JACOB
So I find this law at work; Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. Romans 7:21
I was exhausted when I woke.
The haunting dreams that taunted me were ceaseless. Crawling from beneath my blankets, I threw my legs over the side of the bed, scrubbing my face with my hands before looking up at the crucifix on my wall.
He stared down at me, the image and symbol of the only being that could grant me salvation from my sins. The only being that could grant me absolution from my past.
After showering and donning my clothes, I fastened the white clerical collar in place, believing that what I carried inside was the worst of the nightmares I would face. Sedra was fresh in my mind, her plight taking up the majority of my thoughts.
How would I avoid her while helping her at the same time?
There were no answers and on this subject, God, as usual, was silent.
I was a priest, a man who was supposed to know exactly how our creator had intended for us to live, but with this situation – this puzzle – all the archaic knowledge written in His book was useless in answering the questions I had.
Battling my own demons while trying to exorcise Eve’s was too much for a man like me. I whispered my vows again as I fell to my knees, hoping in earnest that giving them voice would give them weight. Would give them meaning and the power to mean something when I was faced with temptation.
Finally stepping out of my room, a scream sounded from the sanctuary. My head spun in its direction, my feet carrying me through the empty hall.
Entering the nave, I looked up toward the altar, freezing in place to find a young nun dressed in the white habit of a woman who had not yet taken her vows.
She was slumped down in front of the statue of Mary that stood to the left of the altar, her hands working in the sign of the cross over her shoulders, head and heart.
Horror was written into the nun’s expression when she looked up again.
I, too, was silently lost to the desecration that stood before me.
The normally pure white statue had been mutilated - drawn upon in what appeared to be a dark red color.
Tears streamed from her eyes like blood, her lips were painted to resemble lipstick. Nipples had been drawn over her breasts and the base of robe had been covered to appear as if she’d walked through a slaughter. Whore was written across her forehead, the babe she held had been drawn upon to appear gutted and crushed.
Liquid pooled on the floor where the statue stood. I assumed it was paint despite the noticeable absence of the smell.
Finally pushing myself up, I ran to where the young nun had crumpled. Kneeling down, I prayed beside her.
Unable to close my eyes, I watched her fingers work over the rosary beads, tears streaming down her forlorn face, her lips moving and releasing her prayers on a fast paced whisper.
Turning, I touched the paint at the base of the statue, bringing my hand up to realize that it wasn’t what I’d hoped it would be.
Blood covered my hands, sticky and cool to the touch, the red color only barely shining forth from the damp black it had become in its thickness across the floor.
Sedra…
My heart lodged in my throat, my pulse so heavy and hard that it beat noticeably against my skin.
Running out of the sanctuary, I turned down another hall without even thinking about what I was doing.
I threw open the door to Sedra’s room, stopping suddenly at the sight before me.
She was spread across her bed, face down on the mattress, her arms stretched out above her head, the palms of her hands pressed against the wall.
Her body was exposed from where her robe had been opened and bunched up across her shoulders. The glimmer of moisture dripping down her legs.
Without thinking, I rushed to her side and grabbed her. She screamed when I touched her arms.
Fear and relief, guilt and desire, they met in a perfect storm inside me, splitting me apart at the seams.
“Sedra…”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” She interrupted my whispered words with her own.
Sedra could barely talk, her mouth opening and her body trembling. I couldn’t help but see her body bared to me, her robe lying open at her sides, Pulling it from where it had gathered, I covered her quickly, the act only causing her to cry harder.
Looking her over for any injuries, I was relieved to find none. The blood in the sanctuary couldn’t possibly have come from her.
My eyes locked on the black and blue bruising around her throat.
Created by large hands, it was if whoever had grabbed her still held on, refusing her peace despite having left her alone in the room.
“Sedra…” I spoke softly, slowly in an effort to keep from upsetting her more than she already was. “Who did this to you?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m …”
On and on, she apologized, but when I moved to console her she cried out at my touch.
Bags hung heavily beneath green eyes that stared at nothing. She wasn’t completely with me in the room, her mind disjointed and fractured to a point where whatever reality she existed in at that moment was far beyond my reach.
Pulling the blankets from beneath her, I winced each time she whimpered from the pain it caused. Covering her, I placed my lips on her forehead, reaching to close her eyes with my hand.
Softly, I begged, “Sleep, Sedra.”
She stilled beneath me, the shock of my words causing her entire body to flinch, but within seconds I could feel her relax against the mattress, her tired body finally giving into the rest she’d been denied.
Quietly creeping from the room, I closed the door, turning to find the young nun standing in front of me in the hall. Her rosary was clutched to her chest, the blood from the sanctuary staining the bottom hem of her clothes.
“Evil has been here, Father. Evil unlike anything I’ve seen before.” Tears continued to stream from her eyes, damp rivulets sliding down her cheeks to drop to the floor.
Touching her chin, I angled her face to look at me. She opened her eyes and I jumped to see they bore no color except for the black of her pupils.
“Why are you here, Sister? I’ve not called for assistance today.”
Her hands shook where they were cradled to her chest, the crucifix that hung from her rosary swinging in choppy motion at her breast. “I’ve been sent by Mother. Sister Joyce did not return last night. I’m here to check on her whereabouts.”
Shock tore through me. Shock and the bitter anger I felt towards a man I knew was the cause of this.
Frozen solid in my own disbelief, I looked towards the hall that led to the gruesome scene laid out in the sanctuary. Without answering, I asked, “Was anything else misplaced, vandalized or destroyed in the sanctuary besides the statue?”
She sobbed, her face falling to look at the floor beneath her feet.
“The holy water contained in the stoup has been contaminated. I’m not sure with what, but it looked like rust when I dipped my fingers inside. I’d completely forgotten about it when I stepped into the sanctuary and found our Lady had been…”
Her words segued into a heartbreaking sob, her fingers sliding over the beads of her rosary in time with her tears.
Placing my hands on her shoulders, I led her out of the hall and into the kitchen, sitting her in the same chair that Eve had occupied the night before.
“Sit here, Sister. I need to explore my parish. We don’t yet know what has been done. Please do not let your fear consume you. Evil cannot reside inside God’s house.”
Her eyes shot up, the white and black magnified by her tears. “We need to call the police…report this.”
My heart clenched at her words.
I didn’t want the police involved. Not until I had all the details of what had gone on while I slept.
“I’ll call them, Sister. Please. Make yourself some tea when you feel strong enough. Allow me some time to check for all the damage. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably young vandals who thought desecrating a church would be a fun time.”
She nodded, still clutching her beads. Before I could leave the room, she called out to me. “Father? Have you seen Sister Joyce or heard from her? Mother will want to know.”
“I’m sure Sister Joyce is fine, but no. I haven’t heard from her since last night. It’s doubtful that her absence and the vandalism of the parish are related.”
Lies and more lies.
Untruths stacking up into a pile of immorality that I would have to atone for when the time came.
I left the young Sister sitting in the kitchen while I inspected the rest of the parish. Nothing was out of order except for a window cracked open in my office.
It hadn’t been open the night before. I remembered locking it.
A breeze blew through the room, still carrying with it the smell of the night-blooming flowers that had closed when the sun rose in the sky this morning.
Shutting the window, I jumped when the wood frame slammed against the sill. Jericho had to be responsible for the damage to the statue…to Sedra.
Finally allowing my eyes to scan over the yard in the front of the parish, I saw a man dressed all in black.
Anger was a drum beneath my skin, my stride long and hurried as I made my way out to him.
He was leaning against a tree as I approached.
Carefree. Casual. Untouched.
His head lifted, his eyes finding mine.
“Are you enjoying her, Jacob?”
“Why were you in my parish last night?”
He pushed away from the tree and stepped forward, the dim morning sun highlighting the features of his face. Smiling, something wicked and dark flashed in the exaggerated expression.
“What have you done with Sister Joyce?” I asked.
His head cocked to one side, a gleam flashing behind the silver-blue as he examined me. Feigning confusion, he shrugged a shoulder and remarked, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sure.” Disbelief saturated my voice. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Jericho, but it stops. Here and now, this is over. Where is Sister Joyce? Where did you get the blood used to destroy my sanctuary?”
Lifting his hands, he held them out to me, palms up.
“I see no blood on my hands. I’m not sure what you mean.”
He smiled again, stepping forward so that a beam of direct light shifted over his body, a gleaming halo covering him. “Will you give her back to me now?”
“Not after what you’ve done to her. It wasn’t enough to warp her mind, but you couldn’t even give her one night’s reprieve?”
He laughed, his sick grin revealing the malevolence that so obviously existed inside him.
“She’s mine, Jacob. I’ve taught her, raised her, trained her to be everything a woman should be. She is one of a kind. And she will be mine again.”
Stepping forward, I refused to back down, my anger fueling something deep inside that I’d tried to forget existed in the years I’d hidden behind the cloak of a cloistered man.
“She is nothing as any person should be. Not man and not woman. What has happened to you, Jericho? When I left home, you were a devout man. You believed in the faith and the Church, and now? Now you are doing everything you can to spread whatever evil it is that has consumed you. Are you that angry with what the Church has done?”
My comment didn’t faze him visibly, but I knew my twin well enough to know that his momentary silence was spurred by the cutting words I’d spoken.
I expected him to explode with his retort, for him to curse the very ground I walked on, but instead, he simply shrugged his shoulder again, brushing off everything I’d said.
“You’ll learn.”
Looking up at me, the blue in his eyes resembled cold fire in the light of the sun. “You stand there pretending to be something you’re not. Something you can never be.” Taking another measured step forward, he asked, “How long do you think you’ll be able to hide from your past…to keep history from repeating itself?”
My spine straightened, every muscle tightening over my body. What could he possibly know of my past? “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”
“In fact, you do.” Holding up a finger he silenced me, sinister knowledge sneaking out from behind the placating expression he wore. “I would even bet on the fact that your past has been catching up with you in the last few days. I’m sure Eve is quite the catalyst.”
“What do you know?”
“Everything, Jacob. I know…everything.”
He paced the lawn, turning his back to me every so often without the slightest concern that I would attack him from behind.
“I followed you, brother. Tracked all of your accomplishments. What you did in college, the papers you published, every single one of your life events...” Stopping in his tracks, he didn’t turn back to me when he added, “Including the death of that poor, innocent woman.”
My teeth ground together. “Her death was not an accomplishment.”
“I’m sure.”
Returning his attention to me he flashed a genial grin. “However, I’m not sure her death was an accident as you told the police either. At least, not in the manner you described it happening.”
The light flashed in his eyes once again. “I know you, Jacob. I know your likes, your dislikes, your darkness…”
“Those were earlier times, Jericho. We were young…stupid…”
“We are still the same creatures. You can deny it all you want, but you know as well as I that there are inherent qualities inside each of us. Denying them will only drive you mad.”
“Is that what happened to you?”
He grinned at my question, but was unable to respond before we both heard the door of the parish open.
Glancing back, I noticed the young nun walking out from the doorway, the pure white of her habit stained with blood.
“Innocent youth draped in the shroud of a whore.”
Jericho’s voice was a murmur carried on the wind.
Anger rolled through me at the words, memories of his desecration of the statue of Mary, his words eliciting a reborn concern for Sister Joyce.
Turning back to him, my hands balled into fists. “What have you done with Sister Joyce?”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “It’s my turn now to claim that I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’ll call the police…”
His eyes locked to mine. “Call them. There’s nothing for them to discover. Except for a childish prank played on your church. Well…” He smiled, his teeth gleaming in the light of the rising sun. “…that and the confused girl you have tucked away that does not belong to you. The one who I assume is very frightened at the moment. Used, bruised and terribly confused about who’s holding her.”
His satisfaction at cornering me was tangible in the early morning air.
How the hell would I explain any of this?
The young nun approached us. Unaware of the situation at first, her expression changed when she looked between us. Her surprise came out on a loud gasp, the hand that flew to her mouth still clutching the rosary. “You two are…”
In her surprise, she’d been unable to finish the statement. I needed to force her inside the church, to protect her from Jericho.
Reaching out, I grabbed her shoulder, turning her back towards the building and taking a few steps to goad her forward.
“Sister. That’s a beautiful veil you wear.” Jericho’s low voice rolled across the expanse, seemingly taking over the large, open space in which we were standing.
The young nun turned around, not able to resist her curiosity to look at the man who was identical to me.
Although I gently tugged at the nun’s arm to gain her attention, she couldn’t look away from Jericho. She was too entranced.
I heard him chuckle as he approached. Stepping away, I watched as he took her trembling hand. She jumped, something deep inside sensing the malevolence of the man in front of her.
On a hushed breath, he spoke. “Before you take your vows, please think about who it is you’ll be serving. Is it truly God to whom you give yourself, or is it something different that presents itself in sheep’s clothing?”
She attempted to jerk her hand from his, but he held tighter.
I don’t know why I didn’t act to stop him, didn’t move to remove him from the innocent woman he was attempting to manipulate. I was too focused on discovering what he would say, too hopeful that he would make a mistake and clue me in to the reason he’d warped Sedra so thoroughly.
“Look at me.” His voice was stern and for the first time I witnessed a glimpse of the madness I knew existed inside him.
The young nun looked up, her body held so still that I knew she was scared of him, intimidated by his presence and the confusion it created within her.
Jericho’s voice was a bare whisper. “You’re making yourself a whore to the Devil himself, giving up your purity and your light for a body of liars and thieves.”
She tugged her hand away, stepping back with a look of raw fear written into her expression. Jericho smiled, stepping forward into her space. “What is your name?”
Her feet moved quickly to place more distance between them, her voice trembled when she answered, “Eunice.”
“What a lovely name.” Delighted by her responses, he continued. “Tell me, Eunice, have you been touched? Perhaps a ruler across the knuckles excited you, or maybe an overly friendly priest who helped you atone for your lifelong sins.”
Reaching out, he brushed his hand across her cheek and she shuddered, the trembling of her body visible even across the distance where I stood and watched.
Jericho’s fortitude slipped slightly, the persona he carried washing away slowly to reveal his malevolent thoughts. “But you haven’t always been like this have you?” His mouth puckered, his tongue tsking against his cheek before he grinned again. “Oh, come now, beautiful, don’t feel ashamed. Who was the little boy you let touch you? Tell me all about how he made you feel.”
Slipping his hand down along her neck, he smiled when she flinched but didn’t move to break free. She appeared hypnotized by his voice, her eyes opened wide in both longing and horror; the air of authority that he carried having seduced her almost fully.
“I could touch you even deeper, Eunice. My hands are not bound to mistruths and greed, my hands are freed.”
His hand slipped along her body further, brushing across her breast and down along her abdomen. She shivered where she stood.
Frozen in her own fear, she was unable to break away, her eyes flicking to me silently, begging for me to intervene.
I couldn’t.
Not because I was entranced by my own twin. Not because I didn’t feel sorry for the young girl who stood cowering before him. It was because I was reminded of my own dirty secrets. Ones that I’d been fighting ever since another one of his family collapsed on the lawn in front of my parish.
Jericho was as charismatic and charming now as he had been in our youth. Able to voice bullshit and have it fall on willing and attentive ears because of the tone he used.
This woman knew he was wrong in what he said. She knew she should move away from him, that she should run if given the chance, but she stayed. It was the same story repeated again almost twenty years later.
We’d both been given everything we asked, no woman refusing our advances or forgetting us once we’d finished toying with her. How many women had we abused in our youth? How many had he continued to abuse since I last saw him?
His hand slipped between her legs, the material of her robe bunching where he touched her. With wide-opened eyes, fear now strangled her where she stood. I sat in silent witness of her terror.
She was unable to pull away, possibly feeling for the first time the touch of a man’s hand.
It was against everything she’d been taught in her faith. A moan – or was it plea? – escaped her lips. Jericho smiled knowing well that he’d gained the upper hand.
“You like that, don’t you?” Soft laughter broke free of his lungs, his foot moving forward so that he could be closer to her, towering over her small frame.
“How would it feel if my fingers move just a little bit farther?” he asked, seduction rolling across his tongue. “How would it feel if they slipped inside your Bible banging cunt?”
Jericho’s next move was so fast my eyes couldn’t track it.
Within a split second, the hand that had been tormenting her between her legs was now wrapped fully around her neck. She was lifted from the ground, her kicking feet barely making contact with the dirt beneath. Dropping her rosary to reach up in an attempt to pry his hands free, her face turned blue, her mouth open on a silent scream.
His expression was impassive. Staring at her with the eyes of a man who was not new to the torture he inflicted on her.
Clearly, he articulated every word he spoke next.
“I felt you grow wet at my touch; the fear and trembling of your body is not a road to your own salvation but a response to the whore that exists inside you. Wearing the purity of a virgin, you mock God by giving yourself blindly to the greatest manifestation of evil that exists. Do you know how disgusting you are?”
She cried out when her body hit the ground. Dropped like nothing more than a tattered doll, she crumpled over herself, her body shaking on the choked sobs that poured from her throat. The physical violence broke my fascination. Leaping quickly to her aid, I pulled her from the ground, steadying her on shaky legs. Anger filled my body when I felt the fear coursing through hers.
My words rattled from my tight chest, my spine solid along my back. Every muscle twitched with the fury I barely contained.
“Leave this property now, Jericho. Do not let me see you here again, or so help me God, I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Call the cops? Send them to my property? It’s your word against over a hundred others that I was even here this morning.”
He smiled. “I welcome you to make that call. I’ll be sure to let them know that their beloved, parish priest is holding a young woman against her will, committing untold atrocities against her in the room where he has her locked away. They’ll interview her, you know.”
Pausing, he gave me a second to process his words. Tilting his head, he asked, “What do you think she’ll tell the police about what happened during the night she spent in your church?”
“Leave.”
I had nothing to say to him and I refused to take part in the cat and mouse game he was playing. There was no room in me for patience, not with him, not any longer.
Laughing, he turned, nonchalantly walking back towards the woods before shouting at me from over his shoulder.
“Enjoy her, Jacob. You don’t have much longer.”