೦ Anna ೦

 

“Rachel …” whoever this man is who is speaking my false name with reproach and pity.

He has a deep, yet slightly hoarse, yet intimidating male voice.

It is familiar. It makes me shudder in the worst way. He clicks his tongue.

I can hear him walk slowly around me. I can feel his eyes on me like rays of heat. He’s dragging his feet across the floor, shuffling, so that I can hear where he is. He’s drawing in my attention to his movements and making him the center of all I am.

I feel annoyance grow inside my chest.

Why did he blindfold me?

Does he think me stupid?

Of course, I know there are just a handful of people who would dare to do this to me, who would have the patience to wait six years.

Six years.

I hate all of Joshua’s flock with a fiery passion. How ironic. Since they have burned everything that ever mattered to me to the ground, or shot him.

Sam. My Sam gives me strength. I can feel him wrap his arms around me protectively; warming me.

 Something about him, my captor, my dungeon master, gives me goosebumps, frightens me, despite my iron defiance, and makes my heartbeat race faster than it ever has.

Not even during my nightmares.

No, only once, a long time ago.

Something is wrong.

“You must have realized by now that I have drugged you,” my captor speaks slowly, making a pause, so that my juggled senses can follow him.

He sounds irritatingly arrogant, or like it is a fact to him that I’m at his mercy, that there is no one coming to save me, and that I won’t be able to escape.

“See, I cannot have you acting rebellious. I have some other business to tend to.” He stops, making one single step towards me – I can sense it. “Like getting rid of your car.”

I freeze. Instantly tears dwell in my eyes as I think of my beloved little red VW, the only thing I have left of my grandparents. The thought alone that it could be destroyed, crushed into a dice of metal, makes a sob break from my chest.

Before I’ve been shipped off to boarding school, I had placed the little red VW at a garage and paid every cent I got left to have it stored until I came back. The thought of losing it, after I managed to save it, brings stinging tears to my eyes.

Not my little car.

Not my little treasure.

I feel panic, inhaling desperately, as I think of it being sold or worse, demolished. I want to beg for it to not be destroyed, plead for this rusty, rattily excuse of a vehicle to be spared. My little red VW.

“Does this pile of trash mean so much to you, Rachel?”

Another step towards her. I can feel my skin tickle, my heart taking a faster and painful pace. But it’s not fear. It’s anger, born out of helplessness.

Rachel.

Only Joshua’s people called me by this name that. Hearing me being called by that name is freezing the blood in my veins. And yet, I’m not surprised to hear it, still it seems to suck strength from my very soul knowing my worst nightmare is about to come true. Yet that name sounds so utterly wrong coming from that man’s throat.

“There is nothing bad about confiding in your big brother, Rachel?” He is so close now that can feel his breath on my bare skin.

Sam?

I tense when he approaches me, he, who claims to be my brother. No, this guy is playing tricks on me. Sam would never do this to me. He’s just trying to trick and to break me. No, this is either Michael or Gabriel trying to make me cave by pretending to be their dead younger brother.

Which one it is, I have no idea, and I don’t care. Six years has been a long time and I’ve forgotten how those voices of Joshua’s sons sounded like. Probably, because I’ve avoided them all the time, staying close to Sam, while I was confined within the borders of the church’s property.

My Sam…

As much as I want to deny it, I must face the fact that he is dead while I am not. Sam would never do this to me, he would have done everything in his power to stop this from happening. It only means that he is dead. Truly dead.

Gone.

Forever.

Tears dwell in my eyes about the fact that I have always hoped to meet him again.

Sam. My Sam.

Ignoring the image that has been etched into my mind: him lying on the ground, face down, and shot by his own father.

I’ve saved myself for him, even though I know that there’s no chance in hell that I’d ever see him again. But hope is a cruel thing. It makes you cling to a dream, makes you believe that the impossible can be possible, just so that it can betray you.

The breath on my skin is undeniable now, as Michael or Gabriel steps closer.

I try to retreat, instinctively, although I can barely move. I’m being forced to stay put where I am, since my body has now been pulled up in a way that I can stand somewhat comfortably, but only as long as I do not move away. As soon as I try to, I instantly feel this ache in my shoulders again. Now, I know what that sound of rattling chains really had been about. The man lessened the strain on my wrists.

I need to try and figure out which son of Joshua’s this one is, because I remember the preferences of either Michael and Gabriel, so that maybe I can find a way to talk myself out of this. I know chances are slim, but I’ve promised to myself, my grandparents, and Sam to never give up fighting, because you don’t need hope when you have defiance in you.

And yet, a part of me is clinging to this idiotic idea that Sam is still alive. That he just couldn’t prevent this for a very understandable reason. Maybe they locked him away, maybe, he’s chained up just like me, being tortured by his father, but alive.

I can feel my captor now, hovering over me. His breath rolling down my skin in hot and moving in intoxicating waves. I blame this sensation on my clouded senses and whatever drug is still coursing through my system. Why else would my treacherous body mistake disgust with arousal?

“You are even more beautiful than I remember,” the man whispers, leaning into my face so that I can sense the warmth radiating from his body onto mine; his nose brushes against mine, as he exhales: “Anna.”

Hearing the name my grandparents gave me strikes through my body like lightning, racing through my blood, electrifying my bones, boiling my insides. I’m being broken, melted, choked. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t believe. There’s only one member of that sect who would ever call me that.

“S…Sam?”

 

⌽ Samael ⌽

 

Six years of patience, six years of torture, six years of planning, waiting, acting, watching, studying, lurking in the shadows finally have come to fruition.

I have found her.

I have captured her.

I have taken her.

She is right in front of me.

Finally, I can atone for my sins, my betrayal, my faithlessness. The only thing that I have not reckoned with was that she would bewitch me, once again. That she would tempt me again by nothing more than her looks, her voice, her scent.

It brings back memories I have fought to forget for so long. It brings them back in an instant. I should have known that this could happen. Pride is a capital sin. It made me fail once. I cannot allow it to mislead me again. It was pride that made me believe all my prayers and exercises would make me immune to her allure. I should have known.

It had been so easy, too easy. 

She had served herself on a silver platter. Driving her old car, requesting her grandparent’s file. Leading me straight to her.

Anna isn’t that stupid, is she?

Had she wanted to be caught?

Or was she so sure of herself that she could seduce and use me again?

But for what goal?

What if all of this is another test of my faith? Of my determination to serve God, my father, my family, and my church?

Now, Anna is dangling there, right in front of me, helpless and exposed, it makes me feel as if I am the one who is captured.

It does not matter that her arms are chained above her head, just high enough so that she can reach the ground with her feet, or that her beautiful green eyes are blindfolded. Her loose, caramel-colored hair hangs in disarray, but still smells of strawberries and honey. She makes me feel like a starved dog with a steak dangling in front of me. The only difference is that this hunger of mine is of a different kind, a forbidden kind. It is so terribly torturous to withstand her allure. This fake innocence she oozes. These lush, perky lips of hers have only grown even more seductive. My father is right. Anna is the embodiment of sin and she has brought me down once already. I will not allow her to bring me down a second time.

But I must not forget that this is not entirely her doing. Rowena explained this to me. God had given her daughter to her by God to be put in my path and test me. This is how I know that Anna is not beyond saving. I can still make her Rachel, just as I should have done all those years ago, and bring her ‘home.’

Still, all I want to do at this very moment, is what I have secretly desired to do. Six years ago. And in my dreams, when the Devil takes away all my discipline and restraint, and turns me into a slave of my third cardinal sin. Just like two gifts I must have two sins, but I have told no one about the third sin, about the lust hiding within me.

Because these dreams. These dreams are always about Anna. They are never about anyone else. Not even Rowena.

I hope and pray that, once I have turned Anna into Rachel, I will be able to keep my second sin in check, just like I do with pride.

My mouth lingers close to hers, feeling the gravity that seems to become even more powerful around her. Her scent begins to cloud my senses and the need to taste her lips grows unbearable. I must show restraint. This is a test of my resolve.

This is all but a dream to me, a dream come true. Finally, my father will be proud of me. Especially, after I have returned the defiant, treacherous girl that had made me sin so unforgivably, to his herd.

But I will not present Anna to him, but Rachel. She will be falling to her knees, and begging my father for forgiveness, beg him to take her back. My father would finally accept me as his worthy third son, my failure redeemed and my mother’s murder forgiven.

I am determined to not give in to the pull of hers. But then, right at that moment that I seem to have regained control, my thoughts escape from me, and I call her by the name I should not use: “Anna.”

Witch.

Temptress.

Embodiment of sin.

I can call her anything but Anna.

But I did and she heard it. I can sense it. Hearing her calling me by the name she gave to me all those years ago, weakens me. It weakens my resolve, my determination, the anger inside myself that fuels me and that makes me yearn for revenge, makes me want to torture her, discipline her.

Wrath is my second sin, but it manifested only after Anna left me behind, which is why Rowena’s words about her daughter being my test must be true. I always thought that lust was my second sin, but it never ran in my family, and it is not God-given. It is the Devil’s curse.

Anna’s voice, the sound of it as she is saying that blasphemous abbreviation of my name draws from my energy. Literally. My knees weaken, my breath is stuck in my throat, and my heart starts pounding.

I can pretend that it is my body fighting her magic, but I know better. There is no magic, only sin.

I should hit her for daring to violate my holy name like that, but I cannot do it. It is not because she sounds so innocent, so pure, so pristine, like the girl I used to be so protective of, like the girl that turned out to be a snake, using me, only to get her freedom. It was the fact that she has recognized me. Wrath has been my only true companion, like a candle in the darkness, and she snuffed it out.

As much as my mind urged me to hit her, to punish her, as much as my hands flex into fists; I just cannot do it.

“Sam!” Anna whimpers, sniveling. “You… you’re alive! Oh, my God, Sam!”

Her voice, it is pleading with me, begging me to wrap my arms around her, soothe her, comfort her, but I cannot move. I know I cannot trust this demon. She is my personal trial, my personal temptation, my ultimate sin. I cannot give in to her a second time.

I must stay strong and break her hold on me. Only then can I exorcize the seed of sin from her. Just as my father would want me to, like her mother begged me to.

Anna is leaning towards me as far as her restraints allow her to, and it is hurting herself by doing that. I gather that from the sounds she makes. These sounds give me goosebumps.

Such a beautiful sound. Her whimpering.

And she makes these sounds for me.

Just like that, her gravity multiplies. I am drawn to her. My body wants hers. It wants me to sin, to break the rules. A part of me stirs and awakens that is not supposed to have a will of its own. That part of me is a weapon, a tool of punishment, and not of pleasure. And, even worse: I am wide awake, and not dreaming, not just waking from a forbidden dream of mine.

Her face is showing despair and confusion. This does not make sense. It must be an act. I have made it too easy for her to remember me and now Anna is using everything to get out of here, of course.

Sly vixen.

Anna does not care about me. She never did. She had left me behind and forgot about me. No letters, no phone calls, nothing. Not one single attempt to contact me. I waited an entire year to hear from her.

Nothing. Not a thing.

I had endured everything my father and brothers rained down on me. It had all been in vain.

And then my father explained to me that the Lord could forgive my sins, if I would not only return his wayward daughter, but also make her atone for what she had done, and teach her how to be an obedient child of God. By all means necessary, but pristine.

I had been ready to do anything to accomplish that, but Anna had not been at home, which had been something I had not expected. How could they allow Anna to go out there into that filthy world without a protector at an age so young as sixteen? At first, all I had wanted was to keep them captured, so that they could not try to overcome me. It had not been my intention to harm them. But as they tried to talk me out of my mission, and asked for my forgiveness for being left behind, wrath took me over like a demon.

It’s because they couldn’t shut up, they had to talk to me, to tell me lies, to make me break, but I would not allow them to.

‘This is not the Sam Anna told me about,’ her grandmother said. ‘She wouldn’t want you to do this. You don’t need to do this. You can stay with us.’ I stuffed the cloth into that woman’s mouth to stop her from talking, from trying to deceive me. At first, I didn’t notice that I pushed the cloth in far too deep for her to be able to get enough air. Instead of that woman, I should have shut him up first. Because the words he spoke were sent by the devil himself.

‘You need to stop this, son,’ her grandfather said. ‘Let us go, and we will help you find a new home, far away from that family of yours.’

He wanted to get me out of the way.

‘This obsession is unhealthy, son,’ he added. ‘You must know that.’ I had no idea how he knew about that secret sin of mine, only the Devil could have told him. ‘Anna so much younger than you, Sam, only sixteen now,’ he just would not stop. ‘You must understand that. Anna is too young to understand, she doesn’t know what she is writing.’

It was what made me snap. She had written to me, or had she written into a diary? I know now that she does not have a journal. She is smart enough now to keep her secrets just in her head.

As I realized what I was doing he was dead already and his wife was heaving and sobbing, shaking her head in denial. I told her that I was sorry. So, so sorry. But it was already too late, and I could not let her live to tell Anna what had happened. So, I kneeled in front of her, and pulled the cloth out of her mouth, so that she could pray with me. And after we were finished, I shot her. I gave her a merciful death.

That night, I understood that I truly was Samael incarnate, like my father prophesized.

I turned on the stove and put the cloth on top of it so it would burn. And I waited until it did. I said a prayer for those two lost souls, and then I had to go.

I know now that I should have had more restraint, should have prepared myself with more humility, because the last thing I had thought about that night was the possibility of Anna being put into witness protection. My father had not told me that the Feds were monitoring our church at the time, that they would assume that this deed had been done by men from my father’s flock.

But I have learned my lesson and this time I prepared myself and planned meticulously. I had six years to prepare for this moment, to make sure I am ready for every possibility. I will not let her lead me astray this time. I will withstand every temptation, every sinful thought and impulse.

 I must make sure that once I return her to my father Rachel will be a perfect, obedient, god-fearing girl. She will be the girl she should have been all those years ago. And she would have been, if I had not been this embarrassingly weak.

Now, all these years of preparation and planning, envisioning what I will do to make Anna realize her wrongdoings, still did not prepare me for her looking like this, reacting like this.

It was my own fault. When I saw her in front of that precinct, I already became aware of the fact that she had become a woman. I should have known that having her close like that would influence me, as it always had. I expected that watching her live feed, that watching all the recordings would make me immune to her, but it did not.

Anna had been a pretty and joyful girl growing up, sweet and kind. She had been a little sister to me, and as we both grew older, and I began to experience these strange feelings she evoked in me, I tried to push them away. I should have known right then that it was to test me. 

No matter what I did, no matter what I do now, these dreams still haunt me, and if it is not one of my forbidden dreams it is a vision of what will happen to her if I do not save her. That is why I have a house of my own, my mother’s house.

When I look at her now, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, still. I have prepared myself for this by watching her, trying to give myself an overdose of her beauty and her voice, but all I have to do is close my eyes as I do just now, as she says her version of my name, and my carefully crafted walls are threatening to crumble.

I have not expected her to react like this. Not being afraid of me. Ignoring the entire weight of this situation: that it is me who has taken her, blindfolded her, chained her to the ceiling, stripped her of almost all her clothes. But she does not seem to care. Like she truly does not care about any of this, because she is so sincerely happy that I am there.

My fists are shaking and I hold my breath as I force my body to move away from her. She is still the embodiment of sin, and I will show her that this time I will not fall for her tricks.

“If you call me that one more time, Rachel, I will make you regret it.” I tell her icily.

The effect my words have on her are immediate. She straightens up, thus moving away from me, and her mouth opens in confusion.

These lips. I cannot tear my eyes from them. They tempt me, luring me closer. She is playing me. Her body is screaming out to mine, making me react in a way it is not supposed to.

I am not allowed to kiss her, or touch her in any way, without a higher purpose. As a chosen soldier of the Church, as a guardian, pleasure is a sin, anything that might threaten me to stray and be distracted from my path of righteousness and duty.

Originally, I was meant to become the commander of the guardians, to take over from my father. At least that was what he told me the night after Anna left. Exactly after a full twenty-four hours of punishment, as Anna’s mother Rowena was finally allowed to treat my shot wound.

It is now one of dozen gashes and wounds that have not healed without leaving an eternal mark on my body. I am lucky that I can still move my right arm and shoulder without limitations.

Thoughtlessly, I brush across the long scar that runs from my left eyebrow down to my ear. It was the first one of many I received during training with real swords, but it only adds to the positive effect I have on people. Ever since the day of Anna’s betrayal, my training became worse, or stricter, as my father would say. While the other boys are being forgiven after confession, prayer, several beatings, and the blessed session with the leader of their church, for the son of the leader, for me, there is no forgiveness. I am supposed to be better than all of them; than all of them combined.

My father blames my mother for my weakness, and he makes sure that I am always reminded that my mother had not been my father’s wife, but one of the girls he introduced to womanhood as it was the leader’s duty. My mother died giving birth to me. She was not even strong enough for that. This, my father reminds me of, too.

 Stepping back from Anna, I remind myself that teaching and disciplining her will be my last and final atonement. And with giving her to my father, as perfect as she needs to be, I can leave the past behind. We all will leave the past behind.

I must teach her what I have been taught the way I have been taught: experiencing pleasure is disgusting, forbidden, unless the Lord’s hand on earth – my father – grants it.

Anna has not answered.

Wrath boils inside of me like the fiery pits of hell. My hand snatches Anna’s throat, and squeezes it, not caring if I leave bruises. They will heal. And until then, the blue and purple color will look just beautiful on her pale skin. I push the voice in my head away, that whispers: ‘Because they are my marks on her.’

“Did I make myself clear?” I snarled at her.

Anna gasps for air as I ease my grip and she nods, as much as I allowed her to.

“What was that?” I yank at her neck.

This movement puts more strain on her shoulders, and I am aware of that, causing it on purpose.

“Yes, Sam…ael,” she answers hoarsely.

She is trembling and I can see how the blindfold is being soaked by her tears.

So, Anna is shocked and terrified, maybe even realizing what will be coming. But most importantly, it must dawn on her that I am not her pet to play with anymore.

“I will return you to the Lord’s arms,” I explain, letting go of her throat and she instantly inhaled deeply; he could feel her movement and pulse beneath his fingers, quickly pulling away. “By helping you atone for your sins and teaching you to be a proper servant of the Church of the Second reckoning.”

“What happened to you?” she almost interrupted him.

Again, his impulse was to smack her face, but his arm wouldn’t move. The teachings of the Church said that to beat a woman was just when it served a higher purpose. His father followed his teachings to the letter, being an example to his herd and when his father would order him to hit a woman, Samael would obey without hesitation. But his father wasn’t here, and it wouldn’t make Anna more obedient – at least that was what he told himself.