May 12, 2020 • 41 mins
A single night changes everything.
Light House is a production of iHeartRadio and Bamfer Productions.
Chapter 4 features the voice of Aly Trasher
It was written and directed by Jeff Heimbuch, audio engineered and scored by Kori Celeste, assistant engineered by Alex Gona, and executive produced by Holly Frey
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Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:01):
Warning, this episode contains descriptions of domestic violence. Listener discretion
is advised. Lighthouse is a production of iHeartRadio and Bamfur productions.
When you're eighteen and full of ambition, you don't always
think things through. Of course, I was happy to be
out of Lighthouse, away from my crumbling family life and
(00:23):
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
(00:44):
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
(01:04):
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
(01:25):
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
(01:45):
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.
(02:07):
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.
(02:27):
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
(02:49):
a sacrifice, one that my family would pay for. In
Blood Lighthouse, Chapter four, nineteen seventy three. Over my years away,
(03:34):
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
(03:55):
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
(04:17):
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
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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
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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
(05:21):
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
(05:44):
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
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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
(06:29):
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
(06:50):
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
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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,
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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.
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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.
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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
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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
(08:57):
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
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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
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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
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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
(10:24):
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,
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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,
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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
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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
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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
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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,
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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
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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
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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,
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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,
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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,
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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,
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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
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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
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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
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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,
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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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
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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
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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.
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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,
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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
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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
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the floor below. Lighthouse Will returned after a word from
our sponsors, and now Lighthouse continues. Lenie screamed and wrestled
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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
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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.
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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.
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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,
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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
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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
(29:01):
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
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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.
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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
(30:08):
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
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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,
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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
(31:19):
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,
(31:40):
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,
(32:04):
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.
(32:25):
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
(32:45):
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,
(33:07):
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.
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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
(33:53):
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
(34:15):
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
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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
(35:00):
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
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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
(35:46):
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,
(36:08):
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
(36:28):
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
(36:57):
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
(37:18):
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
(37:39):
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.
(38:00):
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
(38:22):
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
(38:44):
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
(39:07):
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
(39:27):
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
(39:50):
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
(40:12):
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
(40:47):
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
(41:10):
us at the Man in the Hat Is Watching at
gmail dot com. Thank you for listening.
Warning, this episode contains descriptions of domestic violence. Listener discretion
is advised. Lighthouse is a production of iHeartRadio and Bamfur productions.
When you're eighteen and full of ambition, you don't always
think things through. Of course, I was happy to be
out of Lighthouse, away from my crumbling family life and
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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
(00:44):
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
(01:04):
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
(01:25):
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
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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.
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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.
(02:27):
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
(02:49):
a sacrifice, one that my family would pay for. In
Blood Lighthouse, Chapter four, nineteen seventy three. Over my years away,
(03:34):
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
(03:55):
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
(04:17):
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
(04:38):
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
(05:00):
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
(05:21):
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
(05:44):
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
(06:07):
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
(06:29):
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
(06:50):
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
(07:11):
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,
(07:33):
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.
(07:56):
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.
(08:16):
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
(08:37):
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
(08:57):
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
(09:17):
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
(09:39):
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
(10:01):
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
(10:24):
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,
(10:49):
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
(11:11):
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
(11:32):
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
(12:12):
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
(12:34):
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,
(12:57):
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
(13:20):
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
(13:40):
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
(14:00):
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,
(14:22):
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
(14:44):
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
(15:05):
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,
(15:28):
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,
(15:50):
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
(16:11):
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
(16:34):
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
(16:57):
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
(17:20):
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,
(17:43):
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,
(18:06):
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
(18:27):
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
(18:50):
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
(19:14):
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,
(19:36):
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
(19:59):
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
(20:21):
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
(20:42):
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.
(21:07):
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
(21:29):
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
(21:51):
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.
(22:13):
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
(22:34):
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
(22:55):
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
(23:16):
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
(23:37):
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
(23:57):
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,
(24:19):
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
(24:41):
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
(25:04):
the floor below. Lighthouse Will returned after a word from
our sponsors, and now Lighthouse continues. Lenie screamed and wrestled
(25:40):
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
(26:02):
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.
(26:23):
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.
(26:46):
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,
(27:10):
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
(27:31):
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.
(27:55):
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.
(28:15):
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.
(28:38):
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
(29:01):
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
(29:24):
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.
(29:45):
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
(30:08):
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
(30:31):
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,
(30:58):
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
(31:19):
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,
(31:40):
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,
(32:04):
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.
(32:25):
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
(32:45):
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,
(33:07):
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.
(33:31):
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
(33:53):
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
(34:15):
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
(34:38):
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
(35:00):
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
(35:23):
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
(35:46):
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,
(36:08):
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
(36:28):
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
(36:57):
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
(37:18):
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
(37:39):
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.
(38:00):
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
(38:22):
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
(38:44):
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
(39:07):
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
(39:27):
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
(39:50):
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
(40:12):
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
(40:47):
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
(41:10):
us at the Man in the Hat Is Watching at
gmail dot com. Thank you for listening.
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