Lafayette grabs Tara's face roughly, turning those black eyes up: "Tara, you're stronger than whatever this is, and you know it. Now, get the fuck up out of there!" She spits, suddenly, and he jumps back. She laughs; Lettie Mae prays fervently that Miss Jeanette were here, and Lafayette scoffs. "She don't need no damn backwoods witch. She need Thorazine and a padded cell." Tara begins to pray.
Tara watches Lettie Mae through a blurry haze as her mother prays in turn. "Bless the Lord, O my soul and all that is within me: bless his holy name." Tara moans at the old formula. "And forget not all his benefits who forgives all your iniquities." Lafayette takes up the prayer, surprising her. "...Who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from destruction. Hallelujah God." He sits down, drinking wine from the bottle with an arch look. "Jesus and I agreed to see other people, but that don't mean we don't still talk from time to time."
Lettie Mae weighs his soul and finds it acceptable. "You've been good to my Tara," she says, as Lafayette smokes, as Tara wriggles and moans. All possession is being trapped. Tara's convulsions against her ropes are Maxine's convulsions against her neighbors. It only looks like possession from the outside. "I hadn't left a hole in this girl, maybe whatever's in there wouldn't have crawled in." She applies a cloth to her daughter's head, trying to give comfort and succor; she doesn't know that this particular hole was all Tara's doing.
Lafayette points out that he kicked her out too, on her birthday no less. "I was feeling all Poor Pitiful Me because of the shit I had brought on myself. If I wasn't acting like a stupid little bitch, I would have seen trouble coming after her a mile away, and I would have handled that shit." He's more right than Lettie Mae, but no less wrong. He could have warned her, and he did, but he couldn't have handled it. It doesn't take other people to save us, we do that for and from ourselves. That's what God looks like. That's what she's doing. "He's coming," Tara laughs. "He's on his way. And He's gonna kill us all!"
The altar has already begun to stink when Bill and Sookie arrive at Maryann's. The music inside the open door is slow, the wrong rpm, like a drunken invocation. The door is open because there is no need to close the door. This is what Jessica's father was terrified of: the branches, the leaves, the vines, growing through the house, in a soft candlelight. The presumption of unchecked nature in a house abandoned. The lush and nasty smell of loam and blood and vegetation. It is terrible and it is terrifying; it is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen on this show not involving Eric's body.