Getting smacked around and hit was one thing, most of us got used to the pain. The lot of us had one fear while being housed in this church. It was the fear of growing up and getting older.
When we hit the age of thirteen that’s when our “private lessons” with Father started. I’ve seen what those private lessons left behind. The girls always came back a shell of what they once were. Closed off to the world.
They would have bruises covering their body, blood running down their backs and legs. Swollen eyes and busted lips. Their nails would be lifted, on the verge of falling off. Some of them would be in too much shock to even speak, for fear that this would happen again. While others took their own lives, dreading the possibility of having to go through it once more.
Today was my thirteenth birthday. So far so good. I’d sit on this hard floor all day and night if it prevented me from going to see Father. To any other person, he looked to be the typical voice of god. A sweet man. Tall, mid-fifties, round belly, long white beard, rosy cheeks. All in all, he reminded me of Santa Claus. Behind closed doors I was terrified to find out what he was capable of. Seeing it was one thing, experiencing it was another.
As I sit here on my knees, I pray to the Lord and savior, Jesus Christ, for salvation, for safety, to protect me from the inevitable. I was caught up in praying I didn’t hear my name being called out.
“Haven!” Mother Ann shouts. She’s nasty, making everyone cower in fear. She is undoubtedly the worst of the worst.
“Yes, Mother?” I keep my head bowed, just like I was taught.
“Child, when I call you answer. I don’t care how focused you are on your prayers, you respond when spoken to.”
“Yes, Mother. My apologies.”
“Place your hands on the floor child. Insubordination is not tolerated.” I do as I am told. Hesitantly, but I do it. It’s not worth the fight, even though I knew that this was going to hurt.
She takes the metal switch and starts slamming it upon my hands. Acting as if there was a spider she was trying to kill with a thin metal pole.
I hold in my gasps and whimpers of pain, biting down on my tongue. I don’t look down at the damage that is being done. I keep my eyes focused on the altar in the front of the room. Of Jesus on the cross. He gives me the strength I needed to push through this agony.
After about ten lashes on my hands, she stands up straight and runs her hands down her robes, fixing and creases that her over exertion might have caused. Somewhat composed, breath still coming out in pants, she leans down to whisper in my ear.
“It’s time for you to go visit Father, child. You are going to learn your place. Just like the rest of them did before you” I look up at her and see she is wearing a smirk as she throws her head back and laughs while she walks away.
She is evil. How she is a messenger of God, I had no idea. She is vile, full of hatred. I think the world would be a better place if she was struck down by lightning. How is our lord and savior okay with what she was doing to all of us It left me utterly confused.
Still kneeling, hands on the ground, I went to push myself into a standing position and almost collapsed. The pressure I put on my hands was too much. I looked down and almost passed out, getting a clear visual of my bones. My hands were covered in blood and skin is peeled back.
My fingers throbbed, and I could already see the swelling and bruising. I cradle my hands to my chest and stood using my legs, seeing the other girls looking over to me in pity. Most of them knew how this felt, this was not the first time a nun took their aggressions out on one of us.
I made my way out towards the door and I hear Mother Ann call out to me once more, I stop and turn in her direction. “You are to go right to Father, after he is finished with you, you will return here to atone for your sins. I will be waiting.”
“Yes, Mother.”
I take my time heading towards Father’s office. I attempt to mentally prepare myself for what is to come. Maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad. Maybe we will just talk or maybe he will tell me I am finally to be adopted. I doubted it but hey, wishful thinking.
I knocked on the door and waited patiently to be summoned inside. I stand out here for what feels like hours, when they were probably just mere minutes. My heart was racing, I felt truly terrified for whatever was to come.
“Enter.” I hear a shout from outside the door.
I grab the handle, forgetting about the damage done to my hands. I hiss through clenched teeth, replacing my hand back to my chest and cradle them while pushing the rest of the door open with my hip.
Once inside the room I bow my head and stand in front of his desk. “Father.”
“Welcome, child. Why are you dripping blood on my carpet?” he asks in a very cheerful voice.
“My apologies father. I needed to get punished.”
“And what for, my child?”
“Supposedly, insubordination,” I retort. He tsks multiple times at me, stands up from his office chair and approaches.
“I know for a fact my nuns would never cause harm to a person unless they deserved it. So, there was no doubt in your insubordination. You didn’t listen, or you wouldn’t have been punished so drastically.”
He reaches out a hand and caresses my cheek. I am outraged. I was praying like a good little girl, lost in prayers and got switched because of it.
“You have a sarcastic mouth child. That is distasteful and improper. We need to abolish that.”
Next thing I know, I am being dragged my forearm towards the door to the left of his study. He pulls out a chain from around his neck, under his robes, I see now that it is a key. He puts the key in the lock, unlocking the door and drags me inside with him.
“Stand right there. Don’t move.” He tells me. I remain rooted, following his instruction. It’s not like I have any other options, anyways.
I hear a match being lit and then father’s footsteps as he moves around the room lighting candles. I gasp as the light emits a glow and shows exactly what is in this room. It’s contains instruments I had no name for. The largest one was a cross, that was the only thing I recognized, positioned in the center of the room. The wall to the right was home to devices that looked somewhat likes whips. They ranged in sizes. I also spotted an array of pliers, hammers, and knives of sorts and then there is this little shelf filled with vials that looked like lotions and cream. I can’t help but wonder what those were used for.
“Pick your poison, child.” Father purred from behind me. I was so startled I jumped.
“Wha... what do you mean, Father?”
“Exactly what I said. Choose. Pick your punishment.” How was I to pick? I didn’t know what half these things were used for. I didn’t even know what I did to deserve this punishment. I followed all the rules. I made sure to always pay attention during bible study. I keep to myself, hardly ever speak to people, so why was this happening to me?
“Now choose. Make it quick, I am running out of patience.” He wraps his hand around my throat, not in a suffocating grip, running his thumb up and down, back and forth, showing his dominance over me.
I point to the shelf that had all the vials. They look the most harmless out of the lot. He nods his head down at me.
“Yes, yes this will do splendidly. Now, Remove your robes.” What? I was not going to bare myself to him. It was a sin. The only man who should see my body would be my husband, they made sure to instill this into us. I was only thirteen. Being married hasn’t even crossed my mind.
“NOW CHILD!” Father screamed at me.
“Father, I cannot. I cannot let you see me naked. It is improper.”
“You will do as you are told!” he growls.
I feel a sting across my face as my body carries me onto the ground. He is so much stronger than me, so it is not shocking that I fly to the floor, holding my stinging cheek with my still throbbing hands.
“Get up and remove those robes, or I will do it for you.” He steps away from me, going towards the little
shelf, he skims through them and then says, “Aha”. I stand back up, composing myself for another hit because I was NOT going to get undressed. He turns around, eyebrows scrunched together, looking angrier than I have ever seen him before.
He doesn’t even speak. Just rushes at me, grabbing the hem of the robe at my neck and rips, he shreds it in two. All my forbidden parts are out for this man to see. Tears start streaming down my face.
“Get on your knees, NOW! I will not be ignored again.” I do as I’m told, dropping to my knees. Chin resting against my chest. I hear a movement of clothing and I notice he is standing right in front of me. I see his boot clad feet up close, in my personal bubble.
“Look at me. When you are in the room you will look directly into my eyes as I teach you the error of your ways. I am the voice of God himself.”
I slowly look up and immediately turn my head away. Father has his robes open, hands on hips, completely naked in his nether regions. I read a comic book once, one about superman. He would stand in a pose like this one. It was funny, and I really wanted to laugh, but I didn’t think Father would appreciate that much, so I held it in.
“You just don’t listen, do you? I was trying to play nice, but you left me no choice.” He grabs a tight fist full of my hair and forces me to look up at him.
“Open your mouth, this is the last time I will repeat myself to you.”
I open my mouth and the hand that’s not in my hair grabs ahold of the thing in-between his legs. He strokes it and takes a step forward. I go to move my face out of its direction but the vice grip on my hair makes it impossible. He shoves it in my mouth, down my throat and I could help but gag.
“Again.” He pulls it out and does this multiple times before he completely withdraws. He pulls me by my hair up to a standing position. My throat feels raw and dry. I wanted to vomit each time he hit the back of my throat and I gagged, but he pulled out just before it could come to that.
“Now it’s time to rid you of your demons,” he tells me. I follow him to the cross because I have no other choice in the matter. There is a little wide stool resting right in front of the cross.
“Stand on the stool and face away from me, raise your arms up as if you were Jesus nailed to the cross. If you think that what happened moments ago was your punishment, you have another thing coming.”
He relinquishes his hand from my hair and I stand on the stool. My tears have not stopped since my robe was ripped off. He walks around me and forcefully grabs each wrist one at a time and restrains them to the cross.
He stands off to the corner of my vision and places his hand on his chin, bound to be thinking. His face lights up and he disappears to a part of the room I could no longer see. No sooner, I can feel him behind me. He places restrains on both ankles only this time there is a pole in-between them. My legs are forced to spread wide apart.
I hear a cap being removed from one of the bottles he grabbed early and a squirting sound. He hands start to rub together and then I feel his touch. It goes from the top part of my back to the cheeks of my bum. He then moves his finger to my crack. I shudder, sobs coming forth and start to pray frantically. I beg for help, for forgiveness, I apologize for anything I have ever done to displease him. God doesn’t answer me.
“This is going to be a lesson you’ll never forget child.”
Chapter 5
Hell is empty, and all of the devils are here. -William Shakespeare
Jett
I stay put for a few more hours, knowing that her shift must end at some point. Shortly after our… encounter, if that’s even what I can call it— she experiences something. Normally, I wouldn’t be able to pick up on it from so far away. She’s half way across the bar. The only time I can pick up on trauma so clearly, is when someone is really feeling it, if they are seeing it flash before their eyes so vividly, that it is like they are experiencing it all over again, like a movie reel inside their head.
It wasn’t that I could see what she was experiencing, no, I could feel all these emotions rolling through her in waves. It keeps changing from anger to fear, to pain and then sorrow. Not one emotion stays for longer than a second. What she feels, tears at my heartstrings. I don’t want her to feel these types of emotions. I want her full of light, of happiness. My goodness, I sound like a sap. When did I become someone who wants light instead of darkness?
I am a monster, darkness in its purest form. Much like her friend, Haven has lived through some of her own nightmares. There is only one thing I could think to do, I need to get rid of them for her. I don’t want to frighten her away so quickly, and I fear peering into her mind without her consent would be a violation of privacy. Even if I did do it to others, she is different.
I need to tell her what I was exactly, but it’s not something you approach anyone saying- “Hi, I’m the keeper of Darkness. To survive, I need to consume fears, nightmares, or memories. Sometimes I am a killer, other times I try to do the right thing and help people, it all depends on what kind of mood my demon is in.”
Yeah, real conversation starter. That right there will intrigue her or have her running for the hills; most likely the latter. Darkness is all I know and all I have known for years. He’s become a detrimental part of my existence.
***
“Sir, we have news from the north.” Two lower guards enter the king’s throne room, out of breath. The older of the two was the one who screams out. This right here is an act of treason, but the information he has is dire. We have been waiting to hear of this news for months now.
I am at my rightful place, next to the king, for his protection. He is eating his morning meal. Food is flying out of his mouth as soon as he hears the shouting.
Eighteen is the age in which I received the honored title of High Guard. Protector of the king, head of the army, his most trusted advisor. This means that I am one level down from the king himself and am highest on his protection detail. Too bad I don’t get to see combat. It infuriates me.
I was put on this earth for combat, not sitting around and twiddling my thumbs, waiting for the enemy to approach the gates, then have all hell break loose. I want to be out there with my men.
I want to feel the tightness in my muscles that comes from using my sword. I want to feel blood spray on my face from slashing someone’s throat, seeing the enemy take their last dying breath. This is not what I expected when I fought in the arena for this title. I had the notion that I would be leading the troops to fight whichever enemy the king had at the time. Not this. Anything but this.
“And? What news did you come with?” He asks, taking a cloth and wiping his mouth clean. He grabs the shiny cup, covered in jewels and takes a sip of his sweet red wine. The look on his face is full of irritation and annoyance.
“Your highness, my apologies for interrupting you.” The young guard lowers his head and bows. The other does not bother. He’s already fucked up. The king is a fair ruler, but one thing he absolutely did not tolerate was disrespect, he has the mentality that if one shows disrespect without corrective punishment, they all will attempt to revolt against him. In that, he was not lenient. So today, would be a good day after all. Spilling a little blood was better than none at all.
“Rise,” the king tells the guard. This lower guard, a young lad, around the age of fourteen stands and reaches into his satchel. He pulls out a letter, sealed with a kingdom’s emblem in wax. The lad approaches cautiously. Smart, they both were already on thin ice.
He holds it out for the king and bows once again. Staying in that position until he was to be dismissed. King Ecbert snatches it up, paying no mind to anyone else in the room. He reads the words, eyes going wide and then narrowing with anger.
“Out! Everyone out!” The king shouts to the people of his court. Everyone quickly rises and scurries out of the King’s presence. I go to follow.
“Jettsoir. Remain.”
“My liege.” I stop and turn to face him, giving a little bow of acknowledgement. Then, I head back
towards the space I occupied just moments before.
Once everyone is out of sight, I approach the king and take a seat to his left. I pour myself a cup of wine, giving my full attention to whatever needed to be said.
We have always been close. The two of us grew up together in a sense, almost inseparable since the day we met.
***
My family was not noble, we were farmers, so us being friends was just not acceptable. My parents grew the food that was supplied throughout the castle. So, when I was old enough, I would help my parents make the deliveries. Five was the age I was when I first step foot on castle grounds. It was summer, so food was growing in an abundance. It was also the time of year where the previous king would throw lavish parties for everyone and anyone who carried a title, so food was a necessity. Royalty would travel from lands far and wide just to see the wealth this kingdom flaunted.
We brought the fruits and vegetables to the side of the castle where the kitchen was. I remember standing off to the side of the cattle cart playing with a stick when I heard crying. Instead of obeying my parents and staying put, I made my way towards the sound. It was in the direction of the gardens. My parents used to tell me stories of all the castle had to offer. It was a glorious place, surrounded with all sorts of flowers and large trees. Behind one of those trees came the weeping. I stepped around the trunk and came face to face with a young boy, the same age as I. He looked up at me with tear stained cheeks.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I am Jettsoir, but my family calls me Jett. I heard you crying. What is your name?”
He gives me a quizzical look, wipes his face and stands. “My name’s Ecbert. Do you want to play?”
“Have you ever played tag? That’s my favorite.” It was the most fun I had, being an only child and all. We continued until I heard my mother shout my name. I grabbed Ecbert’s hand and dragged him over to meet my mother. Her eyes widen when she saw us approach. She ran towards me, pulling me to her side, running her hands all over me, looking for injuries.