“What the hell?! What is this?” Jackson strains his neck, trying to move his head. Mrs. Green holds him in place, parting his lips and prodding with her wrinkled fingers. She shushes him. “It’s quiet time now.”

Herman hovers over Jackson, who continues to wriggle, trying to wrench himself loose. “Hang in there, Jackson,” I say, but this only elicits a long, sideways glance from Mrs. Green. It’s at once predatory and pitying, a look I’ve never seen before from someone so old.

She smiles at Herman. As if on cue, Herman steps next to me. His eyes never leave Mrs. Green. I see his face clearly for the first time. There are ragged scars on his chin, pockmarked burns on his neck.

At the small table, Mrs. Green peruses the archaic instruments. Surgical blades. A chisel. A hacksaw. All the tools are stained with rust and God knows what else. Mrs. Green commands the room. There’s a bounce in her step. A fierce methodology to her actions. Her eyes gleam as she selects a pair of forceps and a set of surgical scissors.

“Should have known,” she says. “A boy like you. Greedy. Just like my Herman. You need to learn. He learned. What he did to Claire…I’ll never forget. And you…” Mrs. Green turns to me, a look of distrust on her face. “I wanted to stop them, but…I had no idea. That they could show you this. That you could hear.”

I get an up close view of Mrs. Green’s gnarled scar under the fluorescent bulb. “Good thing Mother taught me well,” Mrs. Green says. “She’d use the belt. The gardening sheers. Burned my privates.”

Jackson thrashes, trying to break free.

“It was the only way. I understand now. How the crying can drive a woman mad.” Mrs. Green grips Jackson’s jaw with her fingers, moving the forceps towards his mouth. He clenches his teeth shut.

She pushes on Jackson’s lips. When his jaw won’t budge, she pinches his nose. Jackson holds his breath. His face turns red and then blue as he jerks and twitches.

When he finally gasps for air, Mrs. Green jams the forceps between his teeth. “If those girls had only listened. Though maybe it was too much to ask. The way he ruined Claire. The way she screamed.”

Mrs. Green grips the tip of Jackson’s tongue with the forceps. He cries out. “Nah. Gnahhh!”

She lifts the scissors to his tongue. “You’d have to tell someone,” Mrs. Green says, a deep ache in her voice. I try to put together the pieces, but everything’s happening so fast. Mrs. Green knew all along. She was the one that caused this pain.

“Why are you doing this?” I say. “Why?”

“Do you think I want this?” Mrs. Green asks. “Do you think I wanted to hurt them? I did what I had to do.”