by C. R. Jane
We finally got to a back room that was bursting with people. I recognized many of them as being on the football team with him. Several of them came over to us and they exchanged those weird complicated high fives/manly hugs that guys seemed to like to do. They gave me curious hellos, many of them glancing over my figure appreciatively as they did so. I felt Dallin’s fingers tighten around my waist signaling a possessiveness that I didn’t think he was capable of.
There was an assortment of drinking games happening all around the room, and we quickly joined in a game of flip cup. I wasn't sure that I wanted Dallin drinking since he was my ride home, but to my relief he poured Sprite into our cups. No one said anything, just another sign of the status Dallin held with the team.
The night flew by. There were a multitude of beautiful girls in the room, many that I had seen hanging around the football team at school, but Dallin seemed to only have eyes for me. It made me wonder if Dallin could be a one-woman kind of guy after all, or if this was what he was always like on first dates, and that’s how he always ended up getting lucky. Regardless, I had fun, and when we finally left the party at around one AM, I didn't object when he pushed me gently against his SUV, encircling me with his arms until I was caged against the car. Then, he kissed me.
I had dreamed what kissing Dallin would be like, and although it wasn’t my first kiss, it definitely was the best one that I had ever had. In the moment however, it was still lacking that certain something. I always daydreamed about what a kiss with someone you were in love with would be like. And this was not it.
I wondered if there was something wrong with me, or if this was a signal that a relationship with Dallin wasn’t really what I wanted. Either way, when Dallin pulled away, he looked dreamily satisfied, placing one gentler kiss on my lips before releasing me.
There was an easy silence in the car on the way home. Dallin held my hand the entire time, sneaking glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking. He kissed me again when he walked me up to the door of my house.
“When can I see you next?” he asked gently, pushing the strands of hair off my face that had fallen into my eyes. I looked into his face. Moonlight was shining down on his usually golden features making him seem more mysterious than usual. There was something different in his gaze, something more. But I couldn’t tell exactly what it was.
My first instinct at his question was to ask him if he was sure, but I figured that wasn't the confident girl thing to do. “I'm free tomorrow,” I said with a gentle smile. His eyes lit up. He brushed one more kiss across my lips before walking backwards away from me as if he wanted to hold onto the sight of me.
“Text me as soon as you wake up,” he said with that same star-eyed look. I felt a little rush of butterflies at his eagerness but still trying to play it cool, I simply nodded and walked inside the house.
I ran up the stairway, feeling a little bit like I was walking on air as I did so. I opened the door to my room and gave a little shriek when I saw that my mother was sitting on my bed in the same place that she had been earlier.
“Mom?” I asked questioningly. At 19 years old, I didn't have a curfew. My mother in general had always thought that I was responsible and had treated me accordingly. We had the understanding that I was transitioning into becoming an adult, and for the most part she treated me like one.
Unlike before my date, my mother was no longer trying to hide the despair she seemed to be feeling. There was a look of true sorrow on her face and she was still holding the same piece of paper that she had been holding earlier.
“Come here, darling,” she said in a quiet voice that held the prospect of tears. I cautiously approached her. She patted the space on the bed next to her and I sat down beside her. I wanted to cry for some reason, just because I knew that whatever was about to come out of my mother's mouth would change my life forever. Was it cancer? Had something happened to my brother? My mind reeled with all the terrible things that she could say.
I never would've guessed the truth.
“We've never talked about our family history,” she began. I looked at her quizzically, thinking that “our family history” was the last thing that I expected to come out of her mouth. “A long time ago our family was gifted with an enormous responsibility by the Gods,” she said.
I looked at her like she was crazy. The Gods? We weren't a particularly religious family. My mom took us to Catholic mass once a year for Christmas, but she never seemed to be quite into it, and I'd always felt like a fish out of water there.
I opened my mouth to ask her more questions, but she shook her head. signaling that I should let her continue. “You remember studying the ancient Greeks gods in school?” she asked. I nodded, still unsure of where she was going with this.
“What if I told you they weren’t myths?” I was about to laugh, but the look on my mother’s face was so serious that it got caught in my throat. Was she sick? Maybe she was getting early dementia, and this was a sign.
She continued on in a voice that was increasingly distraught despite the fact that I’m sure the look on my face was one of disbelief. My anxiety grew as she began to give me a history of maiden sacrifices to the Gods. Why were we talking about sacrifices right now? Was I dreaming?
“The women in our family have frequently been required to be a part of the sacrifices,” she said quietly, the paper in her hand trembling at her words. "It has been asked of us for thousands of years. My mother was told by her mother who was told by her mother before that. I had begun to think maybe it was just a legend passed down the generations as nothing had been asked of us for the past hundred years.”
She stopped speaking for a moment as if the next words were more than she could bear to say. “I received a letter in the mail today,” she said in a distraught voice, holding out the paper in her hands for me to take. Whatever she was talking about, it didn’t sound like the honor she was saying it was. It sounded like death.
I hesitantly took the paper, still scared that my mother was losing it. It all sounded so fantastical.
Your service is required…. the letter began in elegant cursive. The stunning silver letters shined from the page, imprinting in my consciousness.
Everything disappeared after that.
Chapter 2
When I woke the next morning, I thought that perhaps it had all been a dream, a terrifying dream, but a dream, nonetheless. I needed to not read thrillers before bed apparently.
As I walked downstairs, I expected my mother to be in the kitchen cooking pancakes as she was most Saturday mornings before her shift at the local diner. But that was not the case. My mother was waiting for me at the foot of the stairs, tears in her eyes. She was standing next to one of my grandmother’s packing trunks, wringing her hands in a fancy black dress that she only wore at funerals. Evidently, I had not been dreaming.
“They will be here shortly to collect you,” she said sorrowfully.
“I'm 19 years old, I can’t just be shipped off somewhere,” I said indignantly, starting to get angry at how crazy my mother was acting. “If you didn’t want me in the house, you could have just told me,” I continued, unwilling to believe her story of what was about to happen.
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, a bright red lash mark appeared on my mother’s arm. She cried out in shock and pain. I watched in horror as what seemed like a hundred other lashes began to show up across her arms, her legs, and even her face. Her cries filled the room as I watched in horror. I have never seen anything like it, and I looked around the house frozen in terror, paranoid that it had suddenly become haunted. “It's the curse,” she gasped out as lashes continued to rake across her body. “It requires our acquiescence.” She screamed as another lash seemed to strike her across her back, sending her to her knees.
At that moment the doorbell rang. Mother slowly got off her knees and went to open the door.
“Mom,” I cried, finally able to move. I ran to try and get her to sit down but she continu
ed towards the door. “We need to get you to the doctor,” I said, momentarily relieved when it appeared that the lashes had ceased when the doorbell rang but horrified at the blood that was copiously dripping from her body.
The doorbell rang again as if the person waiting on the other side was in a hurry. She didn't answer me, instead she opened the door calmly as if she regularly looked like an extra in a horror film.
The door swung open. Standing there in the entryway was a tall, thin man who looked more like a relative of the Grim Reaper than a living person. He was dressed in a black suit, one that looked like it had come from a different age. The outfit came complete with a black top hat that sat on top of his liberally gray streaked hair.
“Is that the lady’s trunk?” he asked, gesturing towards where the trunk sat as if I had been expecting him and he wasn't a stranger standing at the door.
My mother didn't question his presence or ask him to identify himself. She merely nodded in assent. I began to feel lightheaded just then. This was really happening. I was really supposed to go somewhere with this man. I opened my mouth to object again and my Mother bowed over in pain as lashes began to appear again.
I choked on the tears that had begun to fall from my face. What could I do but go with this man for now? There was no one I loved more than my Mother in the world, and it was unbearable to me that she would get hurt. I had to go if it would stop what was happening.
No sooner had the thought cross my mind than the lashes ceased once again. Mother took a deep, unsteady breath and walked to the kitchen, coming back with a wet cloth that she began to use to wipe the blood off of her.
Everything seemed to be hazy after that. I walked to the door, and a glimmer of hope appeared on my mother’s face. She was relieved. I didn’t know how she could be relieved when she was sending her daughter off to allegedly be sacrificed, or at least sending her daughter off into the hands of crazy people. Weren’t mothers the ones that were supposed to sacrifice for your children?
Regret at my ugly thoughts filled my mind as she threw her arms around me. I could feel her blood soaking into my nightclothes. She had sacrificed for me repeatedly over the years. There had to be a reason for this now.
I was too numb and too shocked to give her a real hug back. I just prayed that someday I would understand what was happening, and why. The man was waiting impatiently outside the door, the trunk already put in the car. I reluctantly pulled away from her, trying to quell the heavy urge I had to beg her to save me.
The man gave me a small bow as I walked away from the safety of my childhood home, and then gestured to the car. I guess it was a car, it looked more like a limo. In this situation, it reminds me less of the limo people used for prom, and more like what the mafia or some other criminal mastermind used as their mode of transportation.
The inside of the vehicle was cool and dark. I slid across the leather seat; aware this was the first time that I had been surrounded by such a luxury. Although I wasn't buying the whole ancient Greek god story, whatever my mother had found herself involved in, it appeared that they had money.
There was a screen that separated the back of the limo from the front where the driver sat, but the driver helpfully moved the screen down so that I could see him. Despite the fact that he looked like the living embodiment of death, I was glad not to be alone.
“What's your name?” I asked. There was a short pause before he answered, as if he was debating whether he was supposed to tell me.
“Charon,” he finally answered.
I recognized the Greek name from my studies, and tried to remember what myth his name was involved in.
Finally, it came to me. Charon. He was the guy who had ferried spirits across the River Styx in the Greek Underworld. I laughed somewhat manically. How fitting. Maybe this was a cult filled with people that believed that they were reincarnations of Greek people. I wonder if I needed to give him a few coins to ensure my safe passage.
My laughter subsided when I thought of how my mother had somehow gotten involved with these people. And I couldn’t explain those cuts that had come out of nowhere.
I didn't have any other questions after that. Instead I looked out the window, staring at the countryside as we passed it by. I had never been farther than a few miles outside of our town my entire life. I had always wanted to explore the world, I never imagined I would leave home this way.
After a few hours, we stopped. We were still close enough that it wouldn’t be impossible for me to get home. Maybe I could escape.
As soon as I had the thought, it’s like I could feel my mother’s pain as if she was right this minute being struck again by invisible whips just at my rebellious thoughts. Somehow, I knew that I wasn’t imagining it, it was actually happening. I wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere without her suffering the consequences. As upset as I was at my mother, I couldn’t let that happen.
Charon opened the door. I peeked out, squinting in the bright sunlight. My jaw dropped when I noticed that we had parked outside of an airplane hangar. There was a sleek black jet with no writing on it waiting on the tarmac in front of us. My mysterious cult kidnappers were definitely very wealthy.
Charon grabbed my trunk out of the limo and walked with me towards the airplane. As we approached the plane, the door of it opened and a set of stairs unfolded beneath it. I wasn’t sure if that was normal.
A beautiful woman dressed in a tight black skirt and a red blouse that reminded me of blood stood at the top, a wide smile on her face as she saw us approach. I slowly walked up the stairs, not bothering to say hi to what looked like the flight attendant. She was obviously one of the cult people and therefore an enemy at the moment.
All thoughts exited my head however when I looked around the interior of the plane. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. Black and red took up the entire space, and everything was made of sumptuous fabrics. Instead of chairs, there were black leather couches lining both sides of the plane’s walls with tables in between them. There were a few doors at the back of the plane that I presumed led to a bathroom and possibly a bedroom. It was the kind of plane that the billionaires always had in the books I read.
At that moment, Charon appeared behind me, making me jump a bit. I saw that he was trying to stifle a smile at my idiotic reaction. Maybe he had a sense of humor after all.
Charon gestured to one of the lavish, black leather couches, and I went to sit down. It was the most comfortable thing I had ever sat on, and I nestled into the soft leather, enjoying the comfort after the bumpy car ride. There were seat belts connected to the couch, and I clicked one closed around me. No sooner had I done so then the door of the plan closed, and the plane started up. No one said a word to me, but I was coming to expect that after my quiet car ride with Charon. We were in the air soon after that, and I gripped the arm of the couch tightly. It was ironic really that this was my first time in an airplane. Who would've thought that it would happen after getting abducted by a crazy cult. As I watched the clouds pass by, I suddenly remembered Dallin, and the fact that he would be waiting for my text message today. Looking around and seeing that Charon and the pretty flight attendant weren’t looking my way, I surreptitiously patted my pocket, trying to see if I had remembered to slip my phone inside it. I groaned when I remembered that it was sitting on my bed upstairs still. I hadn't believed that I was actually going anywhere when I walked downstairs this morning. I definitely would have at least changed out of my pajamas and into regular clothes. I cursed my stupidity. I should've known that what was happening was very real with the way that my mother had acted the night before.
Again, a flash of hurt spiraled up my spine. How could she have gotten herself involved in something like this and brought me into it. I thought that she had loved me.
We flew for hours. The flight attendant brought by a plate of assorted nuts and fruit, but I had lost any semblance of hunger with the situation and politely declined despite the fact that I hadn’t eaten since the night
before. Charon tried to be helpful by turning on a movie on one of the giant flat screens. I laughed when I saw that he had turned on Brad Pitt's version of Troy. How fitting for the situation.
At some point in the flight, I drifted off. My dreams filled with images of me surrounded by Greek heroes battling in a field soaked in blood. And in the background my mother silently wept as she watched me in their midst’s. I was woke up by the plane hitting the tarmac, signaling that we had landed. Opening my eyes was a struggle. I had been in a deep sleep.
I looked out the window to see where we were. It looked similar to the terrain at home. There were thousands of trees everywhere you looked, and they stretched on for miles. The only thing different was the giant mountains in the distance, their peaks covered in snow.
“Where are we?” I asked no one in particular. As usual, I didn't get an answer. The plane door opened up, and I unbuckled my seatbelt and got up. Charon walked past me from the back, carrying my heavy black truck once again. He exited the plane, not saying a word to me. Apparently, I was supposed to follow him.
For some reason the flight attendant looked decidedly less happy with me as I approached the staircase. I wondered if my refusal of her fruit tray had somehow set her off. I said thank you and headed down the stairs, but I could feel her eyes boring into the back of my skull as I walked away.
There was another limo waiting right outside the plane. Charon had the door opened already and was once again impatiently waiting for me. I got into the back seat and he closed it behind me. Away we went once again.
There was no sign of civilization as we drove. There were no stores, or other cars, or any other signs of life. For someone who had always been around other people, it was a little bit terrifying to feel so alone. Charon finally turned down a long driveway that was almost entirely obscured by trees. A few feet in we stopped at an enormous set of iron gates, the kind that usually stood outside a giant manor or other historical building. It opened in front of us slowly and we drove through. The driveway seemed to stretch on forever. The thick foliage along the sides of the road made it impossible for me to see what was around. After another five-minute drive, we finally saw the first sign of civilization. It was a house, or maybe the better word for it was a castle. All gray stone and winding turrets, it was something out of a fairy tale.
