Deliverance from Evil

by Michael Cross

  I looked at her, wondering who she had been, and then, as if he were reading my mind he asked, “Want to know something about her? Yeah, you do. Stupid girl answered a personal I put in an alternative newspaper. Seems she was curious as to what it would be like to meet a housewife who was also curious, about, well you get the picture. Trusting sort, met up with my wife at a café and I took care of the rest once they arrived at the isolated hotel. You know, she had only woken up from her sedative a few hours before you arrived. Little thing was out for almost two days!”

  He then ordered me to finish cleaning up the blood. I did so, fearing what he could do next. He stood there, observing me, and then out of nowhere I felt a kick to my ribs that hurled me against the wall. “You call this clean? You filthy little…” He went into a tirade of obscenities and waved his machete wildly in the air. I quickly tried to clean everything to his satisfaction. He stopped screaming and said, “That’s better…wait a second.” And he opened the door and went out a brief second, returning with another t-shirt. “Hand me those clothes and put this on.” His voice now sounded almost kindly. He even stooped over and touched my cheek in an affectionate manner before he got up, left the room and locked the door. He turned out the lights and left me alone with the young woman still on the floor. I screamed out for him to at least retrieve the body but it was in vain. I sat in the corner, wondering what was next.

  After maybe thirty minutes the light came back on and Vincent came into the room. He did not say anything – he just took the body by the feet and dragged it away. This time he left the light on at least. Shortly after I heard him lock the door, and I could hear the sound of the woman’s head hit each plank on the stairs as he pulled her up. I thought to myself that had she been a better fighter I might be the one in her place now. I really did not believe him that this had not been meant to be a fight to the death...well, I mostly did not believe him. Part of me wondered if maybe I had been responsible for taking her life for nothing.

  My face still stung from the fight as well as his abuse. Soon, the door opened and his wife came in carrying a washcloth and basin. She said, “Hello, my name is Bethany, by the way.” She then looked at me and smiled, but then she started to cry. She asked, “What year were you born?” I told her – she appeared really happy for some reason. Then she came over and started to apply the cloth to my wounds and said something really odd, “Remember when you fell off the swing just after your fourth birthday party? You were so scared but I was able to re-assure you with the help of your teddy bear? I will bring him down later – I did not throw him away.” I wondered what was going on – did she seriously believe I was her daughter or was she playing some mind game? Then she did something really odd; she touched my lip with her finger. When she pulled back I could see blood on the tip and then she put her finger in her mouth and said, “You taste really sweet. That’s all the better! Thank you for coming back to me Jennifer.” I looked at her, puzzled, and then she said, “You must be hungry…I will see if your father will let me get you something to eat, okay? And don’t worry…he will make sure that girl who was picking on you doesn’t cause you any more trouble.”

  She leaned over and kissed my forehead before she got up and left. I rested on the cold floor curled up, shivering from the cold and the trauma of the day. I was starving and thirsty, I had almost died and I was locked up somewhere in the middle of nowhere. I still was able to wonder what Matt was doing right then. This day must have been so difficult for him – did he figure out that I really had not left him? And what of Nicole, did she know yet? I hoped she could put things together and that maybe they could combine their talents to find me.

  As I thought of the life that I had been pulled away from I began to cry. I was scared and so very sad. However, I was so exhausted that I soon passed out – getting what would become a rare opportunity to rest.

  Chapter 5

  I have no idea of how long I slept but I was awoken by Vincent opening the door. He came over to me and knelt down, “Melanie, or should I say, Jennifer? Yeah, it may sound funny but you better get used to it.” I asked, not wanting to antagonize him, “Why does she call me Jennifer? Does she believe that I…”He abruptly slapped me and then pinned me against the wall with his large, rough hands grasping my neck to the point I could not breathe, “If you want to live then you better not hurt her feelings, understand? If you so much as make her feel sad I will do things to you that you will pray that you die right then and there – but you won’t, you understand how it works now?” I gasped for enough air to say, “Yes!”

  He laughed, “Good, I need to bring in a few things – you stay right there and don’t move. Understand…Jennifer?” I nodded, terrified. He then brought in a plate with what appeared to be some pork as well as some rice. He also gave me a cup. I asked, “Can I at least get something to drink?” In response he pointed at the toilet. I was totally disgusted at his humor until I realized he was not joking! I almost gagged at the thought but chose not to say anything…just hoped he would bring in something to drink.

  He stepped out for a moment and brought in a large hospital gurney, not a modern-looking one, but rather something like from the 1950s. He smugly looked around and said, “There, all the comforts of home. Just missing one thing though – you like music?” I looked at him in total helplessness and shrugged my shoulders. He said, “I have a wonderful selection to put on once I leave. Hope you like it…if you don’t, I suppose you eventually will get used to it.” He also said, “I have a few treats for you but you must cooperate and then you will get them later.” He walked over to the door and then stopped, and thrust himself towards me with his hand in a hitting position, but then he stopped as I huddled myself in the corner awaiting his assault. Laughing that horrid, evil laugh that I was beginning to associate with pain, he said, “You are a quick learner. Maybe you have potential after all!” He then left and locked the door behind him.

  I sat there eating the food he brought, hoping to God that it was indeed pork, and then got up and approached the toilet. I looked at it, the rust, the thought of filth and disease but I realized I needed water – especially since the rice had been spiced with some curry sauce. I figured he was not coming back in so, holding back disgust, and the feeling of nausea that was developing, I flushed it several times before inserting the cup to the side and trying to fill it without dipping it into the pool of water. I feared what germs might be in the water, especially since my lips were swollen, and the wounds still were leaking some blood into my mouth. Yet I had not had anything to drink since before being kidnapped, and I was severely dehydrated. I put all my feelings of revulsion aside and quickly drank the disgusting water.

  Soon, music started playing through some intercoms in the ceiling. It was country music, not the mixed rock and country that was popular with many people, but the older variety. I hated the twang and the lyrics but there was nothing I could do. The volume was high, not deafening, but certainly not at a comfortable level – almost as loud as what one would hear at a dance I guessed. I hoped it would stop soon, but it did not – it just kept going on and on.

  The room had nothing in it really. There was a door, besides the entrance, but it was padlocked. I wondered what was in there. The floor was concrete and covered in white linoleum as were the walls. There were a few electrical cords exposed on the ceiling but other than that nothing, not even a spider’s web. It was sterile, cold, and I hated how cold my feet felt, but there was nothing I could do about it.

  I sat down on the bed and even that was cold on my exposed legs. I tried to get comfortable but the only position I could find was curled up. I tried to think but the blasted noise made it almost impossible; and when I tried to see if I could sleep I could not do that either. I thought to myself that I had never been so uncomfortable and that nothing could be worse than this but I would be proven wrong in a little while.

  In what I interpreted to be two, maybe three hours the volume on the music decreased. I loo
ked up and noticed the door was being opened and Vincent came into the room. He made a gesture of a hand going across his throat and then pointed at me. I wondered if it was time to die and I felt my heart stop. Then his wife came in carrying what appeared to be one of those small picnic coolers. She came over to me as Vincent brought in a stool for her to sit on. She smiled and took my hand, “Jenny, you are cold, I will see about getting you some clothes later. I so look forward to shopping with you again, you still like to shop?” I looked over at Vincent and he maintained a stern glare. I think I knew what that meant. I replied, “Sure, I like to shop – what do you have in mind?” She smiled and looked at my wounds, “I think you need some new things but you can’t go out looking like that. Maybe soon you will be ready.”

  She then looked at me in the eyes in what appeared to be a blank stare. Then she closed her eyes for a moment. I had seen these mannerisms before, she seemed to have some sort of schizophrenia, a mild form perhaps, but she apparently believed I was her daughter after all! Maybe it was best to play along since Vincent seemed to relish beating me – and I did not want to discover what else he had in mind. I asked Bethany what she liked to do and she enthusiastically replied, “After you left I spent a lot of time getting better at horseback riding. The open prairie…there is nothing to compare.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a toy horse, “I remember how much you loved this doll so I talked with your dad and he said I could give it back to you.” I thanked her but then she said something really weird, “Do you believe in sacraments?” I thought about the meeting at church so I asked, “You mean where you drink in symbolic union with Jesus?” She excitedly nodded and then said, “There is nothing that is more bonding that taking in a living part of another person. Don’t you agree Jennifer?” I hoped this was not going to lead to some cannibalistic ritual but I reluctantly nodded and said, “Yeah, I think so...I think.”

  Then she said, “I am so happy! Now it is time for us to really connect to know each other again!” She then pulled out a cord and an IV needle and sat it in her lap. I looked at the needle in dread but she then asked me to sit back. I slowly did as she said and she scooted her stool closer to me. She then started caressing my right arm and then my cheeks. She was humming what I thought was a nursery rhyme and asked me to relax. The last thing I could do was relax! She did this for about five minutes and then she asked me to hold my arm still. Vincent was looking at me, again giving me the warning gesture, and so I complied as she tied a cord around my arm. Bethany commented, “Now there is a healthy vein. Let me see, there!” She pushed the needle into my arm and I gripped my hands to offset the pain. “Okay Jennifer, let me take this off now. You are being such a good girl.” I looked down and saw the tube turn red as my blood started flowing through it and trickling into a glass flask on the floor. I looked up at Bethany in desperation and seeking some sort of comfort. I grabbed her upper arm and she smiled, “It is okay my dear.” She took my hand and I held onto hers tightly, but gently.

  I could not help but squirm in agony as the flask filled. She gently caressed my hair with the other hand but then stopped, looked at the flask, and said, “You know, maybe this is enough for today” and then she proceeded to pull the needle out of my arm and asked me to press on the wound. She put the tubing away and then put a bandage on the insertion point. Then she did something that even Vincent seemed to find a bit uncomfortable to watch, as he looked to the side. She took up the flask, which must have had maybe a half pint of blood and put it to her lips and drank the red liquid! I was horrified but remained calm on the outside. She commented, “It tastes best when it is still warm, and besides, if you wait too long it coagulates. That does not matter though, the important thing is now I have taken of your body, and we have a special bond.” She smiled again and then closed her eyes, and hummed the song a little more.

  When she was done she asked if I might like to talk later. I said, “I suppose that would be nice.” She smiled and kissed my forehead, “I can talk with dad and see if he can bring you those treats now.” As she stood up and left the room Vincent came over to me and nodded approvingly, “You did real good Jennifer. Now don’t go away!” He left for a moment and came back in with a paper bag. He took out a large carton of cigarettes and some plastic bottles filled with something. I wondered what this was all about – I did not smoke, but I did not say anything as he pulled out some matches and tossed them on the floor. The last thing he took out was some beef jerky and before he left he commented, “You need to eat and drink so your body will replace the blood.” And then he just left.

  I was now shivering even more than before – I felt nauseous, and my arm was throbbing in pain. I felt so violated. The beatings, being forced to kill an innocent girl and the deprivation were horrific enough but having someone drain blood from me, and drink it right there, was beyond what even I could tolerate! I started shaking even more now, and I could feel a cold sweat all over my body – was I going into shock? All I wanted to do was to go to sleep, and since the music had been turned down I started drifting away. However, just as I was starting to dose off, thinking about a documentary on some educational channel I had once seen about people with blood fetishes, and even one murderer who drank the blood of his victims until they died, the music came back on as loud as it had been!

  I started to cry in frustration. I felt helpless, alone and was beginning to give up on ever getting out and seeing my family again. I curled up on the bed, trying to pull my shirt over my head to drown out the noise but that only left me colder as my body was then exposed. This was absolutely insane! I then sat up and looked at the food and other items he brought me. I opened up one of the bottles and the smell was unmistakably of beer. I cried again in frustration. I was hungry so I tore off some jerky and tasted it – it was good but really spicy. I had to eat it though – I was starving.

  I looked at the toilet and then the bottles of beer. I absolutely did not want to touch either one but I had to make a choice. I then poured out some of the beer in my cup and drank it – it was disgusting but the other alternative was worse. I was so thirsty I finished off one, then another. I felt calmer and sat back in the chair. The beer seemed to numb some of my physical pain, and maybe the psychological trauma as well. I got back up and finished another bottle. I soon dosed off.

  I awoke a while later – kind of in that lucid dream state where you are sort of awake and asleep at the same time. It felt as if maybe this whole experience had been a horrible nightmare, and all I had to do was wake up from it and be back home, safe with my husband and children, or with Nicole. As I became more awake I realized it was not a nightmare – well, it was a nightmare but a real one. I sat there, wondering if I would ever see my loved ones again.

  There I was, curled up with my head between my knees and just staring, hours of staring, trying to think but my mind was increasingly fuzzy...concentration blurred by my isolation, alcohol and pain. I tried to hold thoughts of pleasant memories with Matt, Nicole and my children but it was taking all my mental strength to hold any thought for more than a brief moment. I even tried to form a mental image of Nicole but it was so difficult that if my mind could process a picture the picture would come out blurred. What was happening to me? I of all people should be able to maintain my mental faculties. Yet I could feel myself becoming weak – and to the best of my mental calculations I had maybe only been here a few days. What would happen to me in the future? Could I resist my mind’s deterioration?

  After a few more hours the volume of the music decreased again and I could hear a banging on the door. Vincent entered and motioned for me to get over to the bed. He came over with a sack and put more bottles of beer on the floor. He laughed and asked if I liked it. I told him I did and thanked him. He gave me his smug look and then said, “Very good Jennifer. In a minute Bethany is coming in and I will leave you two alone. I can trust you, right? If you do anything to hurt her…well, you have heard of Vlad The Impaler, correct? I will ram a pole rig
ht through you and stick you up like a scarecrow in the back yard, and I read how he did it so it won’t kill you. So don’t try anything, understand?” I nodded in compliance and he took out a candy bar from his pocket. He handed it to me and I thanked him – but the scary thing was that I could feel gratitude for his “kindness.” What was happening to me?

  Bethany then came in with her kit. I knew what was going to happen but I was also aware there was nothing I could do. I sat down and held out my arm. She started doing the same procedure as the last time, but this time, before inserting the needle, she asked me if I had ever experienced being picked on in school. I was puzzled by her question. I said I had been and she put the needle down and asked, in a gentle voice brimming over in sincerity, “Tell me about it Jennifer:” I started talking, maybe out of nervousness, or trying to keep her there longer so I could have human contact. I could see a tear in her eye as I was relating my childhood memories. She caressed me and let me go on and on – no interruptions, just her wiping occasional tears from her eyes.

  She then, in the middle of my relating my memories to her, asked if I could continue as she started the procedure of taking blood. I nervously nodded, although the thought scared me as she prepared to put the needle in my other arm. Perhaps I trusted her, or I figured I had survived the last time. The needle went in and soon I could hear the splash of my blood trickling into the flask, but she caressed me and in a soft voice asked me to continue with disclosing my past. When I resumed telling of my childhood she leaned over and kissed my forehead and said she was proud of me. I am not sure what was going on in my mind at that moment except confusion. She whispered in my ear, “You are safe now my child, I will make sure those people on the outside world won’t hurt you anymore.”

  She then took the needle out, sipped a little of the blood, but this time she did not leave immediately. She held my hand and said, “Jennifer, you are trembling, are you cold?” I said I was and she sighed, “Here, try some of these.” She took out a cigarette and handed it to me. I said I did not smoke but then she said the strangest thing, “Nonsense, you have been given the chance to start a new life, so let yourself try new things as well.” She lit a cigarette, continued taking sips of my blood, and then motioned for me to let her light the one in my hand. I complied and looked at the item I had always seen with disgust. Yet with her encouragement I put it in my mouth and sucked the smoke in. It was strange, I thought I would cough but I did not. It felt warm as I filled my lungs with the smoke. Bethany finished her drink, held my hand and asked if I liked it. For some strange reason I actually found comfort in it and smiled, “Yes, I actually do like it!” She asked me to continue talking as we smoked together.