by Cerys du Lys
There's jugs of kerosene oil for gas lamps in a storage room in the back on the first floor. I go get a few of them. This is the last part of my plan. I don't know if this is a good plan, but I've already done the rest so I might as fucking well do the last part. I heft up a couple of the jugs and bring them to the front door to the church, then start sloshing them around. I get some more and douse the confessional booth and some of the rear pews.
I want the fire to start near the front door so people don't rush in and try to stop it. I don't know who the fuck would do that, but it might happen. It's late enough that most people are probably getting ready for bed right now, but you never know.
As soon as that's done, I find a box of matches, light one, and toss it onto the oil. It ignites immediately. Fire starts licking up the front door and the door casing, then spreads across the carpet, grabbing at the confessional boost. I leave before it gets to the rear pews. I don't have a lot of time.
We don't have a lot of time.
I go to get Angeline. I smile at her and say hi. It doesn't occur to me at first that I look like a fucking grim, sadistic bastard. I'm covered in multiple people's blood, just smiling, waving, who cares?
Apparently she doesn't. She doesn't look scared of me at all.
It takes me a bit of convincing, but I tell her she's safe and eventually she believes me. I lead her up the stairs. Fire's consuming half of the church now. It spreads up the walls towards the ceiling. Fuck. I didn't think this through all the way. I should have cleaned my hands first. I say something to her but I forget what, and then I leave her there to clean my hands quick.
The water is bloody from the other times I cleaned them. They won't fucking get clean. This is fucking annoying. I scrub, scrub... fucking scrub. I guess it doesn't fucking matter. I can clean them in the lake or something. I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do. We just need to leave. Now. I'm not going to die. I'm not going to sit in this church and watch it burn to the ground all around me while I'm trapped with these dead fucking assholes.
I'm not going to. I'm sorry.
*** Angeline
I am saved. Noah saved me. He saved me. I do not know what to think of that, except that now I am saved.
He is my savior. It is a strange thought for this place, but that is what I think.
I am naked and I take his hand. I think he is bleeding at first, but, no, I realize it is not his blood. It is the blood of others. This gives me relief. I do not think I should be relieved that Noah has the blood of others on his hands, but I do not want Noah to bleed.
At the top of the stairs, he shows me something. It is scrunched up and folded into his coat pocket. He does not get it himself, because his hands are unclean, but he shows me it. It is a dress.
It is for me. It is for you, Angeline, he says. My dress. Mine.
I do not own anything, but now I own a dress. It is a strange thing, suddenly coming into possessions once again. I do not know if it is a good feeling or a bad one. It is hard to feel.
Why did I leave you that night, Noah? I do not know. Was it true? Did you tell me the truth? Could we go away somewhere together? Is that possible? I did not know. I still do not know. I do not know if I will ever know. This question is confusing to me.
I put on the dress. It is loose, but covers my body. I do not know what to do with it. I wear clothes on Sundays when I am collecting money in the collection tin, but otherwise I am naked most of the time. I have a flimsy, tattered nightgown that I am sometimes allowed to wear before I go to sleep, but...
There is a fire. Everyone is dead. Noah is not dead, but everyone else is dead. I stare at them, curious. Why are you dead? I know why they are dead—because Noah has killed them—but I wonder if they are dead for a reason. Are they dead because they must be punished?
I think that maybe that is true. I do not know, but I think it is possible. It is hard to know. I do not know what is good or bad. I do not think I am bad, but HE said I was bad. The priest said I needed punishment because I did not understand. Why do I not understand? I do not know.
HE is dead now, too, though. He lays on the floor near the lectern. His blood pools around him. I see its source; a large gash in his throat. He looks peaceful and calm in an odd way. Startled, and yet accepting.
I do not like him.
I go over to him for some reason. I am unsure why. Noah is near here. He is trying to wash his hands in the holy water basin. I do not think that is what it is for, but many of the things here have been used for inappropriate purposes. I am not sure this is any different than that.
I kneel next to the priest and stare at him, confused. He stares, but not at me. You cannot hurt me, I say to him. I do not say it aloud, but in my mind. You should not have hurt me to begin with. I do not think it was good. I do not know, but I do not think it was.
I press a finger into the puddle of blood near his body. It is warm to the touch. I press another finger into it, then another. Soon I am pressing my entire palm into his blood. It is so much. It feels strange. I like it. I do not know if I am supposed to like it, but I do. It fascinates me.
It is hot. There is fire. Why is there fire? We should not be here. We need to leave. I pull my hand up to wipe at the sweat covering my brow from the heat and the flames and blood smears across my forehead. I wrinkle my nose and eyebrows as the slick blood covers my face. It drips down my cheeks alongside my eyes, further down towards my lips.
I do not mean to, but I lick at it. I did not mean to do that, but I do it, and...
I am so hungry. The last time I ate was yesterday when Noah brought me food, and I have eaten nothing since then. Noah was not able to bring me much, either. I understand. I am not angry with Noah, but I am hungry. I am so hungry...
The blood tastes good. Blood is food, is it not? Rare steaks and meats. This is not that, but I think it is alright to do. I dip my hand into the priest's blood again and then bring it to my mouth. I lick my fingers clean, suck on the tips, move down towards the knuckles. I savor the taste.
I thank him. I smile at him and thank him. Thank you very much for this food. You are not nice to me, and now you are dead, but thank you. I appreciate it.
I hear creaking high above. It is the ceiling. There is a fire. We need to leave, but... I am hungry. I am sorry. I am so hungry. This is food. Noah, please understand, please. I am sorry. I do not mean to. I do not wish to be bad. I...
Noah comes for me. He looks different. I do not know why. Is he mad? He takes my hand in his. No, he is not mad. He does not talk to me like he is mad. He lifts me up and pulls me along with him. We go to one of the small back doors of the church that opens out into the woods.
I hear something fall and crash behind us, but it is too far away to see it. We leave. We run through the woods in the dark. I do not know where we are going.
Goodbye.
*** Angeline
For the next few days, Noah and I live in the woods. We go to a cave together. This is our new home.
"We can stay here," Noah says. "We can stay here forever."
"Really?" I ask.
He does not seem so sure of it once I ask him that. I do not think I am supposed to ask him that question.
It is nice, though. Sleeping in a cave is not much different from sleeping in the church basement, if I am being honest. The floor is hard, but it is comfortable because Noah is with me. I lay my head on his chest and sleep close to him, finding comfort in his warmth and his body. Noah is nice. I like Noah.
Noah, I love you.
He has a hunting knife with him. He also has a bag of things he has stored in the cave. He says he brought these things with him before that night. He planned everything. This is good, he says.
"Is it?" I ask. I do not understand why it is good. If this is good, what is bad?
I do not ask him that. I do not know if I wish to know the answer.
We play. Noah and I play! Oh, I love him. It is fun. We play in the woods and we wander around and he show
s me to the lake. We go swimming together. I do not need to wear clothes to go swimming. Noah does not, either.
I play with him in other ways, too. I tease him and cling to him and he squirms and it is fun. I feel his cock growing harder between his legs and I play with it. I put my hands around it and tug and pull and tease and Noah releases his seed onto my hand and into the lake. I like to feel it.
He touches me, too. I want to make love with him. I wish that we would do that, like the night that we did it together, but we do not. We do other things, though. I explore Noah's body with my hands and my mouth. One time I sit on him while I have him distracted and I take him inside of me and, oh, it feels so good. It is very good. This is what good is, I tell myself. I move up and down, feeling myself stretch to accommodate Noah's thickness.
He does not let me finish him, though.
"No, we can't," he says. I do not know why we cannot, but it is fine. I use my hands and my mouth instead until I feel Noah spurt, and then he tackles me to the ground and gives me wonderful ecstasy, too.
It is not all sexual. We do other things. I watch the sunset with Noah. We eat. Oh! We have food. We have so much food. There is a lot of food in the woods. I did not realize this before.
We eat fish around a small campfire that Noah makes near the mouth of the cave. Fish is good. There are many bones, but it tastes good. Noah has a pot and he boils water, as well. We make tea and coffee. We drink as much water from the lake as we like, too. There are roots and berries to eat. One time Noah finds dandelion greens and makes us a salad with our fish, too.
There is a lot of food and happiness and I love him.
Eventually we return, though. Noah has returned before that. He tells me what happened. He spoke with his parents when he was gone. He tells them that he was out on some religious exercise during the fire. He was with me. We were doing something together, but he does not say what, and when we went to return, the church was on fire. We fled. It was not safe.
He tells them that he does not want to bring me back yet because I have nowhere to go and someone will try to take me. He does not tell me this, but I wonder if he has told them that he loves me. Is that the reason why they allow him to stay with me in the woods?
Will we stay here forever?
No, we do not.
We return and I stay at Noah's home. This is strange. His parents welcome me. There is questioning about the church burning down, but no one asks me about it. I do not talk to many people, anyway. I stay in Noah's home, in Noah's room. I eat with his family, and I talk with them, but I am nervous and quiet. I do not know how to talk with people anymore.
I only know how to talk with Noah. We have good talks.
One night when he is very tired and we are laying in his bed together, I tell him something.
"Noah," I whisper into his ear. "I love you."
He mumbles, but I hear him. "I love you, too, Angeline."
I do not know if he remembers saying that, but I will always remember it. I have always remembered it.
And then one day he is gone. By this time, a few weeks have passed since Noah saved me. I am upstairs when I hear him pleading with his parents.
"Please?" he begs. "I need to know that you'll take care of her. I need you to tell me that you won't let anything happen to her."
His father sounds worried. "Is something wrong?"
"I can't talk about it," Noah says. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry. I just... I need to know that you won't abandon her. There are things I need to go do, but if it all works out, I'll come back. I'll send money, too."
"You're going to get a job?" his mother asks. She sounds surprised, but in a good way.
"Yeah, something like that," Noah says. "Just promise me that she can stay here as long as she wants, alright? You won't let anyone take her away, right?"
They promise. Noah seems satisfied with this.
He does not tell me about it. He does not give me his reasons for leaving. I do not know why he is going. I am sad, but I do not want to be sad. I do not want to hurt him. I wish for him to stay. He will come back, though? That is what he said to them. I do not know if that is the truth or not.
Then one day Noah is gone. He leaves early in the morning. I lay in bed, pretending to be asleep, and I watch him go. I think he will be back soon, but he does not come back. I continue laying in bed. Soon, it is afternoon, and I am still in bed. Noah's mother comes for me.
"Are you hungry, hun?" she asks.
I shake my head, no. "Where is Noah?" I ask.
"He'll be back soon, I'm sure," she says. I know she is lying to me, though.
Noah does not return that night. I sleep alone in his bed. He is not there when I wake up in the morning, either. I stay in bed. I do not want to eat. Noah's mother brings me a bowl of soup, anyway. She leaves it on the bedside table. I let it sit there, refusing to eat it. It is not that I refuse to eat it, but that I do not want to eat it without Noah.
Noah, do you remember when we snuck into your bedroom that night? I like your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Noah. They are very good. Noah, I love you. Are you coming back, Noah? Why did you leave me?
Did you go away because I am bad? Is that why?
I think I cry but I do not remember it. The next morning I wake up and my stomach is grumbling and I try to ignore it, but I cannot. I drink the bowl of old, chilled soup. Noah's mother finds me drinking it, and she smiles sadly.
"Come on, dear. Let's go downstairs and have a real breakfast, alright?" she says.
I nod. "Is Noah back yet?"
"Not yet," she says. "Soon."
Noah's father is downstairs eating, as well. I do not know what to think of him. Is he going to hurt me? Will he touch me? Do I need to have sex with him? I do not want to.
He does not want to, either. It is never a thing that we discuss, but he does not show any interest in hurting me. I like Noah's father. He is very nice. One time he brought me a candy bar. He says that it is Noah's favorite, so he thinks I will like it. I do; I like it. Thank you, Noah's father.
Is Noah back yet?
Noah does not come back.
*** Noah
I didn't think he'd come, but he does. I thought that after the church burned down, that'd be it, but the guy shows up. It's just like the papers said. He'd come into town, stay for a few days, grab Angeline, and leave.
Well, fuck off, asshole, you can't have her. I need to make sure he doesn't get her. What the fuck am I supposed to do, though? This isn't like that night at the church. I don't have a good plan anymore.
I go to talk to him and I tell him about my involvement in everything; not the fire, but about the other bullshit. I play it up like I was important. He looks at me like I'm cracked, but listens to what I have to say. Apparently this is some big fucking operation, too. There's a ton of shit going on. The priest has done this before. I tell the guy that he said he was going to use the money to help the town and we both have a good laugh at that.
"Yeah?" the guy asks. "He told me he was going to skip out and take a vacation somewhere for awhile, then start up in another town later."
"Yeah," I say. "He told me that, too. I was going to go with him. Help him out, you know? He didn't want anyone else knowing, though. I guess that plans dead now."
The guy shrugs. "You were in on the business?" he asks.
I shrug. "I guess you could say that."
"It's good money," he says. "Risky sometimes, but if you aren't an idiot, you can do fine. He must have really pissed someone off to end up like this, though."
"You think that's what happened?" I ask. I don't mean to sound nervous, but I'm pretty fucking nervous. Is he on to me?
"Who knows?" he says. "Wouldn't surprise me. Shit like this happens sometimes. Might have just been a regular fire, too."
"Sucks," I say.
"Yeah. I don't know what I'm going to do now. Need to find another girl, I guess."
Fucking hell...
"Is this a big thing?"
I ask. I don't know what the fuck possesses me to ask that. Why the fuck did I ever ask that? "I mean, I only know how it worked here. There's a big market for this or something?"
He grins. "You interested in expanding your horizons, kid?"
"I'm not a kid," I say. "I'm eighteen."
"Yeah, you're a kid," he says. "Best time to start, though. Yeah, there's a lot of people. It's kept quiet, though. It's not like there's a catalogue or anything. You make connections the longer you're in the business, though. There's auctions sometimes. Shitty deal, but if you want to start out, you'll have to deal with them. Move up the ranks, if you will. There's a hierarchy."
A hierarchy of assholes? Holy fucking shit.
I don't know what the fuck to do now. I don't want him to hurt her. I don't want him to hurt anyone. He's just going to find another girl? Who? Who the fuck is he going to find?
You know who? No, you don't, but I do. He's going to find another girl like Angeline and it's just going to fucking happen all over again to someone else. And again, and again. Again. Fucking again. Over and over.
I fucking hate him. I can't fucking let this shit keep happening. I can't do it. Never. You won't fucking touch her. Leave her alone. Fuck off. I will fucking kill you.
I don't know why the fuck I think this is a good idea, but I tell him I'm interested, if he can help me get into the business. That's how I'll do it. That's how I did it before, right? Get in close and then...
He smiles and tells me to come back tomorrow. Since there's nothing here, he's going to leave early.
"Unless you know another girl we can bring with us?" he asks.
"No," I say, probably too fucking fast. "There's no one else here. Just a small as fuck village in the middle of nowhere. Nothing's good here."
I don't want to leave Angeline. I'm sorry, love. I need to go, though. I need to protect you. It's not just you, but someone else, too. They're going to keep doing this.
I'll find out who they all are, I promise. I don't think it'll take long. I'll kill all of these useless fucks, throw them in a pit together, and torch the entire fucking thing. They'll be dead. They'll all be dead. No one will ever get hurt again. I promise. I...
