Chapter 5
The next morning Mary wakes with much more clarity than she has in the last six months. The dream or nightmare or whatever it was had not revisited her and she had slept well for the rest of the night. She feels much better about the day for even though her past is still shrouded in mist; the present has become clear. She looks around with her new clarity; the sun makes the day bright and cheery, but this seems in direct contradiction to the wrongness she feels oozing into her.
It is with that mixed feeling that she makes her way from her bed and with that same feeling that she stumbles around the kitchen making her breakfast. Breakfast becomes a chore but she manages to eat for her body demands it. It is with relief that she finally makes her way out of the dilapidated room she calls home to start her new day.
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Mary has been walking in a daze for an hour before she comes to realize that she is not sure what “her day” should be consisting of; she releases a frustrated growl. This morning everything seemed so clear and now…. she searches for a bench in the park that she walked into during her daze. Finding one unoccupied, she sits down to consider her next move.
Except for the birds, the spot she chooses is isolated and quiet. She breathes deeply to dispel her frustrations and listens intently to the birds as they sing their songs and some instinct deep down tells her that they are happy today. Their songs are songs of joy, songs of enthusiasm of the coming day, excitement for the young they will surely have in the spring.
Mary is surprised when she finds herself replying to those songs and soon thereafter, she is surrounded with said birds; the gathering is unprecedented as natural enemies sit calmly next to each other. Sparrows, robins, hawks, crows, eagles, ravens, and chickadees; it makes no difference to them for right now it is all about the shining woman on the bench.
Mary touches each, delves inside it seems. This one is too old, that one too young and unreliable. She touches each and only when she finds the right mix; young, healthy, bright-eyed does she smile and not knowing why she does it or even how she marks it. The physical marks flare when applied and then disappears shortly thereafter leaving them without blemish but deep down she feels the thrumming.
The birds play and flop about and Mary smiles at their silliness, laughs at their antics, and chats with them for a long time. She feels so comforted, so at home, she could stay here forever it seems. It is just when she is feeling that nothing can go wrong that her peace is shattered. The birds dig their claws into her painfully, their voices rise in alarm, the sound so loud that it hurts the ear, and then they take flight. Mary looks at them in bewilderment and then suddenly finds herself on the ground with a heavy weight holding her down.
She panics. She has never been handled so roughly, she has always been invisible to them…..She struggles to move and the presence on her back pushes her painfully into the sweet smelling grass. A gruff voice warns her to be still and if the voice is not enough to convince her that stillness is her best option; the knife that appears before her eyes helps convey the message. Mary stops all of her struggling and waits.
Strong hands roll her over and a large hand immediately goes to her throat. Mary looks up into the eyes of a man filled with hate and loathing. The body knows it should be afraid, that it should fear for its life but something strong and bright inside her gives the body the courage to face those eyes without flinching.
“Why?” she asks simply.
The man slams her head into the ground, stars explode and she hears a voice telling her to be quiet. Then the voice goes on to give her a very descriptive picture of what will happen if she does not obey him and as the man babbles, Mary feels the knife cutting the front of her shirt.
The stars that have been floating in front of her eyes finally clear and Mary lies quietly absorbing the essence of the man’s spirit. She learns what has gotten this man to this point, what drives him, what makes him what he is. So deeply does she go within him that she almost loses herself and it is only when she hits his inner most blackness that she finds the will to escape his trap.
Her eyes come back into focus and she once again sees only the man. His spirit is one of the “bad weeds” that she remembers talking to another about and it is doing exactly what it was meant to do when it came into existence.
The man leers down at her naked flesh with such intensity that he does not even see the hand that she raises to his forehead. Her finger touches and her voice so soft to be almost inaudible.
“May your mind live forever in revelation.”
The man’s leering changes to screams of torment. Dropping the knife he takes hold of his head, a head that he is sure is going to explode. The mark on his forehead glows brightly; he swears in his pain; it flares and pulses causing him more pain than he has ever felt before.
The man finally manages to stagger to his feet and glares down at Mary. Calling her a bitch, he brings his foot back to kick her but the mark flares anew. Once again, he screams at the pain and finally not able to take any more flees.
Mary calmly watches him flee, and then she sits and repairs the damage the man did to her clothing. When she has repaired her shirt as much as possible, she again looks at her surroundings. Surprise shows on her face when she realizes that the sun is well on its way to setting; for she is sure that when she sat is was early morning.
Standing up, she completes the repairs to her shirt and calmly walks out of the park. As she is exiting the park, she passes three police that are struggling to restrain a screaming man. The man screams of incoming doom and of a woman cursing him. He boldly claims responsibility to a number of vile acts; rape, torture, and murder. He babbles and he drools…..any hope the police have of calming this man down is shattered when he lays eyes on the exiting Mary for the very sight of her causes the mark to blaze anew. He falls to the ground in convulsions. The tip of his tongue that was between his teeth falls to the ground, his legs buck and spasm, and his screams increase in both volume and pitch.
Mary turns away and commences the long walk home. As she does she becomes more in tune to the humans around her. Their “spirits”, for want of a better word scream for her. They beg her for attention; just a word, just one blessing; we want you…we need you….come to us and let us rest in your embrace. People start looking at her with more interest; something draws them. They recognize her but how and from where no one can say.
Mary feels those around her, feels them calling, and feels their wrongness. They are all twisted, all wrong. They beg for her but it is not with brightness that they beg but with dark menacing selflessness. This morning she had hope but hope threatens to shatter when she finds none worthy. In desperation, she pushes these spirits away.
Entering her apartment building that loathing and unworthiness continues to assault her body….so even where she lives she is not free from the pounding and seeking. It pulses, pushes and pulls at her, begging for her attention so forcefully that by the time she makes it to her own apartment she is breathing hard from the ruthless attacks against her being.
Mary closes the door firmly and then holding her head against those trying to invade, falls into a crouching position with her back against the door.
Help me. Even if I do not know who you are, I know you are out there. I can feel you close beside me. There is something…. something strong between us. We are one…..I am only a half without you…oh why are you doing this to me, why have you seen it necessary to torment me this way! Enfold me; make me whole again for I have yet to gain control and if this continues…”
A love so great that Mary is unable to describe it cocoons her. The pressures of the outside world dissipate in nothingness until it is no more than a thread. She wraps that love around her tighter and even though she is at a lost to place it, she knows that she has known this love for all of her existence. Place it or not she dwells within it until she has repaired the battering against her being, though even when her body no longer trembles in weariness she is reluct
ant to leave that embrace.
She would have loved to stay in that safety forever but she knows she has something important to do, even if she cannot put a finger on it yet. She is certain that the “other” is there to support her in her time of need but also knows that if she shirks her responsibility it will be greatly disappointed in her, not to mention how disappointed she will be herself. She is a part of this as much as the other, she is as responsible of this as is the other, she had agreed……yes agreed to this….So reluctantly, she pulls herself together and even more reluctantly, she pulls herself free from the other’s safety.
For a long time she sits with her back against the door. The outside world she is able to buffer once again and she no longer feels like it is going to rip her apart. But even reassured that she has control, she sits quietly, repairing the few remaining frayed edges of her battered being. Even after she feels repaired she simply sits and concentrates on her breathing and when finally she stands, she needs to steady herself against the door. As she braces herself she comes to a quick decision. Mary grabs the nearest towel and makes her way to the bathroom to submerge herself in a bath with the feeble hope that water will wash away the stench of the day and block the unwanted noise.
Mary lays submerged in the bath for a long time and would have continued doing so if the banging on the door did not get so insistent that she feared whoever was banging would soon break it down. Therefore, it is with reluctance that she returns to her room. Back in her room and like the night before she finds herself sitting on her threadbare sofa; though this time she does not need the television to tell her the news. She feels it all around her, she lives it and she dies with it. She is the one being tormented, the one torturing, the murderer, the rapist, the bomber….wars, guns firing, screams of pain, howling of the mad, the demented; the need for power and more power, never satisfied….greed, oh so much greed…..where to begin, how to find your way through all this madness.
It is the wee hours of the morning before her essence finally admits to the truth. So feebly an admittance that she at first refuses to acknowledge it; things are much worst than she imagined. How could they have let it get this bad…were they blind or indifferent? Tired and weak of spirit Mary finally crawls into her bed.