Horatio gave a sigh, shaking his head as he rubbed his temples. He could...just what was going on here?! The more they learned about this mystery, the less it made sense! Though...well, he supposed the boy could have been lied to...maybe he and his sister were told that so they'd calm done, and go with him with little resistance.

It...made sense, to a degree...after all, a kidnapper would tell his victims anything to get them to be quiet, and go with them without much fuss. It still left the question of why the boy was left behind...though Horatio suspected more and more that Jeremiah being left behind had to do with his blindness. It was the only thing the child had that made him different from the other kids....what that meant though, he wasn't quite sure.

Still...why did Jeremiah hate his family? And how did the kidnapper know to use that to calm him down?

"Son..." Horatio gave a little cough clearing his throat. He had a feeling he wouldn't like what he was about to hear, but it had to be asked all the same. "Why do you hate your family?"

Jeremiah was silent at that, staring down morosely at his lap. He answered though...his voice barely above a whisper. "Every night, Father would go into our room, and get in Lizzy's bed...I don't know what they did, but it made her cry. I...I tried to stop him, more than once, but Father would just hit me, and keep...making Lizzy cry..."