by M A Roth
“It’s the poison in your system. It’s flushing out. The worst should be over in forty-eight hours; you're nearly through the first twenty-four.”
I froze, my body becoming rigid. “What poison?”
“Alcohol; your body hasn’t had any. Your system is in shock.”
I wanted to cry. It was like airing your dirty laundry in front of the world, I knew people went through withdrawals, but was it normally this severe, and in front of everyone? “I don’t have a problem, just an odd drink.”
I looked at Cecelia, and she gave me a look of pity. “What age did you start at?” she asked, sounding really concerned.
Anger—I reached for my old friend. “What are you, my fucking therapist?” I wanted to hit something or her. I had never felt so agitated before.
She stood up. “You being angry and rude like this, Nicolas said it’s part of your symptoms. I hope he is right, because if he isn’t, you’re not a very nice person, Abigail.”
Her words stung. I don’t know why, but they went straight to my heart. When she closed the door, the tears came and wouldn’t stop. I was turning into a baby. I don’t think I had ever cried so much. I let out a scream of frustration, but regretted it almost immediately. What if someone heard and came to check on me? Another pep talk? No one arrived. I wasn’t sure exactly how I truly felt about that. But I told myself it was for the best, and cried myself to sleep.
Cecelia hadn’t lied. I was sick for the next twenty-four hours. At stages, I thought I was dying, but I drank every mug of stuff that they were giving me, pleading for the pain to go away. It wasn’t just the pain it brought with it, it was the clarity. My mind felt clear for the first time in my life, but I also felt so fragile. Not just my body, but my mind.
Nicolas never returned, and on the third morning of waking up in Hell, I felt better. I opened my eyes and didn’t feel like I was going to throw up. My hands only shook slightly. I had a headache, but it was from hunger. Pushing back the quilts, I turned my head away from my body odor. I needed to wash, and badly. I climbed from the bed but stood still as a wash of dizziness came over me.
It settled after a moment, and I made it into the adjoining room, a bathroom. Out of habit, my hand felt around for a switch, and when it actually landed on one, I was taken back. I flicked it up, and light flooded the small bathroom. A bronze-colored bath with taps sat in the center of the room. I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God it wasn’t furnished like a castle. I was expecting candles and pulling buckets of water from a well to bathe. I filled the bath with glorious hot water and started to pull off my filthy clothes.
Once stripped, I turned to the full-length mirror that was attached to the wall. My body was skin and bones. I could count my ribs. My eyes traveled up over my small breasts and landed on my face. I touched it with my hand, and the hand of the girl in the mirror touched her own face too: her eyes sunken, black circles under them, her greasy long black hair, all clumped up and stuck to her head. I couldn’t believe it was me, this pitiful-looking creature. The mirror fogged over from the steam, making the vision of the girl leave, much to my relief.
I moved away as tears filled my eyes and turned off the hot tap, letting some cold water filter into the bath. I watched the water pour in my hand running along the surface. I felt so lost, I didn’t even know who I was anymore. Letting out a heavy sigh, I knocked off the water and climbed into the bath, lowering myself slowly. The warmth gave me a comfort that I needed, like a hug from someone who loved me. Tears came again. I felt so broken and alone. I didn’t want to feel like this. I looked around the bath to distract myself, and my eyes lit up: bottles of shampoo and conditioner and some body wash sat neatly on the side.
I laughed, thinking how bizarre all this was. Moving the bottles, I stopped short. My eyes landing on something that was my salvation in my darkest times. I picked up the razor. The blade glinted in the light. It would make me feel normal, I told myself; it was okay. But now, with a clear mind, another part of me said don’t do it. It was a battle in my mind.
“Shut up!” I roared, dropping the razor into the water. I cradled my head in my hands. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be normal. My hand found what it looked for, the razor, and I ran it along my thigh, pressing it hard against my skin until I could feel the bite of it. The water around my thigh was soon tinted red.
Anger boiled inside me. I through the razor across the bathroom, watching it break on the stone floor. I didn’t want to be so broken anymore; I sobbed, trying to hold them back in fear of someone hearing me. But I wanted to scream and curse everything, everyone. All the betrayals through my life, all the people I had lost and now this was my fate. I hated everything but most of all I hated myself, for the person I had become. I washed my hair with an anger that overtook me, digging my hands deep into my scalp. But no matter how hard I washed my skin, I didn’t feel clean. I don’t know how long I kept this up for, but my skin was red and swollen when a voice made me freeze.
“What are you doing?” Elena asked from the door. I closed my eyes, wishing her away but when I opened them, she was still there. Her big brown eyes were round and wide, looking at the cut on my thigh.
“I was shaving and cut myself,” I whispered, the words sounding like the lie they were.
Elena nodded and swallowed. “I know this must be hard for you, but...”
I cut off her words of sympathy. “Please don’t. I really don’t want your comfort.” I stared back, meeting her eye with the bit of dignity I had left; it was hard, considering I was naked in the bath, and I knew I looked frightening.
She turned her head away. “I’ve left some clothes on the bed for you. When you are dressed, let me know, and I’ll bring you to the kitchens.” Her eyes turned back to me then. “I’ll wait outside your door.”
I didn’t answer, but waited for her to leave. Once I heard the click of the bedroom door, I got out of the bath and started to dry myself. I raced past the mirror not looking at the broken girl.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I dressed robotically into a pair of beige trousers, boots that reached my knees, and a long-sleeved white top. It all screamed ‘Elena’, but it must have been when she was thinner, because it fit my small frame. I let my hair flow down my back and opened the bedroom door.
As promised, Elena stood against the wall; she pushed off it at my arrival. She gave a weak smile, but I stared back with no amusement on my face. I needed a plan on how to get home, and I needed to stay strong. The first thing I needed was for my body to be strong before I could do anything, so with that thought in mind, I followed Elena to the kitchens, where Cecelia was.
I wanted to groan out loud, but bit my tongue and sat down at a long bench across from a roaring fire. Cecelia placed a bowl of soup and a spoon in front of me without a word. I took small, experimental sips, and when the first few stayed down, I ate the rest. I wanted more, but didn’t ask, when Cecelia took away the bowl and replaced it with a cup of coffee.
My eyes lit up with pure delight. This place was full of surprises. I took a sip and let the smile cross my face as I let out a sigh of contentment. Someone cleared their throat, and I looked up at Elena. She had sat quietly as I had drunk the soup; now she destroyed my perfect moment.
“I know you have lots of questions, so once you’re finished your coffee…” she paused with a smile before continuing, while I returned a cold stare, “which I can see you’re really enjoying, I will take you to the finest teacher in all of our lands. He can fill you in,” she finished, looking very happy with herself—but for what I didn’t know.
“Teacher?” I questioned. I hated school, and this was definitely Hell. I drank down the remainder of the coffee quickly, as my perfect moment had been destroyed, and I wanted to get some answers.
Elena got up with a bounce in her step, leading me from the cozy kitchen and down the hallway, and back into the room that I had first arrived in. A fire was lit there, also; the room was warm. I stood in front of the hea
t, letting it soak into my bones. The door closed behind Elena as she left. I looked around the room for this teacher, but no one was in sight. Sitting down at the large table and chairs that were just across from the fire, I sat on the chair that was closest. I must have drifted off, from my full belly and the heat, which wasn’t surprising.
When I opened my eyes, Nicolas loomed over me in all his angry glory. He had ditched the black clothing and wore denim jeans and a white t-shirt, but my eyes got stuck on his gloved hands.
“May we start?” His voice held annoyance. Great, so he was the teacher. I just sat up straighter, rubbing my eyes.
The little side door opened, and Cecelia bustled in, gaining an annoyed stare off Nicolas, but she didn’t seem fazed at all by him. She moved to me, placing a mug of coffee in front of me. I looked at her, puzzled. “To help keep you alert,” she answered my puzzled look. I wanted to say ‘thank you for such a thoughtful and kind thing’, but the words wouldn’t come. They felt strange to me, so I looked into the mug instead, not sure of what to do.
She left, and I looked up at Nicolas. He just stared at me. He broke eye contact, much to my relief. Looking into his black eyes did no favors to my heart. It jumped around whenever he turned his full attention on me.
He sat in the chair beside me and clasped his gloved hands together. “I think the best way to make you understand what you are doing here is to start at the beginning.”
My heart squeezed; not at his closeness, but at his words. I would find out why he took me.
“Okay, I’m ready to listen,” I said, wrapping my hands around the mug. I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but I needed to know.
“Heaven—as you know it—to us, it’s the Upper, and it was the first place that men settled. It was ruled by a man called John. He had a vision of a world filled with bliss, happiness, a world of peace. He lived a great and long life, and like all things, he eventually died. He had managed to create a society of perfection. No violence, no unkindness; it worked for a while. After he died, his son Matthew took the throne and continued his father’s works. But every man has two sides. Good and evil reside in us all.”
I took a drink from my mug to give my mind a moment to absorb what he was saying. “Okay, so you’re telling me that God doesn’t exist?” I questioned skeptically.
“God is whoever you want him to be, as is the devil. He has many names. But you must understand—everything dies, Abigail. No one can live forever, so to suggest that God has always been there and always will be it isn’t possible. He is a God to Middle Earth, but his face changes, as does his name, as each generation takes the throne in Upper.” I took a deep gulp of my coffee and tried to keep an open mind.
Nicolas continued, “So a few men in Upper weren’t happy anymore, I suppose, in a way they were bored with a life of perfection, so they challenged Matthew, showing signs of anger and hate towards what his father had created. He asked them to leave, and they did, with delight. The first man to leave The Upper was Lucian, or to you, the Devil. He had more evil than goodness in him, and so a world identical to the Upper was created. Only it wasn’t a place of bliss, but one of hate and destruction; no rules applied. You could do what you wanted to, kill someone, and no harm would come to you. It was called Hades. That’s where you are now.” Nicolas stopped to see how I was taking all of this.
A shiver raced through me. I knew I was still in Hell, but to have it confirmed was something entirely different. The heat of the fire didn’t seem to be warming me anymore. I shivered, and a small headache throbbed at the back of my skull.
“If you need me to stop, we can continue this after,” he said.
I raised the mug to my lips, only to find the coffee ice cold. I set it back down again. I needed to know, even if it all seemed extreme—yet I was sitting in Hell, drinking a cup of coffee. My eyes fell to the table and traveled to Nicolas’s covered hands. “Have you meet Lucian?” I asked with a shake in my voice. I looked back up at him.
Nicolas’s face became hard again, ice turning his brown eyes black. “No, he died before my time, and so have many of his sons and their sons who came after him. The one who sits on the red throne is Lucifer, and him, I have met.”
I swallowed, looking back at the table. “Am I like him?” I whispered the words and held my breath, terrified to look up in fear of what I would see.
Silence filled the room, and I thought that Nicolas wasn’t going to answer, but he did. “No.”
My eyes shot up to his face, and I searched his for signs of a lie, but what I found there was the truth. He meant what he said. Well, he believed what he said.
“Thank you.” The words were barely audible, but from the surprise on his face, I knew he had heard me.
The sound of a bell made me jump in the chair; the sound was a shock in the quietness of the room. It rang again, louder, with more urgency. I could see Nicolas tense.
The door of the room burst open, and around ten men poured in, all dressed in armor with their swords drawn. I froze at the sight of them.
“Take her to the dungeons. Lock her in the room. No one goes in or out but me. Understand?” he said.
The men answered by nodding, and two of them moved towards me. I jumped up, knocking the chair out from behind me. It hit the ground, but the sound was covered by the ringing of the bells.
“I’m not going into a dungeon,” I said, panic rising.
Nicolas grabbed my arms, shaking me slightly. “It’s not up for debate. I’m trying to keep you safe.” He let go and nodded at the two men before storming from the room.
The two men reached for me. “I can walk,” I barked. I didn’t want to trust Nicolas; he had been nothing but cruel to me. Cruel was an understatement—yet I trusted him, and followed the men quickly to the dungeons. We passed other rooms, large in size, that were filled with frightened women and children all huddled together. My mind was buzzing with confusion.
We reached a door, and one of the men opened it, I stood in the doorway, terrified to enter. What if they didn’t let me out? “Why can’t I just stay with the other people?” I asked, turning to him.
“He won’t sense you in here,” he said in a rough voice.
“Who?” My mind was frantic. A screech that set the hair standing on my neck pierced my ears. The man pushed me forward into the room. I stumbled into the wall and fell. The last thing I heard was the door banging.
I got up slowly. I wasn’t in the dungeon room anymore. The wind whipped my hair around my face, and I had to pull it away to take in the view.
It was spectacular. I stood on the edge of a cliff, looking out into just miles of beautiful blue sky. I stood for a moment, feeling nothing but peace. My eyes closed as I let the calm wash over me. I had no idea how I had gotten here, but right now I didn’t care.
“Abigail!”
My eyes shot open and turned to where the voice had come from. Small hands came into view, and I took only one step closer to the edge. Sam, my brother, hung on to the ledge, his feet dangling over empty air. I watched as his bottom lip trembled.
Confusion and fear filled me as I fell flat on my stomach and grabbed both his hands. “Sam, it's okay,” I reassured him as I tightened my grip.
His eyes filled with tears and poured over. My own eyes blurred at seeing him solid and the feel of his little wrists in my hands.
“Don’t let me fall!” he said as his body shook with sobs.
“I won’t.” He was only ten, and I remembered he weighed nothing. It wouldn’t be too hard to pull him over. I took a deep breath and gave him a small smile before I pulled both his arms with all my strength.
But it was like he was made of lead. He just didn’t budge. I still held onto him tightly.
“Try harder, Abigail!” Sam’s sobs were getting louder, and my heart was pounding rapidly against my chest.
Words drifted to me. This isn’t real. I looked at Sam as he continued to beg me not to let him fall, his little face wet with streaming tears.
My own tears hit his perfect face. I knew this was like Cathy; it wasn’t real, yet it felt so real to me. “Sam!” His name came out with a sob as the realization of him falling dawned on me.
He shook his head back and forth, more tears falling. “Please, Abby, just pull me up!” He looked down at the drop that I couldn’t see an end to, and then his blue eyes returned to my face.
I felt nothing but despair. “I’m sorry,” I whispered as tears raced across my face. I licked the salty substance from my lips. It felt so real, tasted so real. I pulled again, letting out a scream as I put everything into it, but I didn’t move him an inch. The only thing I did was exhaust myself.
“Oh Sam,” I said, looking at him before closing my eyes. His cries and pleas for me to save him and pull him up tore at my heart. But I didn’t look back up as I held his small wrists. Instead, I kept my face in the dirt, and I cried until my arms shook and sweat filled my palms. I could feel him slip, hear him become more frantic.
I screamed with anger and the fear just as his little arms slipped through my wet hands.
I opened my eyes, and my vision was filled with the concrete ground. I pulled myself into a sitting position and pulled my knees to my chest. I didn’t know what to think anymore or how to feel. Everything was confusing, and my whole life was a lie, and still, I didn’t know the truth.
Sam’s face, the tremble of his lips, made me sink my face into my arms. “It wasn’t real,” I reminded myself out loud. My heart was pounding just thinking about it. But I tried to calm myself by taking deeps breaths as I tried to focus. My brain was a jumble.
I don’t know how I fell asleep, but the screech of the latch alerted me. I jumped up, feeling wide awake as Nicolas entered.
He was covered in black stuff, and the stench of it had me covering my mouth. The only area I could see was his face, which he had wiped clean before coming here. That made my anger boil—that he’d cleaned his face before letting me out of this cell.
I stared at him with anger and contempt for what happened with Sam. If his guards hadn’t pushed me, I wouldn’t have fallen. My fists clenched at my sides as he stood there watching me. I couldn’t find any words so I made my way for the door.
