His Dark Ways (12 page)

The taste of her losing her salvation, as I have, is sweet—it clenches my hunger, my pain.     

Chapter 15

Sadly Departed

~Savanna~

Drugs? Did someone drug me?

I can’t see anything in front of me but my two blurred hands—I think they’re mine. I’m on my knees. They burn—I’ve obviously been kneeling on a hard surface for too long.

Little by little I attempt to move around so I can make out where I am and see what the hell is going on—cold concrete, pieces of what I think are glass, and the stench of trash. I hear a rodent scuffle by as I press my fingers together—sticky, like blood’s been exposed to air. My intuition tells me I’ve been left to die in a rat filled alleyway. I search my body with shaky hands to assess the damage. I’m not wounded badly. It’s just my face that hurts. My breaths get shorter the longer I’m crippled from sight and the ache in my face increases the more aware my brain becomes.

Drool falls down the side of my chin. I wipe it clean with the sleeve of my sweater—I’m a disaster, and like a baby I begin to sob. But I can’t hear the echo, if I was in an alley, I’d hear a sound coming back. Maybe I’m somewhere else?

This is torment, like one of those nightmares I wake up from, but don’t really rouse and I lie in my bed trying to move, trying to force a limb to shift but nothing budges. And it’s almost as if I’m alive, but not and I’m left fully aware in a body that can no longer operate. I shake tears free and focus. Where am I? I start to rock—it comforts me to know I can still move even if it’s not a lot.

Lucky was running to me, dressed in blood—I sway harder.

Daniel. We made love.

The thought stays with me and lingers long enough to hit the pit of my lungs like poison. But the type of poison I would want to take again. He’s addictive. I take in a double breath because the first didn’t make it down. Is he still here with me? I whisper out, “Daniel?”

The only response is blackness and a chill that’s unkind and causes me to tremble. Am I visiting his world, or am I only getting a glimpse? I keep an ear out for the monsters and try to force myself to make something out of the dark—I’m out of luck, nothing.

I was suffocating. I called out to him for help and he said he couldn’t. Why couldn’t he help me? My vision races back as if that last memory helped filter out the toxins in my blood—everything’s clear again.

At first I don’t make out what I’m looking at, but it’s a body—a corpse of a woman in a green uniform with a white outline. I blink twice as I attempt to make out the letters written in brown on a name tag pinned above large breasts. I want to fall back when I see the name Elsie splattered with blood, but I’m suddenly immobile and forced to stay in the position I’m in. Only my arms can move. The rest of me acts like a stiff board. Someone’s holding on to me—a bear hug almost—but the arms are invisible and I can’t shake them free.

I can barely reach Elsie’s neck to check for a pulse and the only thing my fingertips come into contact with is warm unmoving flesh. I want to cry out for help, track down the bastard who did this, and hold her until someone comes. But as I lift both my arms in front of my face, her blood trickles down my forearms as if I’m a surgeon who has dipped his hands into a freshly sliced open patient, except I don’t get to wear gloves.

Have I committed murder? The word alone “murder” doesn’t give Elsie justice in the slightest, have I really taken a life—her existence?

I didn’t know her well, but I loved her and now she’s left to be worm’s meat for the soil diggers of Earth.

Her face is hidden from an unthinkable crime. I try to wipe it clean to expose the beauty underneath. “Elsie, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so, sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong. I didn’t mean to hurt you, if I did.”

As minutes pass, the more I come to and realize this isn’t my fault. It doesn’t run in my blood to kill. I scan the scene for footprints, a weapon, or even the culprit—Daniel interrupts my thoughts.

The criminal is you, my love.

Those words channel down my throat and I try to swallow them, but I know they’re a lie. “But I didn’t,” I say attempting to make muddied thoughts clean.

Daniel’s quiet.

Lips begin to quiver. I suddenly feel unclean; like I should have known better than to enjoy poison.

A wave of truth crushes down upon me. I’m an idiot. I finally realize who Daniel is and look around as if to put up a fight, but he’s still clutching onto me—he thinks he’s already won. “Where are you?”  

We are connected now. Do you feel that, the pain? Lick your lips, can you taste the chard? A soul was just banished to hell. It’s nice to know, to feel, I’m not the only one.

Elsie’s eyes open, except she’s not the one lifting her eyelids, Daniel is.

The world I’ve been in crushes into me like an unexpected smash from colliding vehicles on a highway. It’s like I’m traveling in a slowly deteriorating shuttle that’s transporting me to hell, but there aren’t any seats, just a stranded piece of land falling apart. And I’m back in the place I don’t want to belong.

The trees beautiful flowers have fallen. As I pick one up and attempt to place it back upon the branch that once brought it life, I realize I can’t. Daniel is tearing apart my soul and I can’t put it back together again. The splendor is fading the closer I get to hell. I crumble to my knees and scream out to God, but even in this place I’m being mocked. I can’t say His name. Heaven and hell do exist.

I’m not even in hell yet and as each second passes the only thing I’m becoming more aware of is anguish. My soul’s being devoured.

I lay palms across the ground that’s now only covered with dry death. I clench onto the dirt that sits just below a yellow patch of tall grass. Tiny rocks break the skin under my nails and I barely notice the blood that starts to seep out. “Think, Savanna, think,” I scream.

Faith. Dad was always talking about the importance of having faith—the faith of a child—innocence even when you know evil exists. As I barely move from my current fetal position under the tree, I watch as loose soil frees from my hands, and I yell out to the orange sky caving in all around me. “But how can I have faith if I already know heaven and hell exist?”

Chapter 16

Rest

~Daniel~

Desert air has a way of drying things fast. My clothes are covered in blood, dry crusted blood, the kind that doesn’t appease me. As I stand outside the Do-gooders house, I search for a tool that will help me dig a shallow grave. I need to dump these clothes before I go back into Savanna’s residence. I spot a rusty pitchfork that leans against an old tin trash can, grasp onto it, and start toward the crumbled stone structure that’s not too far off.

As I dig a shallow grave within half falling walls it doesn’t take long for Savanna’s little body to build up a sweat. Droplets of water trickle down across breasts and into the cups of her bra as I pull off a heavy wool coat and a shirt made of cotton. I draw the chemise across my nose as I bend down to untie taut laced boots and breathe in. Cotton, I’ve missed that smell.

I sit a moment on top of frozen ground and touch the skin covering her arms. It nearly mimics sugary honey that’s been kissed by the summer’s sun.

Gently, I lay the wool coat into the grave and shift the arms to its sides. Next is the shirt made of cotton, and the bra placed just underneath. I stare a moment with a tilted head at my masterpiece and finish it off with a pair of jeans and black boots. It’s almost as if someone’s in them standing at attention doing what I tell them to do and they listen.

“I say adieu, my dear Elsie.”

With the side of my foot, I shove small piles of dirt into the grave. Who says demons’ hearts can no longer beat? I scoff as I try to stomp unfastened dirt firm, “I even bid her adieu.”

Clothed in only skin, I start back toward the house. The moon peeks through clouds and causes this Caucasian body to become illuminated in the dark—I don’t like it. Being hidden and in the shadows is what calms me. The verses say that the light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has
not
understood it. But I’ve memorized the Bible and I understand. His name is the only thing that remains hidden from me. In my first seconds of experiencing hell, I couldn’t say His name, only think it and it quickly faded—I have a hard time remembering what the Father of Light’s name was, that’s the only thing I
can’t
comprehend anymore.

One thing nice about a small body is how hushed all the movements can be. It only takes one sudden hop and I’m on the ledge of the window. My eye’s follow the faint trail of the moon’s light before I climb in—it’s fascinating how it’s always darkest before the dawn.  

Savanna’s skin is blemished with now crackled blood as I move my face about. The Do-gooder sleeps heavy. I shush the dog, and keep him lying in his bed while I close the bathroom door and step inside the shower.

Water, this body craves it. I can tell with her fast beating heart and veins that aren’t as moist as they were. Drops of cold water trickle down my face. I part lips against the stream and allow it to flow down a sore throat, and through a body that’s aching to be free of me.

The taste of the chill is only enjoyed by my true humanless self and as I begin to acclimate to this body, lukewarm is the only temperature that doesn’t bring on a shiver. I make the water hotter with the slight turn of the faucet. I smile. This body will soon be mine. Steam fills up the room and I allow water to run until cold is all that remains—I want to make sure this body doesn’t stand out as a killer. Even though the only thing I’m longing for is rest now that my hunger has been filled, I still refuse to be sloppy—stupid.

I lay a fresh blanket over untidy sheets stained with virgins’ blood, fold the corner down, and pull myself under the covers in a delicate manner so I don’t disturb the well made bed and cause wrinkles. Both arms lay over one another across my chest and I turn to face the wall so the Do-gooder won’t take notice of sliced cheeks in the morning. I even cleaned the untidiness of his razor and put it away nicely.

Respite. I’d rather it take place within my own being, but for now this will do—I never thought it would come again. I’ve been pleading for sleep for nearly a hundred years. It’s nice to have a body that will allow me to rest. The breath of life channels into lungs and practically transports me away from my eternal suffering—the everlasting baggage I’m left to carry. But as I nod off, I know better than to get too comfortable with the idea. It will only make me weak.

Chapter 17

Unquenchable Thirst

~Daniel~

The Do-gooder wakes me as he tries to sweep hair free from my right cheek. He’s awakened me from the rest I’ve craved for over a millennium. Bitterness only ripens on my tongue for the man, but I keep my mouth shut if I’m to rest again.

He has the touch of a true believer. I lift the arm he’s touching and rest it across a wounded face so he’ll break free of me. If he touches me again, I know I will only do something I’ll live to regret.

“Sweetie, school’s in about an hour.”

I’m fully awake, but I bury my head deeper into the pillow and sputter out a couple of letters from the alphabet. I don’t want to exchange words with this human.

His voice resounds with fear because of Lucky’s circumstances. I like that. “Could you just keep in touch with me today?” he shifts on the bed, “I’m worried with everything going on and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

If I don’t respond to that, he’s going to notice something’s off. I grind teeth until sulfur drips onto taste buds before I speak. “Sure. No problem.”

He pats a hand over my leg. “Be safe, honey. I love you.”

I’m quiet and wait for the front door to close before I get up. It’s interesting how easy it is for me to sway men with greed and to quench their thirst for power. They want so badly to be respected and think they earn it by success of materials. It’s strange; this man wants respect in the opposite way. As the door shuts behind him, I grumble to myself, “You are pathetic, Do-gooder.” 

After watching Savanna for so long, I know how she goes about her days, her friends too.

I go to her closet, run fingers along clothes on their hangers and stop on the pieces made of cotton. I drape on a grey blouse, pull up dark blue jeans that sit just under my hips, and skip the bra—I don’t like those. Only two pairs of shoes to choose from that look like they date back to the industrial days, too bad I had to do away with the boots. I slide on a red sweater, pull the covering attached to it over my head, and grab the keys to the truck.

School, this ought to be fascinating, being there should help keep suspicions low.

The old truck bumps along toward my destination and it annoys me only because I’ve driven the best. Music streams through the radio, and some idiot is screaming about the animal he’s become. These humans know so little and think they’ve got it all figured out, even when they see past their flickering lights and into the darkness. Torture, they define it in their books as anguish of the body and mind—the infliction of intense pain (as from burning, crushing, or wounding) to punish, coerce, or afford sadistic pleasure. But that’s not the half of it. In hell they’re given a worm that can’t die and crawls through all the crevasses of their suffering corpse, the fire is never quenched, and the smoke casting up from their ashes goes up forever and ever. And the beasts that toy with them play with every fear that tainted their souls while on Earth.

The day is warm, but a snow storm is moving in. It’s funny how the stuff covers the earth like it’s trying to hide the sins of the world. But it doesn’t take long for something so pure to absorb the filth it laid upon and become dirtied, as it should be. Humans are filthy creatures. Before I was part of the fallen, I was above them. Now I have to be one of them. But as long as I’m getting rest, I guess beggars can’t be choosers. As I turn into a parking space, one of the grimy creatures walks past with a sullen glare. She judges Savanna because she’s the daughter of a preacher. But she’s only jealous because she wants a father like the Do-gooder instead of the parents that like to beat her. I glower back to add more fire to the blue flame already lit inside her.