THREE TIMES A LADY by Jon Osborne Page B

Mother,’ he’d said.
    And once again – strange as it might have sounded to any of the so-called normal people out there in the world – the really sick thing about the whole thing was that he’d actually meant it.

CHAPTER 7
    The heartbreaking story of Sara Whitestone’s brutal rape over an altar at St Anthony’s Catholic Church in the late-1950s – as told to Nathan Stiedowe while he held a sharp knife pressed against Sara’s throat – crushed Dana’s spirit.  For his part, however, Nathan Stiedowe didn’t seem quite so moved.  Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact. 
    Crushing Sara’s slender shoulders beneath his knees with all his weight, he stared down hard into her eyes.  ‘That’s a real touching story, Mom.  Really it is.  Still, I’m afraid it’s not quite good enough.  Time to pay the piper, cunt.  But first I think I’ll give you an idea of what it was like for me growing up.  How does that sound to you?’
    Roughly flipping Sara onto her stomach, he yanked down her satin panties around her knees and slapped her hard on her bare buttocks, a stinging blow that turned her backside red.  ‘“For this you know – no fornicator, unclean person nor covetous man who is an idolater has any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and God!”  Ephesians, chapter 5, verse 5.’
    He slapped her again, even harder this time.
    ‘“Let the people turn from their wicked deeds!  Let them banish from their minds the very thought of doing wrong!  Let them turn to the Lord that He may have mercy on them!  Yes, turn to our God, for He will abundantly pardon!”  Book of Isaiah, chapter 55, verse 7.’
    The monster flipped Sara back over and pinned her shoulders beneath his weight again.  Running the sharp knife lightly over her throat left a superficial but very painful cut in its wake.  Even in the darkness, Dana could easily make out the stark contrast between the bright red blood and the pale white skin at her mother’s throat. 
    Just then, Sara Whitestone’s panicked blue eyes widened in horror at the sight of something over Nathan Stiedowe’s left shoulder.  The monster turned and followed her gaze to the doorway of the bedroom.  Dana did the same.  Two feet away and wearing his footy-pyjamas, Bradley held a teddy bear in one tiny hand and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as though he needed to go to the bathroom.
    ‘Mommy, what’s happening?’ the little boy asked, his small voice quiet and shy.  ‘You’re scaring me.  Who’s that man on top of you?  Where’s my daddy?’
    Nathan Stiedowe locked gazes with the little boy, freezing Bradley like an ice sculpture in his paralysing stare.  He never took his eyes off the boy as he whipped the sharp blade across Sara Whitestone’s neck again, this time cutting all the way to the bone.
    Jolted out of his stupor, the little boy screamed so loudly that it nearly drowned out the watery gurgling sounds that Sara Whitestone was making as she choked to death on her own blood.  Springing off the bed in a black flash of movement, the monster leapt toward the doorway, passing directly through Dana’s body again.  The little boy’s enormous blue eyes widened in terror as Nathan Stiedowe yanked the sharp knife high overhead.  Bright red droplets of Sara Whitestone’s freshly drawn blood slid down the glinting blade and plopped onto Bradley’s tiny upturned face.
    That’s when the front door slammed open with a violent bang.
    ‘Sara?  James?  What the hell’s going on in here?  It’s Ralph Wilson from next door.  Nancy and I heard screaming and called the police.  Is everything all right?’
    Nathan Stiedowe froze in his tracks.  Then he reacted in another blinding flash of movement.  Undisguised hatred flashing across his handsome face, he bolted past the now-catatonic little boy and dashed into Dana’s bedroom before pulling himself up through the window and dashing across the yard, disappearing into the