⌽ Samael ⌽

 

I have spent the night at the same motel room I always stay in the first night away from the church’s premises. It is mundane, clean, and nothing special. A place at which you are completely anonymous. People come and go in what feels like an hourly basis, but it is not that kind of place. It is just off the highway in a nowhere kind of area. People stop, because they need rest, and then take off as soon as they can.

They have a diner. The food is decent. I always eat the same thing when I arrive: apple crumble pie. It is quite delicious, but it’s not my grandma’s recipe.

This place is so ordinary, so random, it makes you forget that the world outside is a cruel place, it makes you feel like the world inside is even worse.

Normalcy. Hell’s true form.

I always pay cash, and always use the same name: John Godfrey. It would be tipping them off if I would change that name, so I keep it. They believe I’m a salesman, and I let them believe that.

Television. Yet another thing. Another temptation. I could stare at that box for days and eat junk food, like normal people. But I don’t.

I keep it running when I work out though, because it keeps the noises out, and the voices.

I am six hours away. That is far enough for no one to care who or where I am. I arrived in the middle of the night, but I could not sleep. Not after disposing of my fake corpse in one of the unwatched garbage containers behind the motel. Not after working out two hours in a row. My slumber was brief and light. It was because my body was exhausted.

Usually, I sleep quite okay in these beds. Usually, I have Anna to look forward to, and not return to. That is one of the reasons I could not sleep. The other is what I left with her.

I know that I couldn’t stay with Anna, because she wouldn’t let me. I can imagine her reaction without watching it, because I know how I would feel. My grandparents were everything to me. The thought of someone taking them from me replaces everything with white-hot rage. I cannot imagine how it would feel though if I found out it was Anna.

She has read the file. She knows how they died, how I killed them. There is no forgiveness. That deed is an unspeakable act. I argued with myself about it, went through every possible explanation.

This cannot be forgiven.

I do not deserve forgiveness.

I do not need to ask for forgiveness, because my deed was done in the name of my father’s church, the only true church, whose members will be the only ones becoming soldiers of gods, angels of earth when the second reckoning arrives. And then, we will be freed from this place which is Hell disguised as earth. Only under the protection of our leader, within the confinements of the church’s property are we truly safe.

That is what he teaches. That is what I was taught to believe by my family. My grandparents did, too, but only when my father was visiting. When I asked why my grandfather told me that I did already hear enough of these lessons when I was back in town.

But I believe that this place is Hell. All of it.

Hell, in disguise.

But I also believe that Hell has reached across the borders my father has built, tempting us in different ways. And I prefer the true Hell over this one.

 

೦ Anna ೦

 

I slip in and out of sleep. My entire body hurts, inside and out, but I don’t care, or move. I don’t think. I just wait. Wait for him to return.

I’m a caterpillar in its cocoon. I simply don’t know what I will be like should I hatch from it. There is no hint in my thoughts because my thoughts are empty. I just stare at the metal of the bucket right in front of me, until my eyes fall shut again.

My nightmares don’t give me a hint either. They show me Hell, my own personal hell, having to watch them die, while being chained, wearing that cage, my hands locked to them, incapable of doing anything. I watch Samael kill my grandparents, and sometimes, it’s me ending their lives. I don’t know what that means. And I don’t want to know.

My mind tells me that it’s my feeling of guilt, since they died because he was looking for me.

Only one year until he came. It took Joshua only one year to break him and make him go after me to bring me back. But that’s not entirely true. Sam was under his thumb for decades before that.

Still, it doesn’t change a thing.

Can I really blame Sam for this? Isn’t that the same logic he used? Blaming me for being left behind?

No, I did not pull the trigger, not caring if he’d die.

What his father did, what the men did who carried me away and left Sam behind was rational, devoid of emotion. It was a choice after deliberation. What Sam did was the opposite. He didn’t think. He acted. He did not control his emotions and chose to kill them.

He just did.

I close my eyes again, but the images have stayed to haunt me. Because of that, I try to keep them open and stare at the pattern on the metal bucket. That’s the only thing I do. I don’t move. I don’t eat. I don’t drink. I just wait, staring. Until my eyes fall shut again.

 

⌽ Samael ⌽

 

I know Anna will need more time. However, it is not important and it doesn’t make any difference where I wait until that time has passed.

I have a recording I can replay that shows nothing happening at the gates, so that I can slip in and out if necessary. For emergencies.

This isn’t an emergency, and, also, what do I have to gain from watching her from the monitors? If I go back, I will have to park my car elsewhere and hide it. I might risk the Feds finding it and search it. I keep my car meticulously clean, but there is always a risk. Plus, I can’t stay at the house in case someone comes along again. I will stay at the shed.

I have screens there, too, and a hiding spot no one knows. Just in case. I’m prepared for everything. But I am not prepared for watching her break. I know that. And I will see that happening, see her still shattered in pieces when I return now to watch her.

I must wait until she is ready, until she can accept being put together anew. I don’t know how I will feel when I see her as broken as she will be. Broken, and eager to stay that way.

God knows I wanted to stay that way.

Because of that, I made sure that she cannot harm herself irreparably. I know she has discipline and with that always comes a strong survival instinct, one you cannot suppress for too long.

So, she will be fine. Physically.

I start packing my things together before I make the conscious decision to go back. There is no rush, and so, I force myself to slow down to avoid being sloppy and leave anything behind. I check three times, like I always do, before I leave the room.

I’ve paid for two nights without room service, so no one will enter the room before those two nights are over. I leave the key in the drop box and walk back to my car, and check the vehicle for anything out of the ordinary – three times – before I unlock it and check the inside – three times.

Everything is fine. Should the Feds have seen and followed me, they were wise enough to leave my car alone. They tried it a few times already, to put a tracer on my car, or smuggle a drone inside the premises. Needless to say, they failed quite miserably, every single time, and I had new materials to work with.

 

೦ Anna ೦

 

Sleep was merciful with me. It’s still day, but I feel better, even though it’s probably not the right word. My body hurts less, but my mind is empty.

I’m not ready to see Samael though. I don’t know how I will react. My heart is still shattered, but I am functioning.

I function enough to know that my grandparents wouldn’t want me to kill myself over this. Not that they ever said that suicide was a sin and I would end up in hell for this. They told me every life was precious and unique, and should not be wasted.

I know I must pull through for them. To honor them. I must live for them, since their lives were so violently cut short. I must continue what I did before I learned who their killer was.

It is easier said and done.

When I hear the two bars of the metal door are being moved, I know that I am not ready for this. I shake my head, that starts pulsing with ache, and pull my legs close to me, crossing my ankles in front of my lady parts, to cover them, and move as far into the far corner of this room as I possibly can.

I know that he knows I’m in here. I know that he probably finds me right away, no matter what I want.

The door opens and I deliberate for a second if I should simply close my eyes and pretend to be asleep again, when I hesitate. Samael is not stepping inside.

Is he testing me?

I am broken, shattered, but I am not stupid. I can’t reach the door; the chain is too short.

Samael knows what he has done. When he gave me the photo album, he knew that I would figure it out. He was leaving for three days, and that is why he gave it to me. Coward.

Three days.

This is the second day.

My hurting heart begins to gallop as I stare into the black hole that is the open door.

Dread crawls up my skin like an armada of spiders. I want to shake my head, refuse this reality to exist but I know now, I cannot escape this hell of mine.

Quickly, I let my shaggy hair fall into my face. If I’m lucky, whoever enters does not recognize me, has not seen me through that monitoring window. Maybe, he or she won’t be interested in me. Maybe, probably, this is part of Samael’s plan.

Why did I even think that I could trust him? How could I even believe that in these three days I would be safe, or feel safe?

Maybe I am stupid. I’m nothing to him. I’m meant for his father.

The person that steps into the only ray of light in the room that falls through the small vent, is not who I expect. Just a moment later the light on the ceiling comes to life, relentlessly flooding the chamber. There is no shadow I can hide in.

But do I need to?

It’s a girl. From her looks she is strangely familiar, but I can’t determine who she is. She is probably old enough to be in school, but not old enough for high school, so somewhere between eight and ten? Her white dress makes her look oddly ethereal, especially with her blonde hair.

I want to look up and at her, brush my hair aside, so that I don’t appear like a wild animal, as she walks farther into the room and towards me. She tilts her head in curiosity, and blinks before she asks me: “Who are you?”

Again, I ask myself, if this is a test. Samael has asked me this question and expected me to call myself ‘Rachel’, but I’m not Rachel, I am Anna.

But before I can answer, she already continues to speak, and points at herself while she makes another step towards me, as if I am in fact a wild animal.

“I am Zoë,” she smiles at me.

“Zoë,” I croak as I repeat her name and she nods, smiling wildly as if I just made a trick.

Zoë.

I know this name. I have heard it before. And, I remember. I was there, when she was born. I held her when she was a baby and looked after her from time to time. She’s Michael’s daughter, his first born, and was only three when I left.

Maybe, she has no idea who I am.

Maybe, she can’t remember me.

But she’s Michael’s daughter.

“What is your name?” she asks again, still friendly, still curious, but she doesn’t come closer. “Why are you in Uncle Samael’s cellar? Why is he hiding you here? Have you done something wrong?”

I try to understand her questions. They seem so odd for a girl her age. Nine years old.

“Do you need help?” Again, she doesn’t really give me the chance to respond.

I deliberate if I should answer her. This could still be test or a trap, possibly both.

“Are you the woman in red?” There comes the next question that confuses me. “Are you going to be the new Rowena, the new mistress?”

The new Rowena?

“Rowena?” I croak again, because I want to know what she is talking about.

“He has not told you?” Zoë inquires and my blood starts to freeze. “Your mother is dead. He killed her. With a knitting needle. I saw it.”

I stand corrected, he didn’t only kill what I loved in return. He eradicated my family. And now I want to do the same with his.

For the first time since forever, I feel my body again, how my muscles flex, ready to obey me. She’s just a child. But Samael wouldn’t care. Would he?

“Your mother is dead,” the girl states and looks confused. “Why are you not crying?”

I get ready to pounce. She is close enough so that I can snatch her. Maybe, if I keep her alive, Samael will let me go. He wouldn’t want his big brother to be mad at him, would he?

But then liquid ice is poured over me, making me freeze, turning me immovable.

Zoë turns around.

“I think she is not right in the head, father,” she says. “Did I do good?”

“Yes, my child.”

The male voice cuts through the air like an arrow, hitting me right in the chest. I would cry, if I had any tears left. But they are all shed and I am empty.

I recognize this voice and the one that follows: “Should we tell father about what we just found behind that trap door he told us about, or should we play with it first?”

‘It.’ They think me an animal. I feel like an animal, trapped, and starved, and ready to die.

And then they enter the room, slowly, at a leisurely pace. Zoë runs to her father, who pets the top of her head before he sends her off, a spring of happiness in her step. Has she any idea what she just did?

I don’t dare to move. I breathe shallowly. It is just instinct. Don’t draw the predators’ attention. Maybe they lose interest or remember that I am meant for their father, and leave.

As if they would leave, when Samael sent them here to taunt me. No, they are here to abuse me, and break me further. Is this part of his plan? Does he think that there is some defiance left in me, after all? He would love to see that I fight them, wouldn’t he?

“Which reward will you give little Zoë for being right about Samael hiding something?” Gabriel asks.

 “I will think about something.” Her father sounds dismissive, and I watch him take a step deeper into my prison.

They haven’t changed apart from that they are six years older. They are still like twins. Michael is still the one making statements and Gabriel is still the one asking questions, even if they are rhetorical ones.

I still don’t move. I don’t even flinch. My body is lifeless. I feel defeated. So, my reaction wasn’t what Samael hoped for, or why did he send them?

Then my weary, saggy mind finally has processed Gabriel’s words. ‘… what we just found …’ Found.

My stomach is burning, and the acid slowly climbs up my throat as I realize that Samael has no idea his brothers are here. He didn’t send them. They found me, because of Zoë, because of his father knowing about the trap door.

Why?

It doesn’t matter.

They are here now. They are here and are looking at me. What am I supposed to do?

“Let’s see if he is just keeping her to himself, or actually training,” Michael states and walked up to me into the middle of the room.

My mind tried to catch up with his words.

“Anna,” Michael addresses me and instinctively, I look at him. “Get up.”

I obey before I think this through. Fighting won’t help any way. Instantly, I drop my hands to my side and look at the floor. I remember what Rowena told me that evening, before I pretended to go to bed.

‘Obey. Cast down your eyes. Do not speak unless you are talked to. Do not cover yourself, your body is not yours to hide.’ These words were so odd for me, but the way my mother… Rowena spoke them to me, digging her fingers into my shoulders, her stare, as if she was furious at me, burned them into my memory.

They weren’t Joshua, but they would love it if I treated them as they were.

“First things first,” Gabriel steps next to him, and inquires. “Are you still a virgin?”

Before I can answer Michael looks at his brother: “Why is that important?”

“Because that is what father will ask her,” Gabriel answers, slightly annoyed. “And if she declines, his next question will be who deflowered her and she will tell him who.”

“We’ll simply order her to tell him it was Samael,” Michael shrugs and I am happy that none of them are looking at me.

Joshua would be furious. The punishment would be out of this world. Like this, I could have justice for my grandparents.

“If he trained her well, she will not lie,” Gabriel argues and I am giddy about the fact that they talk about this while I am standing there.

They are so used to the women being mindless, they don’t even think about the fact that they are giving me information I can use. I might not be so broken after all. Yet.

“Anna, are you still a virgin?” Michael now asks me, defeated.

“Yes, brother,” I answer and quickly add the title, hoping that it might help me and cause a reaction that will make him decide against doing anything to or with me.

Of course, it doesn’t. I can see him frown first and then smile through my veil of hair.

“Shame,” he comments. “I would have enjoyed my sister’s cunt.”

Despite my best efforts, I shudder but they do not notice, because they both start laughing, deeply, and loudly, from their stomachs.

“You want her ass anyway,” Gabriel responds, “or have you changed in the last minutes? I am the one who has to op for her mouth now.”

At least, I now know what to expect.

I am dry as a desert. This is going to hurt.

“I always wanted to do this,” Michael speaks and turns towards me again. “Shame, that she is this old now.”

“True,” Gabriel agrees. “But we would never had gotten a chance like today. Maybe she will even like it and chose one of us to give her ‘light.’ Samael will not be the one to do that once we have told Father that he killed his precious Rowena.”

I flinch. There goes my chance for revenge. But is my reaction just because of that.

“Do you like your captor?” Michael asks.

He saw it.

I hesitate.

He opens his mouth to say something. I quickly answer: “No, I do not, brother.”

Michael and Gabriel look at each other and start laughing again.

“Do you like any of us, sister?” Gabriel inquires.

“No, brother,” I answer honestly, and they both stop dead.

I try not to tremble. I should have lied, but I can’t.

“He did a good work on her after all,” Michael states, displeased. “What about father?”

“I am meant to be his, therefore, I must love him,” I answer the truth, I answer correctly, and I don’t lose a word that I despise the man and will kill him the second I have a chance, no matter the consequences.

Joshua is the source of everything, of every evil thing that has ever happened to me. He broke Sam. He turned his own son into a monster. Not only Sam, but all of them. They are all evil, down to the core, not even their children are innocent.

If there is really a God, and these people are his righteous children, I am going to worship the Devil instead. May he give me the power to destroy them.

They don’t comment on what I have said.

Silence has always been agreement, why should it be any different now, especially, since they continue to approach me.