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The very first time Tobias Hankel moved something with his mind, he was eight years old, and his mother had not long left him and his father to rot on their once happy, quaint farm.
She would’ve been twenty-seven years old, and the oh so lucky man she’d run off with was in his late forties. This, as Tobias remembers, was a very big deal in the eyes of his father.
“Jezebel! That damned fucking Jezebel! She committed one of the greatest sins, boy! Do you hear? For an old, useless ram!”
He still remembered her, even now. Despite everything he’s been through since, he remembered her. Her strawberry blonde long hair, wrapped up in a modest head scarf, dressed in her church clothes, ready for Sunday prayer. This distinct memory is what haunted him most. It wasn’t the pain that came after—the bullying, the abuse, the drugs. That could all be forgotten, and it mostly was. But that memory of her holding Tobias’ hand, waiting outside that cemetery for service to begin, will never be forgotten.
And he hated her; he truly did. For God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous. Hebrews 13:4. He tells himself that she made her choice; she chose to commit great sin and abandon her only son, but that thought only makes him feel worse. Because deep down, in the middle of the night when he’s laying down in bed, he knows his father is correct in his drunken, violent state.
He is a monster.
He is the demon's seed.
He is what made his mother leave.
It wasn’t her possessed by the devil; it was you, boy! She left because she saw the evil in you!
But that was stupid, and he couldn’t blame the things his father said. Honour thy father (and thy other). He was a holy man. A holy man who had his faith tested. A holy man but still broken. It was his succubus mothers' fault why his father had moments when he was so full of rage, not his!
And really, he knew Charles couldn’t help, as a father, to punish his son. It was tough, love! It wasn’t as concerning as it seemed; every father in the state of Georgia at the time beat their son! Yeah, but he’s the only one to brand a cross into your head.)
And maybe, maybe this tough love did get twisted. Maybe at some points it got a little out of hand. His rage was misdirected, but his faith was stronger than ever. But at the end of it, it was justified because just a few days after the boy had turned eight, Charles saw the devil in him.
It happened when he was dragging the screaming boy all the way up the stairs to their grimy, disgusting shared bathroom. Seriously, the man had stopped cleaning after she’d left. He threw the child over the tub-turned-makeshift baptismal like he’d done many times before.
It should’ve taken one push—one tiny push—to submerge the boy under the cold water completely. One push so the boy could be completely reborn.
But he suddenly stopped.
Tobias waited with his eyes tightly screwed shut, expecting at any moment for the icy cold water to hit his face like knives.
But it never happened.
Hesitatingly he opened his eyes, expecting to see at least an angry scowl from his father, if not that raised fist. Instead, he was met by something that he deemed a lot worse.
His father looked mortified. True and genuine fear crossed his father's face before he dropped the young boy harshly on the floor. And then, as suddenly as it appeared, it was replaced by a twisted look of disgust and distaste. As if he were viewing something their dog left in the backyard.
Tobias followed his father's gaze above the bathtub behind him.
It was hard to explain; even as an adult, it was something he could really remember. (I mean, what could he really be?) It happened all very quickly—a massive blur that was hard to process for a child.
Shampoo bottles, toothbrushes, and bath toys all dropped on the floor with a massive “THUD!” and left the father and son in complete and utter silence.
Except for the sound of Mr. Hankel’s heavy breathing.
For a brief moment, Tobias felt like he had done that. That by some kind of divine intervention the Lord had granted him a miracle. Pride and happiness swelled in his chest as he began to crack a smile.
He wanted to exclaim to his father that he was wrong! That he wasn’t the devil! The Lord had graced them; the Lord saw them!
But when he saw his father's mean face, complete shame and guilt hit him like bags of bricks. How dare he have the nerve to think that?
“Get out of my sight, boy,” he sneered, pulling Tobias to his feet by the hem of his shirt. “Go! Go to that goddam room and pray! I don’t want to hear a peep or anything, or I'll swear next time you won’t be so lucky."
So he quickly ran out of the bathroom, only looking back when he was up the stairs, peeking through the rails. From the crack in the bathroom, he saw his father standing there, a hand through his black hair, pacing around. The fear once again sketched on his face.
And then Tobias knew. He knew what he was. Unatrual. It wasn’t a gift.
He was marked by the devil.