Scavenger Girl: Season of Toridia

by Jennifer Arntson

  Paralyzed with want and fear, I couldn’t move.

  Nik’s mouth came so close to mine, I felt his breath upon them. I closed my eyes and exhaled when his kiss touched my cheek. He confessed something hidden in the silence of our side of the glass, but what exactly, I did not know. Words weren’t necessary. I knew the essence of his thought, and it brought tears to my eyes.

  My alter stood waiting with his, both shaking their heads disapprovingly as Nik pulled away. They held hands, and my reflection led us out of the house through the servants’ entrance. Since she knew where she was going, we followed her. Being on this side of the glass felt similarly to observing someone else’s memories. We existed only as observers watching the actions of another. My reflection took on the role I played several days ago, while Nik’s went elsewhere.

  As promised, my mentor held tight to my hand as we watched the scene unfold before us.

  My alter hurried to Noran’s house and knocked on the servants’ door. After a few awkward moments waiting, she peered through a nearby window with her hands cupped around her temples and face pressed against the pane. Her knuckles rapped against the glass, to no avail. She returned to the servants’ entrance, taking a final glance around to confirm she was there alone. A vigorous push and pull of the doorknob slipped the latch. The door of the dark house inched open. Cautiously, my alter stepped onto the entry tile, stopping before her second footfall. Her twisted face turned to gasp at the outside air. She coughed, looking back into the house with disgust. Covering her nose with the collar of her shirt, she tried to enter again.

  We followed her.

  Noran’s house looked abandoned. Cobwebs covered in dust stretched across the corners of the kitchen along the ceiling. A pot with dried and crusted remnants sat haphazardly on the stove, and the sink housed stacks of dusty plates. My reflection ran her finger along the counter then wiped it off on her pants, leaving a gray streak against the dark fabric.

  Instead of going into the pantry where the spices were kept (oh right, I came here for spices), she walked through the kitchen and into the hallway. She tiptoed softly, snooping around the corners of various vacant rooms. We followed her halfway upstairs, but something made her stop. Sniffing the air, she retraced her steps down the stairs, passing directly through Nik and me.

  I grabbed my chest and looked up at Nik. He chuckled at my reaction. He squeezed my hand and led me downstairs after her. A wave of nausea washed over me, warning not to follow her farther. I dropped Nik’s hand. Despite his prompting me to continue, I protested. Holding my chin still, he softly kissed the space between my eyes, and my reluctance subsided. He laced his fingers with mine, and we proceeded into the next room. I didn’t want to see anymore. I couldn’t explain it, but a gnawing in the pit of my stomach warned me against following her. Nik, however, was determined to get to the bottom of whatever clouded my mind.

  We found my alter assessing the flickering light outlining a closed door under the stairs. It was similar to the door to the basement in Calish’s house. She slowly opened the door. She let go of her shirt and braced herself against the jamb as she retched. Spittle formed at the corners of her mouth, but that was all. She cleared her eyes and dried her lips before peering down the wooden staircase. She shouted something into the abyss, still struggling to control her stomach. Lifting her collar over her mouth and nose again, she descended the steps into the orange glow below.

  My heart beat so fast I found it hard to breathe. Nik put his arm around me and pulled me toward the basement door. He gave me a slight squeeze, kissed me on the temple, and nodded with an encouraging expression. His affection was not as potent that time, and I think he knew it. Together, we went down the stairs. We were in a closed hallway, lit by lanterns at the top and bottom of the stairwell. I held tightly onto the railing, noticing scratches gouged in the wood and tears finger width apart in the wallpaper. I slid my hand along them although confirmation seemed unnecessary. I tugged on Nik’s hand, and he nodded uncomfortably.

  At the first turn of the basement stairs, my reflection vomited while clutching the end of the stair railing. As we rounded the corner beside her, we learned why. Noran’s basement had been transformed into a torture suite. Like the Authority’s execution theater, rusted chains hung from the wall and implementation tools lined the walls. In the corners, iron cages stood empty, but the scratches on the flattened stone wall told us they weren’t always vacant.

  Everything in the room existed for a singular purpose: to trap a person for a prolonged period of time in a most excruciating way.

  Further in, a large wooden block-like table took center stage. Covered in dried blood or the like, the fixture had a butcher’s knife wedged into its top. The instrument stood vertically, the worn handle easily retrievable. My reflection touched the table and keeled over, shutting her eyes tightly. A movement in the room spooked her, and she seized the knife. Her hand trembled as she held it in front of her. Short and shallow breaths moved her across the basement to a curtain hanging at the far end. Three bloodstained sheets draped woefully between the foundation walls and the two columns supporting the main floor of the house.

  My alter hesitated several times but ultimately reached for the first of three fabric panels. With the knife held firmly in her hand, she gripped the fabric and tore it back. She stumbled back, letting the knife slip from her fingers.

  I screamed and buried my face in Nik’s chest. He kissed the top of my head, but whatever magic it had held didn’t work that time. I suddenly understood why I had been cleared. Nik didn’t have to explain that I had to relive the nightmare to defeat it. That was the reason we came.

  Remember, it’s real but in the past.

  With a deep breath, I refocused my energy and looked up at Nik. For all the things he had seen in the memories of others, I knew nothing compared to this. Terrified, he held me close with his eyes squeezed shut. In the beginning, his affection was given freely to support me. Now he needed me as much as I needed him.

  Time stopped until I found the strength to watch my alter. The nightmare would not end until I regained awareness of what I endured. I pulled from my mentor and committed to the task at hand.

  In the private alcove behind the first curtain hung a man stretched on a piece of equipment similar to an oversized loom. Circles and other religious symbols had been carved into the flesh of his torso. Some were crusted with deep black scabs, and several were inflamed with obvious infection. Yellow pustules freckled his markings while others wept a melded red and clear fluid from their edges. In his mouth, a wadded-up piece of cloth muffled his murmuring. I wasn’t convinced he would have the energy to expel it, but his captor held it in place with a scarf tied somewhere behind his neck. His hands were nailed into the frame of the loom and reinforced by scraps of canvas binding his wrists to its wooden corners. Long, crude spears protruded from the frame, piercing into his skin at the sides of his hips, chest, legs, and neck. A fork of some sort fixed to a necklace against his throat prevented his chin from lowering, but given the wounds on his shaven face, he’d suffered injury when passed out. Though he might be awake, he could no longer see. Someone removed his eyelids crudely, and his eyes turned foggy white from dehydration. Whoever had done this to him may have thirsted for pain but had no tolerance for excrement. The man’s genitals were stuffed into a river reed ending in a bucket on the floor in front of him. A second pail sat fixed from behind.

  My alter held her pregnant belly while bracing herself against the support column. When she vomited the little bit remaining in her stomach, she unwillingly reached for the middle of the three curtains. This one, she walked back slowly. The victim therein, a woman, hung suspended so intricately, she looked like an insect caught in the center of a spider’s web. A thousand fish hooks threaded under her skin and stretched out in all directions by fishing line coming from every angle. Her lips and eyes were sewn shut with black thread, and like the man next to her, she had two reeds affixed to collect her wa
ste.

  I held tight to Nik, who bit down intently on the first knuckle of his free hand. He kept me close while struggling to stay calm.

  Who are these people?

  How did they get here, and how did they end up like this?

  Noran didn’t do this all by himself. How could he?

  I tried to refocus but knew I couldn’t while gaping at the exhibits in the alcoves. I turned away, and Nik held me tightly. Because my alter remained, so must we. Facing the other direction, my eyes barely able to see over Nik’s shoulder, I saw a shadow lurking down the stairs.

  Just because I knew who lived in the house didn’t mean I was prepared to see him. Noran must have returned home and noticed the door to his chamber open.

  Panic surged through me. I tried to flee, but Nik grabbed hold of my wrist. He quickly saw the same scenario I did and mouthed, “This is the past. The past.” He moved us to a different area to watch the scene unfold.

  My alter, mortified by her discovery, hadn’t noticed he’d entered the basement. Noran carefully plucked a crossbow from the shadows and raised it to aim for her back. I tried to warn her, but she didn’t respond.

  Nik shook me. “You live.” I started to panic. He took my face in his hands and deliberately looked me in the eyes. He repeated himself in stark silence until I nodded in acceptance.

  Noran said something to my reflection, and she spun around. They had some short conversation, and he dared her to open the third curtain. She shook her head, and he shot an arrow through the hand of the suspended woman in response to her defiance. My alter screamed and collapsed to her knees, begging him to stop. He lowered his weapon and approached the cowering version of myself. Noran seized her by her hair and lifted her to face the third curtain. Sobbing, my reflection reached out and pulled it back. There, in a simple cage, lay a woman curled up in the corner of the darkness. Noran picked up a piece of cut pipe and banged on the metal door. My alter covered her ears, but the woman inside stood, pressing herself against the back wall of iron.

  Noran’s face changed. His anger faded, and an eerie calm washed over him. Snagging my alter by her wrist, he dragged her next to the large wooden block. He shoved her against the wall, smacking her head whilst doing so. While she checked herself for blood, he secured an iron collar around her throat to prevent her escape. I touched my neck, remembering the feel of its weight. My alter tugged wildly on the chain keeping her confined as he forced the captive woman out of her cage. She let him bring her to the table, although her stiff legs hindered her speed. He nearly had to drag her there. She didn’t fight him at all. Her blonde hair caked with dirt and mire hid most of her bruised face. Lifting her chin, he spoke a command, while smirking at my alter’s frantic state. Noran took a black robe off a hook on the wall and put it on, careful to clear the wrinkles from the fabric. The blonde removed her clothes and worshiped at his feet, kissing them and rubbing them with her hair. He lifted her by her hand, letting his hands move over her slender curves as she met his eyes. He brushed her rogue golden strands behind her shoulder, turning her to face my alter.

  “Kali!” I shouted silently. I tried to run to her, but Nik held me back.

  Missing all the character making her the woman I knew, she crawled up onto the table, sitting like a beauty bathing on the edge of the river. She positioned herself in the center of the piece, lay down on her back, and spread her arms and legs slightly as if she knew exactly what would please the Priest. Satisfied with her submission, Noran touched her body from the tip of her toes to the top of her head as he babbled about something passionately. Leaving Kali supine, he unwound a rope from a hook on the wall and handed it to my alter.

  I watched myself cry and shake her head, begging and pleading with him not to continue. My eyes followed the rope she held up to the ceiling. The end attached to a broad, flat object covered with rudely crafted spikes pointing toward the table and Kali. I hadn’t noticed the indentations in the wood until that very moment.

  When my reflection refused to release the contraption, Noran became irate. He reloaded the crossbow and pressed the tip to my alter’s chest. When she continued to refuse, he shot the man in the first alcove in the face. My alter’s legs gave out, and she hung limp by the neck.

  Noran marched to the man and yanked the arrow from his face, reloading the weapon. He threatened my reflection to pull the cord, but again, she refused. This time, he shot the suspended woman in the stomach. His victim screamed so loudly, the stitches tore through her lips, shredding the lower portion of her face. He shot her with every refusal my alter gave, until she held so many arrows in her body there was nowhere left to target.

  Nik flinched, holding me tighter. Although it was but a memory, he found it unbearable to watch. “I’m so sorry,” he mouthed, tears running over his face. I clutched his shirt with both hands, fearing he might leave me to finish this alone. I might have survived once, but I wasn’t sure I would again. His presence was the only hope I had of making it out of this basement.

  Noran, tired of waiting, stepped behind my alter and held her hand from behind, wrapping the rope around both of their outstretched arms. He licked her face, turning her mouth to his for a deep kiss as he pulled the rope. The spikes dropped at an alarming speed, and blood splattered in every direction in the room. Kali laid motionless under the weight of Noran’s device. He pushed my alter away and held his arms up in victory, pleased with his invention. Thick, hot blood ran off the table and pooled onto the concrete floor. It covered old bloodstains with evidence of new life lost. Fresh, red life of the woman who I once called friend covered everything in the room, including me.

  Noran released the collar around my alter’s neck, grabbed her hair, and pulled her up the stairs. He didn’t need to threaten her; she didn’t have the energy to fight. Once on the main floor, Noran held out his hand, and she froze like ice. A golden fog swirled around her and stayed with her as he tossed her into another neighbor’s yard, facedown in the dried, dead grass. Seeing no one around, he returned to his house without giving her a second glance.

  Nik, knowing we’d seen what we’d come to find, led me back to Calish’s house, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom. Holding me mournfully, he took my hand and reached out to the real version of us.

  Suddenly back in my bed, I gasped and turned into Nik, still sitting behind me. My head wasn’t hurting like before, but my guilt proved unbearable. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight as I wept into his chest.

  He signaled to get rid of the mirror and ignored Calish’s jealous glares as he tended to my grief and hid his own.

  “I killed her!”

  “No, you didn’t.” He stroked my hair. “I was there. It wasn’t your fault, Una.” He held me tighter. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  Chapter 8

  I woke up alone the next morning. While some might think it cruel to leave me in the room by myself, I was happy to not have to look at anyone. I didn’t want the questions. I didn’t want to relive any of the things I’d rediscovered in Noran’s basement. Making my way out of the luxurious bed of some unknown Citizen, I headed for their stolen washroom. I hated the feeling of my skin, the taste in my mouth, and the memories in my head. I wanted to be rid of all of it, permanently.

  I turned the shower on as hot as I could make it. I stood under its flow with my face tilted down so the water would hit the back of my head and run down the sides of my head to the center of my face. I turned the knob to increase the heat, except it wouldn’t go any farther. The water scalded my sunburnt skin; still, I didn’t care. I wanted every piece of me that existed in his basement to blister and peel away.

  I closed my eyes and saw Kali lying there.

  Grabbing the water knobs, I leaned up against the wall and hit my forehead into the natural tile. I was sure I was crying, because my tears were cold on my cheek compared to the water from the showerhead. Unable to stand, I slid down onto the floor. I hit the wall over and over and over with my hand. I
wanted to feel the pain. I wanted to feel something more than the torment of murdering an innocent person.

  There must be a feeling greater than that. There must be a way to overshadow it, make it seem less painful, if for a moment.

  I had to find it. I hit the stone surface over and over again. A small crack formed in the finely sliced rock, and I kept at it until blood ran from my knuckles and flowed into the shower pan, turning the protected floor red with evidence of my misery.

  Calish burst through the door. “Una, what are you doing?” He opened the shower door and turned off the water. The handle was so hot, he flicked his hand to cool it off.

  “I killed her.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my hand. “Mother!” He ran to the bedroom door and shouted for her again.

  “I’m coming,” she called back.

  “Hurry!” Calish yelled as he came back into the washroom. “Come on, my love.” He picked me up and carried me to a chair in the master room.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. She’s going on about killing someone.” Calish put another towel around my shoulders.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Nik peered through the bedroom door.

  “You! You get the fuck out of here!” Calish growled, pulling the towel closed in front of me.

  “Calish!” my mother chastised him.

  “She doesn’t need him,” he informed her. “She needs you.”

  “All right,” she said defensively. “Let me see your hand, little bird.” She took the towel off and examined the wound. “Sweetheart, what happened?” she asked while healing me.

  I shook my head, knowing I could offer no explanation. She’d never understand.