⌽ Samael ⌽

 

I didn’t plan of leaving her all alone for more than just three days. But after I’ve buried the girl and covered her grave with dried grass, I must walk all the way back to the gathering hall and wait until I can talk to my father.

Either, he is waiting for me and then I will know that this was another test of his, or he’ll be unaware. And that will mean that either Rowena or one of my brothers had a hand in this.

Leaving Anna behind is the one thing I do not want. I have prepared for it, but not for how it makes me feel. I still have so much in store for her, so much I must prepare her for. It cannot wait.

Yet, I know, if I do not go there they will suspect that something is wrong. For all I know they already do, because, why else send me a sheep to do a wolf’s work?

I don’t see how I ever could have prevented this from happening.

My mind is working as I walk through the grass lands, my hands clenched into fists, my jaw tense, as I try to figure out who did this and why. Why would anyone from my father’s word send someone out to kill me whom I can overpower easily? That’s how I know that it was not about killing me, it was about my reaction to her poor attempt. And the only conclusion to this is that I have passed the test. I am the angel of death, I am the one to protect and execute, not to show mercy or remorse.

I do my best to not relive the moment of killing the girl, but my mind is replaying it repeatedly, and it is Anna’s face, every time.

It must be a message. A message to remind me of my promise towards my father that I must find Anna, or he will send out my brothers, who would be joined by my best men. They would have found her. I am still certain about that. But unlike me, they would not have been stealthy, or concerned to stay below the radar. Probably, they would have taken some more girls with them, maybe kill a few people, leaving more than just destruction in their wake, just to hide behind the fences that mark my father’s church’s property and with that out of reach for the police or feds.

This reminder tells me that my time is running out quicker than I had anticipated. And this means that I will have to find a way to get more time.

As much as I detest the thought, but killing that girl was the only right thing to do. Otherwise, the one who sent her would know that something is off. I do not show remorse or hesitation. It is not that one more life is wasted. I try to tell myself this is another life I have saved from more hardship.

Although my father and Rowena keep telling me I am doing God’s work, and often enough I believe it myself. But I only do it to make my deeds, and my life bearable.

As much as I love the solitude of my grandparent’s house, I also detest it. The longer I live here, the more memories resurface of a life I have forgotten. It began with a photo album of polaroid pictures I found in the hidden cellar of the house. It held pictures of my mother, the woman I never knew, but also pictures of myself with my grandparents.

Looking at those photos, and reliving those lost memories of mine, has been the worst torture I have ever endured. Nothing is more painful as feeling as if someone is trying to forcefully put you back together again, without having any glue on hand to keep your pieces attached to each other. Because it makes you look at the shards at your feet, at the shards that you once were and never will be again. It makes you want to cling to them desperately, without having enough hands to hold on to everything.

I’ve given up trying to hold those pieces together for some time now. The only thing I can do is build up the wall around them, giving in to the illusion that the wall is me. It’s easier to pretend that I believe it all and everything my father says. I used to. A part of me still does. It makes everything much more bearable.

So, as I stomp my way back to the village, I put another layer of brick stones around myself. Every step another brick. One brick that makes me blind. One brick that makes me deaf. One brick that makes me numb. One brick that makes me obedient. One brick that makes me oblivious. One brick that makes me furious. One brick that makes me fanatic. One brick that makes me love my father. One brick that makes me love Rowena. One brick that makes me smile at my brothers. One brick that makes me content. One brick that makes me happy about terrifying everyone. One brick that makes me feel a rush of rapture when people avert their eyes. One brick that makes me proud of my scars. One brick that makes me want to kill them all. One brick that makes me hate Anna.

Sweet, innocent, desperate Anna, whom I can still taste on my lips.

There crumbles my wall.

God help me.

And I start rebuilding it again.

My healing whip streaks are itching beneath the shirt I am wearing, as I approach the Church’s center. The gathering hall is the largest building by far. Most of the people who see my approach scatter like scared pigeons when they see a predator approach. I’m still too far away for them to know it’s me. It is the intensity of my clothing that gives me away. It’s dark red. The color of the guardian of the highest rank. Only I am allowed to wear it, even though I am still not named the commander of the guardians. My seconds in command wear dark blue, and the rest wear dark green. Only the guardians wear the dark colors, the rest of the church members wear light ones. And only my father and Rowena are allowed to wear white. My brothers wear light grey, that almost looks like silver, all the other light colors are free to everyone else. The only colors forbidden are black and red. Black only allowed on funerals. When we bury one of ours, all members of the church wear black. It’s the only time that all of us are equal. But never red.

Red is forbidden.

There is no explanation why.

I have a red dress hidden in a secret compartment of my bedroom. And I want Anna to wear it when I take her to my father. It feels right. I know that this bright red color suits her. She will be beautiful.

Whatever I do, whatever I try, while I walk my way down to the gathering hall, I can’t seem to get Anna off my mind.

This is dangerous.

This is risky.

I don’t know how to act normal.

I am worried that I will give away that something is different, that I have her in my custody already. But if I don’t, my father might send out my brothers. If I tell him that I know where she is. I will have to leave, and leave her alone for days.

I didn’t know that there was another kind of torture than those I’ve been through, until now.

Worry. Worry is the worst kind of torture, because it makes you realize that you are not in control. And, what I need most, is control.

 

೦ Anna ೦

 

The way Samael left me was so strange. I only realized that he unhooked the chains when he had left. I now can move almost freely inside my cell. The only point I cannot reach is the door. But even if I could, my hands are still shackled to my collar.

Why does he give me this illusion of being freed, when he’s leaving me behind?

This unsettles me.

Something’s up, I know it.

But since there is no food or water in here with me, he must think that he will return. Maybe he will punish me with parching and starving me again.

Thinking of that my stomach starts grumbling. All I had to eat was a bowl of oatmeal, and nothing to drink. He must come back to keep me alive.

This is when I realize that him leaving me is not what worries me. It is him kissing me like he did, and giving me freedom. I should be excited for him being gentle, but all I am is alerted. This might be a trick. He might want me to relax, just to punish me again.

There is still the candle.

Should I drop it again?

Or should I do what he asks me to, and wait for him to pull it out.

 

⌽ Samael ⌽

 

When I reach the gathering hall it is empty, just like my own mind should be, but it is not. Inside, there is Anna being chained back at the ceiling, her dangling helplessly like fly in a spider’s web. And it is coming to get her.

I grin. And, a rush of adrenaline exhilarates me. I should not grin. I should look grimly. As I just killed an innocent girl for no reason but my protection.

I should look ferociously eager to find the person who is responsible for me killing her. Each and every member of my father’s church that I was born and bred to kill. That is the only reason my brothers now stay away from me, because I would beat them if we were to spar or fight. It is also why my brothers only approach me together.

Just like now.

Being in the mindset that is expected of me, I can sense it if someone approaches me. And, for some reason I can sense if it is them, Michael, and Gabriel.

They share the same mother: my father’s first wife Leah, who is living in another secluded house on the church’s property, and has taken a vow of silence. No one has seen her for years, now. She was the one my father gave me to, after my grandparents died. Even then Leah never spoke, and only opened the mouth to eat and drink. I do not know if she has ever spoken to her own children.

I cannot say that she hated me, or not. To me she seemed to not feel at all. She was nothing but an empty shell, doing what she was told without any emotion. Her eyes were always dead and empty.

If it was not for my capital sins, I would be just as empty. If it was not for my need to execute not only my revenge on Anna, there might have been nothing left of me now, too.

Michael and Gabriel stop a few feet away from me and as they do, I turn around. For some time, there is nothing but silence between us. My face feels like a mask as it shows nothing but my anger about what has happened, and both of them do look like they do not know what I am angry about.

“You are back early, brother,” Michael states the obvious and I compose myself.

“Why are you here?” Gabriel asks.

They are only separated by two years and look almost like twins. Same height, same figure, same hair, and eye color: sand brown and dark brown eyes. We all inherited the latter from our father. I am about two inches taller than them and athletic. They are brawny. Ever since my intensified training, which started six years ago, I have learned to use my agility, and brains to outmaneuver and outsmart them. They are only a threat to me when they are together. And when they are together, they speak as if they have one mind, with the only difference that Michael states and Gabriel inquires.

“There has been an incident, which I must report to our father,” I allow my anger to ride on my words as I speak them.

“What incident?” Gabriel digs deeper.

“If you must know, be there when I talk to our father,” I give back.

“He is not here,” Michael tells me, and the corners of his mouth twitch in a suppressed grin.

Did they send the girl after all?

“Then I must see Rowena,” is my response and I start moving, as my instinct urges me to.

Or, maybe, it is my memory since my older half-brothers enjoyed beating me up when my father was not on the church’s premises. They did not care that I was only six and they were sixteen and fourteen. They are thirty-nine and forty-one now, and have two wives of their own each. They are fathers themselves. The thought alone makes me cringe, as I know that they both have a taste for children. The only difference between them is that Michael has a taste for boys.

I try to not move faster as my thoughts urge me to get away from them. Not only because they might want to beat me up again, but because I feel as if they are going to taint me with their disgusting appetite.

The Lord knows I felt as if I had the same curse for years, while Anna was with us. I longed for her the very moment I set eyes on her. And God knows I allowed my mind to wander in ways that were and are just as disturbed as my brothers’, but I believed that it would stop me from ever having such fantasies about other girls. And it is the reason I am always eager to punish myself in the most violent ways should an urge of any kind resurface.

“Rowena?” Gabriel asks. “So, one of her girls are involved? Or do you need to give her the light?”

They know. Both of them. They have done the same thing when our father is not here, but Anna’s mother still asks for me. Every time.

I want to stop moving. I want to turn around and face them. I want to take them on, and do what they did to me countless times. But the consequences are unpredictable, and therefore too risky.

So, I stay silent and continue marching towards the House of Healing, where Rowena resides and teaches the girls who are old enough to either become her apprentices or be introduced to womanhood. It had been three this morning. Now there are only two of them left.

My mind races. Was she a present for me, so that I would enjoy myself with her, since my father is not here? Or was she sent to infuriate me and then confront Rowena? What if Rowena sent her so that I would kill the girl and return to her threshold, so that she could try and seduce me?

Does any of this even matter?

Have I acted like this before?

I cannot slow down now, as my brothers are on my heels, following me like hyenas tracking a bleeding prey.

It is true. Killing used to intoxicate me.

And this intoxication ignited a hunger that I always need to suppress and restrain by punishing myself in the worst way; giving Rowena her light.

So, this is her doing. There is no other explanation that makes more sense. Maybe, my brothers caught on to what she planned and are now here to see what happens. It just reminds me of what they did to me when I had grown strong enough to start and defend myself. What they did when they finally overpowered me.

My hands twitch as I think of those times. Usually, I would slap those memories aside like an annoying insect, but I cannot. It was my ultimate punishment when my father thought of me as a failure. As his son, I was not allowed to make mistakes, or show mercy. As his son only he or my brothers were allowed to punish me accordingly. I don’t know if father knew or didn’t, and it doesn’t matter.

I always have been their favorite toy. For Michael to use me, and for Gabriel to make me watch, as soon as I looked at a girl for a second too long.

I do not understand why all these memories come crashing down on me right now.

Maybe, since, despite my attempts, my mind is not as empty as it should be. Anna is in there, somewhere in the shadows, lingering. I wonder if she knew what was happening to me during those punishments.

 

೦ Anna ೦

 

The silence in this room drives me insane. Nothing I hear here is not created by me or my movements: my breathing, my heartbeat, the clattering of the chains. I even hear the movements of my hands as they are so close to my ears.

I’ve dropped the candle and it created a noise so loud it almost felt painful. But after that, silence again.

I am pacing up and down in this cold cellar, just to keep myself warm. I return to the mattress regularly, so my feet don’t freeze too much.

Samael must come back quickly, and warm me, or give me some clothes. Otherwise I might end up with a bladder infection and those are painful. I cringe at the thought.

Then – I don’t know why – Samael’s words return to me: ‘I need to leave for a bit.’ What he said sounds as if it wasn’t his decision and therefore wasn’t part of his plan. If so, he had chosen his words accordingly, or didn’t say anything at all.

Why did he tell me?

So that I wouldn’t worry?

Or, maybe, because he wants me to wait for him, for his return, to become more desperate with every passing minute. Does his cruelty know no bounds?

 

⌽ Samael ⌽

 

All I want to do is turn around and leave, but that is the one thing I cannot do. Rowena sent for me, and I must report what happened to the girl she sent. My brothers can think what they want of me.

Even the birds seem to hold their breath. I used to not notice their songs in the background, but now I seem to miss it.

Arriving at the building I conjure my wrath and use it as I knock at the door. I can still sense Michael and Gabriel standing and watching a few feet away. As the door is being opened by a young girl that is not of the right age for any of this, I usher her inside and shut the door close behind me as soon as I slip through the gap, but not before I send a glare towards my brothers.

I know they will now approach the building and try to find a way to monitor what is happening inside.

Now, I give the girl a closer look and recognize my own niece, Michael’s eldest, Zoë, and my stomach churns. She is nine, old enough for her uncle to like her more then he should. The same age Anna was, when she joined us. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. As I open them again, Zoë has retreated a few feet from me, fear on her face. My jaw tenses.

When I look at her, I don’t feel what I felt when I saw Anna. No living being ever made me feel like how I feel when I look at Anna.

Some unknown part of me tells me that I should put Zoë’s mind at ease, and let her know that I am no threat to her, but that is not me. So, I turn around and leave her behind as I make my way through the house to the living room that is now an examination room and empty, apart from Rowena sitting there as if she is waiting for me.

She must have sent the remaining two girls upstairs to their rooms.

As I step inside, I leave the door as it was: open and fixate my eyes on Anna’s mother. They share the same hair color and size, but not the eyes. Anna must have inherited them from her father’s side. No, that is not true. Anna has her grandfather’s eyes.

I swallow down the bile that has suddenly shot up my throat, as I continue to step towards Rowena.

She gets up. She must expect me to be ready for her as I’ve just not only punished someone. She must know that I killed the girl and not just overpowered her and punished her. If I had done the latter, there would have been a possibility that I would have lost control in a different way.

“She’s dead,” I tell Rowena, and realize that I abbreviated the verb, which I was trained not to do.

Anna’s mother doesn’t notice, however. Her face is white as a bed sheet now. Her sudden fear towards me makes me even more furious.

“What did you think would happen, Rowena?” I raise my voice against her, for the first time ever, and she trembles as a response.

I have never talked to her like this. She has never been on the receiving end of my wrath. I have always spoken lowly, demurely, submissively. I would have never dared to speak differently.

I barely notice that I am breaking the rules, that I am treating her wrongly. She is a prophet, the woman with the highest rank of this church. Me talking to her like this might result in an open punishment. But there is no one to witness, no one to listen. With the windows shut, eavesdropping from the outside is almost impossible. And all the windows are shut. They are, because Rowena expected me to act like I have always done.

But now, now she is on the receiving end of my anger. Now, as I make a step towards her, she wants to retreat, but apart from colliding with the stool she has been sitting on, she cannot move further away from me. She is scared. And I love it.

“Sending a girl to me, telling her to try and kill me,” I continue bellowing at her. “What did you think would happen, Rowena?”

Her eyes are large, and filled with fear and dread. In the silence of the house I can hear her breath turning shallow, while I proceed to approach her.

Now, she doesn’t make any attempts to move at all. She is petrified, terrified of me. I never expected that me raising my voice would have such a pleasant effect on her. Rapture races through my veins as I take another step, not knowing what will happen when I reach that woman.

“You sent a sheep to a lion’s den.” I tell her, my voice as sharp as a knife, and I make another step. “A lion who has been trained to kill for sport.”

Rowena opens her mouth, but no sound escapes it, her vocal chords paralyzed.

All those times, I could have shut her down. All I should have done was show her how my wrath feels when you are in the center of it.

“What did you think would happen, Rowena? When I saw a knife aimed at me? And for what, Rowena?” I don’t yell anymore, I speak, coldly, and I can almost see my words create clouds of cold as they leave my mouth.

I now stand before the woman who’s only good deed in life was giving birth to her daughter.

“So that I’d fuck you with my tongue again?” I don’t give a damn about how I speak now, as I finally tell the truth, making her realize that I’m not stupid.

I’m not as brainwashed as they all think I am. It’s simply easier to play pretend, to accept the crazy rules and silence yourself, blind yourself, so that you can somehow endure.

How often have I cursed my granny for making me promise these things: to take care of the lost souls, to not let them kill me, to find a way to save my own soul. I’ve lost my path when I lost Anna. And now, as I have her back…

Her sudden movement makes my instinct kick in and take over. She tries to quickly grab something that lies on the table next to her chair, but I am faster and have captured her wrists in an iron grip.

She winces. I love it.

Rowena has a thin steel knitting needle in one of her hands. The other one is still lying on the table on top of the shawl she just has finished.

“Is that one for me?” I ask her, icily, and she nods, rapidly.

She always gives me a present after.

Bile is crawling up my throat again, and my cock aches in my pants. Violence. My body has learned to love violence, and my mind imagines terribly things.

“You killed that girl,” I tell her, hoarsely, and she instantly nods hastily again.

She is so terrified of me, that I am baffled. And I know that she is, too.

As the red returns into her face and colors her skin even healthier, I know it arouses her. And suddenly, I get it. She gets off knowing that the most lethal creature is giving it to her.

That’s why Rowena wanted me. That’s why she says that only I can give her light, because I am a monster, a killer. But now she realizes that she cannot control the monster anymore. Now she realizes that she has become prey, too.

I pull Rowena towards me at her wrists, and she is incapable of resisting me.

“I will never give light to you, again, Rowena,” I whisper, and she barely dares to breathe. “Do you know why?” She slowly shakes her head. “Because you don’t shout my name when you come. But Anna does.” I can’t stop the words from escaping me, and while Rowena’s eyes grow even larger, every word I speak lays the foundation of my destruction; I should have stayed silent, but I can’t. “She tastes so much sweeter, her skin is so much softer, her scent much more delicate. She sounds like an angel when I suck on her tender flesh.”

These words hurt her. I don’t understand why. I don’t care why. All I care about is that they paralyze her enough that she doesn’t notice me letting go of one of her hands, grabbing the other needle from the table and slowly stick it into her lung from behind.

Rowena wheezes, gasping for air desperately as blood slowly fills her lungs. Carefully, I pull out the needle and bring it up to my mouth, licking off the blood to clean my murder weapon, while Anna’s mother is still staring at me in terror, but silent.

“Don’t worry,” I whisper to her. “No one knows she is here. No one will know that you are a hypocrite and a liar. Your secret is safe with me. They will all believe that you gave away too much of your strength. Gabriel will make sure of that, after he fucks your corpse.”

That is the last thing she hears before the light in her eyes fades and the pupils widen.

“The Devil has a special place for you in hell,” I tell her, as I put the needle back and take the other from her hand. “I will meet you there, soon.”