She hit the remote’s button again and a bulleted list appeared on the screen. “Many destructive cults preach equality and mutual respect—again, familial traits—but this is another lie. The power nearly always remains at the very top with one person. Typically this is a patriarchal figure of influence. If you look at the Manson Family, at Aum Shinrikyo, at the Branch Davidians, all of them have a figurehead in common. The belief system is mandated by one individual’s vision. Many times this is a mixture of religions, cherry-picked to support whatever the figurehead wants.” She ticked off her fingers. “Sex, drugs, money, power. At the end of the day they are all con men. Many are mentally ill and undeniably charismatic, but con men all the same. Now you’re probably thinking, how? How can people be so taken in by these individuals? Give themselves over so completely? I must remind you these leaders are no common scammers who steal credit card numbers over the phone. They are dangerous manipulators who are able to skew the very perception of the world in their victims’ minds.”
She made her way back to the narrow podium, glancing once at the notes on her tablet before clicking through to the next display on the screen. “Free will is another tenet leaders sometimes rely on to obfuscate their intentions for a group, when in actuality their actions all boil down to the opposite: control. Cults are control. Most people count themselves as part of a larger whole. Be it religion or a corporation or even simply humankind itself, they form a connection with the greater world. For destructive cult members, their connection is intrinsically centered within the cult. There is no life beyond, no hope for them, and at a certain point of brainwashing and control, there is no line they won’t cross for their leader or belief system. Even murder can be justified to someone under the influence.” She paused, listening to the quiet of the vast room. “Tonight we’ll delve into specific case studies of both large destructive cults as well as smaller, more familial-based groups and try to lay out a foundation as to how these cults come into being and what their impact is on society as a whole.”
“Dr. Murdock?” The voice came from a young man sitting in the first row of seats. He held his hand politely at shoulder height, a timid smile on his face.
“Yes, go ahead.”
“Before you begin, could you tell us why so many destructive cults end in death and ruin both for their leaders and members?”
She swallowed. The room, solid and steady in its reality only moments before, elongated. A funhouse mirror stretching and distorting. The lights dimmed, lost their whiteness, and became sulfurous. Like fire through thick smoke. She could taste it. Taste the soot and grimy oil of things burning.
She wasn’t there, wasn’t then. She was here and now.
Here and now.
“Typically it’s a disrupter,” she said, focusing solely on the student who’d asked the question. “Some change in the hierarchy or a decision sent down from the cult’s leader. In doomsday cults it is sometimes the arrival of the prophesized date of the end of the world. In other groups it’s encroachment by outside entities, many times law enforcement.” She paused, looking out at the sea of faces. “And sometimes it comes from an upheaval within. When even one person no longer believes, it can trigger the end of the cult altogether.”
The last of the people filed through the door at the back of the hall, their voices lowered and punctuated with a burst of laughter from in the hallway. Clare watched them go, then set to cleaning up her materials.
Other than the momentary distraction at the very beginning, the lecture had gone well. Five years ago the intrusive memory would’ve derailed her completely, left her a panicked mass of nerves unable to continue speaking at all. It might’ve taken hours, if not days, to get past. But now she was past the point of needing to catalogue every memory and work through each one individually. Years of therapy and her medication allowed her to move past them almost as quickly as they arose. Besides, if she let it bother her Eric would see it on her face when she went home, and she knew what he would say—she was pushing herself. Too hard. And why?
Why? It was something she didn’t think Eric would ever truly understand. The only ones who could grasp why she continued to face the trauma, to reopen old wounds, were those who were scarred deeply themselves. They would understand letting go was infinitely harder than holding on, even if it was killing you.
“Dr. Murdock?” Clare startled at the voice, glancing up at the woman only a few paces away. “Oh, I’m sorry I scared you.”
“No, no. I was lost in my own thoughts. I didn’t see you there.”
The woman flashed a brief smile, brightening her strained features. She was nearing middle age, streaks of gray in dark hair pulled tightly back from her forehead. “Sandy Granger,” she said, holding out a hand.
Clare took it and nodded. “Did you have a question about the lecture?”
“Uh, no, I mean, yes. Sort of. See, it’s my sister, Beverly, and her daughter, Manda.” Sandy frowned, spinning a narrow band of gold on one finger. “I was hoping you could speak with them.”
“Sure, I’d be happy to take their information and set something up later.”
The other woman looked down, frown deepening. “They don’t really have any information. No phone or email.” She blinked rapidly before fixing her gaze on Clare again. “I read your articles, at least what I could find. How you grew up in that cult.”
Clare felt the pacing creature in the darkness trying to close in. Her throat tightened and she inhaled deeply, fighting back the sensation of the air thickening around them.
“—thought with your background you could talk to them. Talk some sense into them. God knows they won’t listen to me,” Sandy finished.
“Why won’t they listen to you?”
“It’s that damn religion they’re pinned under. That—that cult they’re in. There’s no other word for it.”
“What group are they a part of?”
“The Shining Rock of Faith Church. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of them, but they’re out in Annover.”
“I know where they’re based.” Clare glanced down and snapped her briefcase shut. “Your sister and niece, they’re here?”
A look of hope from Sandy. “Yes. I mean, they didn’t come inside—they’ve got some strange rules about entering a college building or something. But yes, they’re waiting in the park across the street.” All at once Sandy’s eyes glazed with tears. “They left, but Beverly’s thinking of going back. They’ll punish her and little Manda for leaving, I know they will. There’s something wrong with that church, I can feel it. Please, Doctor, please talk to them. Make her understand.”
Clare reached out and squeezed her arm. “Call me Clare. And I’ll try to help if I can.”
The sun had fallen to the horizon during the lecture and now it was only a suggestion behind the campus buildings, wisps of clouds stained red with the day’s last light.
“Beverly left home when she was fifteen,” Sandy said as they walked. “She got sucked into Shining Rock through a guy. I could tell right away he wasn’t what he said he was when we first met him. But he fooled her. Got her to move to that ranch they have and cut ties with everyone else. She had Manda a year later.”