His Dark Ways (11 page)

My nightgown grows heavy as desert mud dries to its ends. I take it off and lie down. Daniel sits on the side of the bed, turns away, and fiddles with the tips of my fingers—palms growing warm. I start to doubt my actions. Being with him makes my head spin so fast it’s hard to control my thoughts—actions. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice hushed, “you are just so beautiful. I’m going to have a hard time containing myself.”

I sit up, guide his head toward mine with a hand against his cheek and stare into his eyes. I want to say something, but no words come. There’s a darkness about Daniel, like he’s been around the monsters too long. It’s not the type of darkness that springs up in the shadows, or kills, but the kind that haunts a person and no matter how hard they try to run from it, it’s always one step behind them. It’s a sadness so wounded it bleeds with an unguided pulse. Every time he looks into my eyes, it’s like he’s peering into my soul. Our stare breaks, warm lips touch mine, and I suddenly find the words I was looking for, but I don’t need to say them, he already knows.

As he leans over me, he steadies himself with one hand on the bed and touches my ankle with the other. Fingers brush up my thigh and end at the center of my torso—breasts untouched. With a pause, he gazes over my body and thinks my skin is like warm milk—the kind that’s pure. If humans could hear each other’s thoughts like this, his words would be the only ones I’d want to listen to. From the crease of my right breast I feel the light touch of his hand encircling around the larger part of flesh over my chest as he maneuvers his body over mine.

Our tongues slowly collide over one another’s.

Heavy breaths weave into one another. “I can’t,” he says trembling, “I don’t want to be the one to take this from you.”

I grasp the buckle that sits just under the fold of his long coat. It rustles as I turn it loose. I’m not strong enough to say no and it’s only because I don’t want to.

Skin touches the inside of my thigh and he pushes himself into me. I’ve heard stories of girls losing their virginity. Most of them were horror stories. This is nothing close to a horror, it’s close to dreams I’ve had where I’m standing in the middle of a garden that’s hidden in the mountaintops of Heaven. It’s not too hot or cold, and the trees overflow with flowers I’ve never seen on Earth—colors I’ve never laid eyes on. I’m color blind in a way because I can’t comprehend what I’m looking at.

Daniel’s hair tousles carelessly around his face and he sweeps down to press his lips on mine.

But this time, I can’t breathe—I’m suffocating. His lips suddenly taste of poison

I reach my arms out to grab onto something, as if to ask him to rescue me. I force my thoughts into his.

I can’t breathe, please help me.

“I can’t,” he answers.

Then I realize those trees in the mountaintops weren’t from a previous dream as I reach out and pick a flower off a branch.

A voice is screaming out to me, “Run, run, Savanna, run.”

It’s Lucky, dressed in blood. A force pulls her away and I’m left in the uneasy silence of a world I don’t yet want to belong to.

Chapter 13

Hurt

~Daniel~

I’ve never moved into a woman, unless she was dying. They’ve always been weak, but this one is different, I can feel her heart—it’s strong and her soul tastes powerful.

It’s nice having a heart beat within a living chest, I breathe in. “That’s better,” I say with an exhale. There’s rawness in my throat, but I don’t care, it feels good to have flesh again—it’s addictive and reminds me of a warm appetizer—you try a little and end up wanting a lot. I grip the edge of the bathroom countertop and focus on trying not to mess things up this time. It’s not every hundred years I’m unleashed from punishment that I get a chance to do this. I stare at Savanna’s pretty little face in the mirror. “Stupid, stupid, naïve girl. You should have listened to your daddy. I’ve been watching you for a long time.”

Daddy’s razor sits in plain view, I pick it up. A raw throat has left me unsatisfied, I want to feel more—pain other than mine. I tilt it against the higher part of my cheek bone, shift it sideways, and push the corner up and then slowly down. Blood streams past a cluster of freckles and across a closed mouth. I hold my head up and let the blood sit in the crevasse of warm lips.

I’m left with the same unsatisfied ache as another stream of blood runs toward my eyelid. Every time I’m out of the flesh, I crave it and when I finally get it I’m only reminded how it leaves me wanting more.

All my desires were met in heaven and now that I’m part of the fallen, my new design was programmed to be Satan’s puppet. Steered by greed, always on the hunt to swallow souls—devour them.

I made a mistake. ONE. I chose hell.

How can He forgive these little humans over and over and not us? It was a mistake. I messed up and now I’m left to suffer—carry out Satan’s will. It hovers over me like the forgotten wasteland that reeks of burned flesh and where tears only add kerosene to blue flames.

A pity of foolish souls taunt me—the one’s I’ve killed, their sorrows of not wanting to see Lucifer anymore echo in the caves of my unfilled heart, beating, breaking, and forcing me to kill.

My new purpose is to damn souls to hell, and I’ve been cursed to remember who I once was. I crave the peace—the warm touch of love, the same type of love Savanna could only show me for a moment, before I touched her. But the bitterness that churns into bleakness—darkness forces out the monster I’m now meant to be. Fear is the ever-beating way within my soulless being and that bastard never gave me a chance to redeem myself. Now Satan uses me as a puppet to carry out his will—his bidding.

I try calling out to the Father of Light with a jaw tightly locked down like a pit bull. Spit splatters the mirror, “F-f-f-f.” I can’t say it or remember His name. It cripples me every time I try. Yet another reminder of how He never wants to hear from me again. For so long, I loved Him, gave Him everything, and then He gave me a choice like a human child in a candy store. We can be just as fragile as humans, He knows that. Why do they have chance, after chance, to be with You again?

A side tile breaks into my palm and blood drips in between fingers as I look toward the Heavens forgetting where they lie. “You bastard!”

A chest is heavy. Savanna’s body is tired and the stain of lost innocence sits like rust in between her thighs. I dare not turn on the shower, I’d wake the Do-gooder in the next room and his angels are strong—they’re forcing me away to rot in a pile of trash like a rat. 

I’ve already been given my first assignment; it’s time for the devil’s bidding to be taken care of.

Chapter 14

Dead Salvation

~Daniel~

Dressed in Savanna’s black jeans, a heavy wool coat, and tight-laced boots, I jump from the window to avoid the dog and start toward the hospital. I walk, to keep the night quiet, and let my eyes wander across the desert as I try to find the seven others I was forced to take back with me from hell. The shadow of one is already moving across the playa looking for rest. I ground feet into soft dirt and watch the stupidity of his torment overtaking him.

He changes first into a rabbit and then a butterfly and flutters around with a broken wing barely hanging onto the wind. In a time that wasn’t long ago when we were part of the Kingdom, we were allowed to transform into anything that breathes. I remember transforming into a humble broken man just to see if anyone would invite me into their home for a breadcrumb. If they did, I was given permission to bless their home—their life. Or when I would simply turn into something beautiful and move past a hurting human. All my being had been created for curing pain and bringing beauty to Heaven and Earth.

The black butterfly is now fallen and sputters around on a rock. I watch as he transforms back into his bruised half broken humanless self. Eyes meet each other. We share one common thing—torment. He hasn’t found rest and turns away to go back to the person he came from. Our dark father hasn’t chained him up long enough—I can tell he’s weak.        

My first assignment rings in my ears—it’s nearly crippling and impossible to hear anything else. I pick up the pace before the devil already makes this body deaf.    

When double doors open, the bright flash of lights through the hospital entrance gives me a glimpse of who I once was. They’re pathetic compared to the light I used to live in—thrive in—the light I obviously took for granted. I pull a hood over my head to hide a blood crusted face, tuck hands deep into coat pockets, and make my way toward Lucky’s room. A shadow of smoke guides the way to where she lies sleeping.

It’s quiet. Nurses are bullshitting at the nurses’ station; most of them believers—interesting. To run into a cluster like this is rare. I don’t think I’ve even seen that many all together in the churches I’ve been to.

Lucky’s door is cracked open—a dim light hangs over her streaked hair. I’m glad I got to choose Savanna; this one’s not as appetizing. I pull up a chair, sit by her side, and place a hand over her calf. She’s getting stronger—quickly. My cold touch must have awakened her. I try to force her to keep her eyes shut, but she opens them. It’s funny because the machine inside her keeps her silenced so that task is already taken care of, making this effortless.

I force her eyes shut again.

She scuffles along the bed. Heels unhook sheets from the corners of the mattress. Fear grows in her, making me stronger. She looks me in the eye and unhooks her IV. She knows I’m not Savanna. Its constant beep draws attention and the red light outside of her room blinks slowly, silently. No one’s in a hurry to come see what’s the matter, but I know they will be here any moment to fix the mess she’s made. I don’t have much time so I focus and force a disease into her body. It won’t kill her now, but eventually. I’m satisfied. I tuck cold hands into warm pockets and leave the room.

The long trail of smoke has gone and I’m left to be tested, to make sure I carry out the Devil’s will on my own. The air is no longer thick with ash or taste of charred, but it is air I still have to share with these sinners and not as clean as the air I once breathed in Heaven. I can still smell human flesh lingering; I’ve been in hell for too long—it’s permanently burned into my senses.

Every step I take I keep expecting skin to slide off my legs and feet into coals that pop and sizzle with the body parts that constantly move over them.

Anytime I tried to call out to the Father of Light as I was in hell, Lucifer would tear the ventricles from my heart leaving it only to thump as if it were a half deflated balloon left in the trash and no longer wanting to be played with by a child. He’s such a bastard.

Long white tiled hallways smell of bleach. These humans try so hard to not think about death. They go on pretending everything’s okay when hell is only moments away.  

Every time I follow through with these assignments it makes me starve for a soul. I want to feel an unbeliever have their salvation pried from them—their souls laid to rest no more. It’s sadly a craving I can no longer cut loose. I step out into the night, walk along the side of the road, and wait for the next unbeliever to cross my path. It shouldn’t take long.

This body shivers and I like the fresh chill over my skin. The longer I have to wait to cross someone in the night, the more impatient I grow. I’m a hungry animal who wants to devour its next meal.

Most of the streets are empty except for the cars heading to Vegas. The city of sin they call it. I huff. “They obviously haven’t heard of Pripyat.” If only they could see the real reason that city was evacuated—they would try to rename their “sin city”.

As I step through downtown, I notice a yellow light barely glowing over the concrete. It’s the only place open besides the gas station. A woman staggers out of the bar and makes eye contact with me—her accent heavy. “Hola, Savanna, bebe. Why you out so late?”

I stay quiet and wait for more words to come so I can find something to deceive her with. She bobbles her head around trying to see under my hoodie. The beer in her hand sloshes around and spills all over the front of her shirt. She doesn’t even notice. “What happened, sweetheart? You are hurt.”

I ignore her observation. I’m too ravenous. “Are you alone?”

“Kind of, but I may have met a sweet man tonight. Maybe like the one we talked about the other day.” She continues with words slurred. “Now tell me, bebe, what happened?”

I nod my head toward the alley. “Can we talk in private?”

“Okay,” she says hesitating, but she trusts me, or Savanna, I should say.

She was once a believer, but not anymore. I can barely contain myself as I listen to the clamor of her red heels echo through the alleyway. But I’m not weak like I used to be, I keep calm and lean up against the brick wall and wait for the glass bottle in her left hand to be within arm’s reach.

Slurred speech is more prolonged, she can barely speak now. “Why we here? Creepy here.”  

I pry the glass from her fingertips and bash it over her head before she has a chance to scream out. The sound of her skull hitting the concrete isn’t as loud as the bottle was and I lean over her still body and breathe over it like a lion ready to eat its prey.

I take a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure we’re alone—we are. I pick up a larger piece of the broken glass, grip onto it, and slowly pierce her heart.

Warm blood spurts in between the piece of glass as I pull it loose and I wait for her soul to leave—it’s half departed.

I move into her while she’s still balmy.

How precious, her name was Elsie. I watch as her soul moves toward the Heavens for its day of judgment. It’s fascinating how powerful a soul is. Even if I plucked out all the stars from the sky and clumped them together, they still wouldn’t be enough to make one human soul. Is that why He loves them so much, they’re full of his precious sparkle?     

As I lay in her body, I feel warm blood drain from ears and the slight suffocation of lungs still trying to catch wisps of air.