The Mark of Chaos

by Susan D. Kalior

  I knew what that meant. Before he made me a prisoner in my own house, I blurted, “johnny, don’t override me. If we’re going to deepen our relationship, you can’t treat me like a child!”

  He took another step and dipped his forehead, his whirling eyes engaging mine. Uh oh, the seduction.

  I turned my head away. “I mean it johnny, no magic, no muscle. If Ricky shows, I want to try it my way first.”

  He sighed hard. “Very well.”

  “Very well?” I said, surprised by his acquiescence. Feeling relief, I exhaled sharply. “All right then.” I tugged the ends of my sweatshirt down, feeling a bit empowered. He’d actually listened to me without making me work so hard. I guess that there is a . . . what’s that they say, ‘first time for everything.’

  I straightened my shoulders. “I’m going jogging now.”

  “It won’t be pleasant,” he said dryly. “He is out there in the woods awaiting you. He knows you jog in the afternoon.”

  I cocked my head and squinted one eye. “How do I know you’re not tricking me into thinking he’s more vicious than he really is?”

  “Because I never lie to you. Never.”

  His sincerity got to me. Guilt sprouted its ugly little head, yapping at my conscience. He’s loyal. He’s honest. He cares. He loves you. “I’m sorry, johnny. I know you have psychic powers, but I know Ricky. He would never hurt me. And if he is out there, it will give me a chance to make peace with him.”

  He arced his hand toward the woods. “Then go.”

  “I’ll be back in a bit,” I said affectionately.

  He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “If you must learn the hard way . . .”

  “Goodbye,” I blurted, a bit mad at his attempt to psyche me out.

  As I took off jogging across my backyard toward the forest path, I heard him mumble, “Dreamer.”

  I crossed the yard and took a snow-covered trail into the woods, glad to have some time to process things without him reading my every thought. Who was I kidding? He probably read my mind no matter where I was.

  My shoes made muddy prints in the light layer of powdery snow, a clear indication that I was running away from johnny. The trees laden with white, reminded me again of my own fairy tale cover up weighing me down. I was tired of being reminded of all I was trying to forget. Tired of trying to escape and landing in front of the truth.

  Was I crazy to run out here where Ricky may lurk, perhaps readying himself to assault me? How could I doubt johnny? He was always right. But he wasn’t taking into account how well I could manipulate Ricky. That sounds awful, I know, but I had been doing it to him from the start. I had led him right down the path toward marriage, that is, until johnny came along.

  I could handle Ricky on my own. If I approached him with soft eyes and a sweet voice, his ire would melt. It had always worked before. Still, I was apprehensive about running into him, oh, not for fear of my safety; my true concern was what to tell him about johnny. I love you Ricky, but I slept with johnny last night. I wanted to marry you Ricky, but I’m all tied up with johnny. You were right from the start Ricky, johnny was a threat to you.

  johnny had psyched me out. I wasn’t enjoying my run. Now that I’d left him, I only wanted to return. But I wouldn’t. I had to trust my own sense of things and my ability to handle rough situations. I could handle Ricky. I was certain. Time to take care of my own problems. Time to grow up.

  My thoughts were interrupted by grunts and groans ahead of me, off to the side in the thick woods. Could it be Ricky? His posse?

  I crept cautiously toward the sounds, pushing through thick foliage and sticker bushes that kept snagging my clothes. I parted two tall raspberry plants and saw johnny straddling some guy in six inches of snow, punching his face. I froze in my usual stupor. johnny turned his head and looked straight at me.

  Two cowboy-type guys jumped his back. I shrieked. Five more men jumped on top of him. He flung them off, one, by two, by three, by two. They were fighting—hard. I mean kicking, punching, whacking, smacking, etching their violence in the snow, kind of fighting, and I hurt for them. If johnny were anyone else, I’d have worried for him, but as it was, I pitied johnny’s attackers, whom I didn’t recognize. Where was Ricky? He likely just wanted johnny beat up. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

  I felt as if I was watching a dream through binoculars, the rims bordering johnny, brilliantly animating his form. All else seemed slow moving, cold and gray.

  A big hand clamped my mouth, dragging me backwards. “You can’t do this to me and get away with it bitch.” It was Ricky. No! I couldn’t believe it.

  I screamed into his hand, struggling to break free. He shoved me to the ground. I landed on my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I couldn’t breathe.

  He gripped my neck and mashed my cheek into the snow. “You’re a damn little liar, playing the innocent with me.”

  Oh, how could I have been so stupid, pretending Ricky wasn’t dangerous? Keeping my pride with johnny was not worth the price of this experience. With my mind, I sent the message, You were right, johnny. I need your help. Ricky whipped me over, my back to the ground. I felt like Raggedy Ann. My breath returned, though troubled and irregular. His red face blazed through his beard, glaring hideous hate upon me.

  I swept my head sideways to escape his contempt, but it soaked into me. I felt worthless. I wanted to die. Ironic, that the only sparkle of light that I could see was johnny—my Prince of Darkness. His fight had spilled around the bushes staying close to me, his watchful glance acknowledging me in between hits and kicks. Why wasn’t he helping me? Maybe there was a mystical reason. Surely, there must be, or maybe he is trying to make me use Angel power. My light, I should shine it on Ricky.

  Ricky snatched my chin, forcing me to stare at him. “We’re gonna have our time you little whore.”

  He snared my wrists in one hand and jerked me up to my feet, nearly pulling my arms out of the sockets. Sharp pains blasted my shoulders. He dragged me behind his strapping body. I called upon my light, trying not to be afraid, else I negate its affect as I had with the strip club guys. It emerged from my heart with some fear mixed in because I didn’t quite believe it could stop violence. I kept trying to make the light purer, but failing, Ricky dragged me onward.

  Snow fell on his brown suede jacket. I could hear the rough and tumble noises following us. We were moving deeper into the woods at a pace I couldn’t match.

  I stumbled. “Ricky, let’s talk!”

  Ricky stopped, and I regained my footing.

  He turned to me, teeth clenched. He tightened his grip. “Let’s fuck, Jenséa.”

  “My feelings for you were real! I wanted to marry you!”

  “I’d never marry a two bit whore like you.” He yanked me hard and dragged me onward, aggravating the pain in my shoulders, maybe doing permanent damage.

  Feminine wiles were all I had left to save me. Sweet. I had to be sweet. Sweet would work. It had to work.

  I honeyed my voice, “I care for you Ricky.” I wanted to look at him with soft eyes, but he wasn’t looking at me.

  “Like shit you do!” He jolted me roughly.

  Sweet wasn’t working. Pain stabbed my shoulders. I stumbled again, falling on my knees. The cold soaked through my jogging pants.

  He yanked me up to my feet, my knees sporting two wet circles.

  My shoulders felt on fire, my wrists felt crushed, and my hands had no feeling at all, numbed from lack of circulation.

  johnny had carried the fight with him, following us. What was he up to? Why was he letting Ricky torment me? This was not love!

  “Well, damn,” Ricky said, “I guess your boyfriend wants to watch.”

  He turned and slammed my back to the ground.

  Pain hit my lungs like shattered glass. I couldn’t breathe again. Eternity passed in real times seconds. Then a little air seeped in. I eked, “I never meant to hurt you.”

  He slapped my face. Grisly white pain sizzled in my
head. He kissed me hard, biting my lip. “You did.”

  I tasted blood. I started to cry. Much of my hair had escaped its ponytail and a muddy tress was in my mouth. “johnny,” I whimpered, tasting sludge.

  Ricky’s hand went to the waist of my sweat pants, pulling one side down over my hip.

  I clamped his wrist trying to stop him. “johnny!”

  Ricky froze. His eyes grew big, stunned, bulging his reddened face. He crawled off me. His hands and knees dropped onto the slushy ground. He seemed unable to breathe, unable to even gasp for air. I’d seen this before. johnny’s work.

  I rose slowly, worried about Ricky even though he was being so mean to me. I looked to where I had last spotted johnny. He was standing against a backdrop of downed men, some silent and still, some twisting and groaning. His stance was wicked, hooded eyes staring at Ricky. I feared for Ricky’s life.

  Then Ricky gasped, inhaling air, wheezing.

  johnny had spared him—for me . . . dear johnny. I started to run toward my Tazmark, but my wrist was grabbed, circulation squelched again. Ricky’s big hand was back on the job. I tried to peel the big boned fingers off me.

  “Don’t go to him,” he gasped. “He’s a damn demon, Jenséa! He has you under a spell.”

  johnny said, “Release her . . . or—” he shrugged his shoulders casually, “die.”

  Ricky stood up, tightening his grip on my wrist.

  I shouted, “You’re hurting me!”

  He shouted to johnny, “What the hell do you want with Jenséa?”

  johnny answered coolly, “I want to protect her.”

  In one smooth move Ricky stepped behind me, snaking his arm around my middle, snatching my back against his chest. “I can protect her just fine.”

  “You assaulted her. Rape was next.”

  “That’s before I understood what the fuck was going on, before I could see that you are inhuman.” Ricky’s warm breath whirred over my head. “I forgive you, Jenséa. It was him. He’s a damn devil in the flesh, or a warlock or something like that. That serpent on your neck, that’s how he holds you. He doesn’t go to church does he?”

  I listened to Ricky, doubting myself.

  johnny’s eyes became hooded again. “Release her.”

  “I’ll save you yet, Jenséa.” He released me. “Don’t trust him.”

  But I had to trust johnny because it was johnny that I wanted. How’s that for simplification? Believe what suits you. Unfortunately, I did that too much.

  I rushed over to johnny and looked back at Ricky. “Don’t worry. I’m all right with him. He understands me. You would never love the real me anyway. Just go away in peace, and please forgive me and johnny. Please.”

  “I’m sorry I injured you, Jenséa,” Ricky said with the saddest eyes.

  I gazed around at the fallen men. “I’m sorry anyone was hurt.”

  “Hail Mary three times,” johnny said cynically.

  johnny took my hand as a lover takes a hand, with a soft firm grip, warm and enveloping. He took me past Ricky onto the trail to my house. I twisted my head back to view my poor cowboy who was staring longingly at me, red faced with rumpled hair and muddied blue jeans. He stood there, frozen in a stance of bravado. Near him, two men writhed.

  “I should see if those guys are okay.” I pulled back from johnny lightly, but he kept me walking, towing me behind him. I gazed up at the back of his head. “Are they?”

  “I kept my promise,” he turned his head toward me slightly, “as you wished, harming them no more than necessary.”

  “But they might need medical attention—”

  “They’re fine.”

  “Well . . . “

  “Shhh,” He walked me faster toward the house, out of Ricky’s sight.

  “I don’t have to shhh!” I tried to dig my feet into the ground.

  He stopped and faced me, releasing my hand. He cocked his head slightly and sighed, “Your empathic sensitivities must sometimes be curbed.”

  “Why?”

  “You can’t escape an opponent if you don’t detach.”

  “But everything’s okay now. The Ricky ordeal is over.”

  “No, Jen, it’s not. And you won’t believe me if I tell you what I know, so instead I say, ‘shhh.’ I want you to trust me.”

  “What do you know?”

  “You won’t listen, so why should I say?”

  “Just say. I’ll listen.”

  He stared deep into me. “I know he won’t stop trying to save you until he has you back. And once he has you back, eventually—he’ll kill you.” He touched my upper jaw. “Your cheek is bruising.” He traced his finger to my swollen lip. “He has already beaten you up, Jen.”

  “If you’re so set on protecting me, why did you let him?”

  “I wanted to prove to you that he would.”

  He tried to take my hand again. I jerked it away, stepping back, furious. A clump of mud fell off my sleeve and splattered on my boot. I huffed at the mud, as it mocked my anger, taking johnny’s side. Then, I huffed at johnny. “Fine! You were right! You are always right, johnny! You see all. You know all. And I’m just a stupid emotional girl!” I stomped ahead of him in silence.

  He followed, his invisible Dragon wings enfolding me in the dungeon of his being. It felt good. It felt bad. I was safe. Or was I? My old muddied footprints were even muddier now. I stepped in their hollow, my toes now pointing the opposite way. I wasn’t running away from johnny; I was going into johnny—in.

  We walked for five minutes until we came upon my house—my heavenly nest, my sanctuary. Once perhaps. Not anymore. The carnivorous crow had come to stay.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I just stared at my house, afraid of what the next chapter of my life might unfold. johnny walked ahead of me toward the door. The compelling charismatic energy he had, made me follow. Reaching the door, we removed our muddy shoes and socks, and left them on the outside step. johnny removed his mud slimed shirt and laid it on the shoes. He perused my mud-smeared sweat suit with a sexual glint.

  “Oh no,” I shook my head, and then, almost against my will, I slipped off my suit and dropped it on the soiled pile, leaving me in my white lacey bra and panties. My normal modesty was there, but for some reason I just couldn’t show it. I was saying no within, but behaving the opposite. Everything was off-line.

  johnny took off his jeans and shirt, making the pile higher. The front door magically opened. We stepped in. I whipped off my ponytail holder, which had come to hold but a tress of hair. A mud clump shot out onto my blue carpet. I stared at it like it was me. It had to fall. Just like me. It didn’t have a choice. Just like me. Oh, what had become of my will? Who was bad? Ricky? johnny? Me? And who was good? Ricky? johnny? Me? Those answers used to be clear. Now it seemed that we were all bad. Or all good.

  johnny walked across the family room toward the hall. I followed his naked maleness, ignoring the mud clump. I didn’t want to clean it up really, for it was as me, a thing falling away from the whole trying to say, ‘look at me; I need help.’ If I cleaned it up, maybe no one would find me, ever. No one would see how I’d been absorbed into another.

  I looked at my sofa and chair, at the angel paintings on the wall, at the live green plants that decorated standing planters along my stairway. These things reflected me. johnny always claimed he was helping me find myself. But then, why did I feel so lost?

  I had never felt lost with him before. So, why now? What had changed? Perhaps the more I discovered of myself, the more he had me. Or the more I found, the more I needed to find more of me. My thoughts seemed crazy. Or . . . maybe I was just in love.

  johnny headed down the hall, and of course, I followed. His long black hair bespoke power somehow, chief stallion, chief headdress, my chief. His gait was a glide really, sliding along in some other reality visible to mine. My definitions of everything had exploded, changing all the rules that seemed to collide into one big mess. Could the Blessed Saints hear me anymore? Had t
hey ever? Surely, God had forsaken me with my parents murdered, me raped, and johnny in my life. I survived my parents. I survived rape. But I could never survive johnny because he wasn’t a thing that faded with time. Ever present, johnny was alive and active in my life—be I here, there, or anywhere. There would never be an end to him, and my only escape was to let him end me. And I would let him, if only to taste him once more. I hated myself for hanging my life on his hook. Or . . . maybe this was just infatuation. Being in love was such a tragic thing.

  We entered the bedroom, the bedroom of horrors, walls of wrath and war blaring. His hands stroked my arms slowly, comforting me—deep. Each little kiss all over my face aroused me more. I inhaled the scent of him, the scent of birth and death, and all significant moments in life. I felt myself give way, the wave of johnny knocking me off my feet to take me out to sea.

  We were on the soft black carpet, him on me, then rolling me on him. His hair caved my face. I nipped his chin with an ancient want that baffled me so.

  Somehow my bra and panties were off me. We made love in slow motion. I had fallen deep into that place he’d led me once long ago, a dark cavern with dripping water. Drip. Drip. Drip. Here, I was safe. I had at last resigned myself fully to his wish that I be his ward.

  Afterward, we slept entangled on my daybed under handcuffs hooked on the wall. And though johnny’s grip was hard, he seemed to hold me with something beautiful. Love. Was that not sacred? Or maybe he didn’t love me. Maybe I was just supposed to think he did, and once he had my complete allegiance, he’d take my soul and laugh the devil’s laugh. Still, I loved him. Well, he wouldn’t call it love, but I did.

  Night came and johnny went away for food. People food.

  I left the Dark Room and retreated upstairs to my fairy tale room of blue and white. I slid under white covers and stared at the sheer white canopy above me. I wasn’t white any more. I prayed less and less to a religious version of God, and more and more I prayed to life itself. Oh Life, in the name of truth, in the name of love, help johnny’s victims, and johnny, and me. But under my breath I said, I need you too, oh Blessed Saints—and God, if you are there.