Messenger (Mary Hades)

by Sarah Dalton

  Chapter Ten

  I walked towards Alfie like someone approaching a spooked animal. Every hair on my body stood on end, and the sight of his broken face made my stomach lurch. The night temperature dropped. Freezing cold air snaked around me, seeping into my lungs and making them burn. My hand rose to my throat, trying to stimulate some warmth in my body.

  I took another step towards Alfie. He hesitated. He seemed to flicker, like a dancing flame, then he was back to seeming solid again.

  “What happened to you?” I asked. Vapour followed my words. My voice was hoarse and raw. “Alfie, what happened to you?”

  Tears ran down his cheeks. They tracked over bruises and mingled with blood. He was a patchwork of red and blue. His red anorak was ripped.

  I took another step. As I got closer to him, the enormity of what was happening hit me in a wave. Not only was I seeing my friend, my younger brother, really, as a ghost, I was actually seeing a ghost. I was seeing a dead human being standing in front of me. As a twelve-year-old girl, I didn’t know how to process any of that information. I thought myself half mad, or worse, drawn to Satan.

  I stopped. My breath caught in my throat. A sense of dread worked its way up from my stomach. Alfie started to open his mouth and I backed away. Suddenly, this thing in front of me didn’t seem like Alfie at all anymore. But I wanted desperately to know what he was going to say. I couldn’t stop my curiosity. No matter how much my feet told me to run, I stayed there, and I faced him.

  “What is it?” I whispered. “Tell me.”

  But no words came from Alfie’s mouth. He spat soil instead. It came out in clumps and dripped down his chin. The dark brown mud mingled with the blood of his wounds, making me gag. There was so much of it. Over and over he spat out great wads of dirt, turning my stomach each time. Since that day, I have never seen anything so disgusting. Nothing has made me feel as sick as watching that beaten-up ghost of a boy vomit up wet soil like that. And I still remember his eyes. They haunt me nearly every night. I remember the pain, but most of all, I remember the innocence in his eyes. He knew he couldn’t stop it. He knew he just had to go through it, spitting and choking on that soil.

  Finally, my legs allowed me to run. I turned away and was about to run away from the boy I had wanted to find with all my heart when I ran face-first into the hard chest of Brother Bram.

  “What are you doing here, Sister Willa?” he said. He took hold of both of my arms and pushed me back from his body. Then he held me about a foot away from him. “Why are you all alone out here in the night?”

  His fingers dug deep into my flesh. Later, I would have bruises on my upper arms. “I was just taking a walk, Brother Bram. I’m on my way back to the farmhouse now.”

  I sensed a change in the air, and I didn’t need to look behind me to know that Alfie was gone. My breath was no longer steaming in the night air. The hairs on my arms were no longer standing on end. But my heart was still pumping quickly, terrified of the boy standing before me. This one was alive, but he was just as frightening. I struggled to meet his eyes. When I did, I failed to find even a glimpse of emotion in them.

  He smiled at me, and I shuddered. “No, Sister Willa. There’s something you’re not telling me. You’re hiding something.”

  I struggled against his grip. “Let me go, Bram. You’re hurting me.”

  His smile faded. “It’s Brother Bram to you. We are a family here, and you should treat me like a brother. I am your protector, don’t you understand that? I’m holding you for your own good.”

  Without his familiar smile, he was even more intimidating, and the wash of cold fear that gripped my chest also focussed my mind. I needed to change my tactic.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry, Brother,” I said.

  Bram seemed to accept this submission. He nodded, and his smile reappeared. “That’s better. Now, Sister Willa, tell me everything. I need to know so that I can help you.”

  “Thank you, Brother Bram, for your help, but there is nothing else to tell. I came for a walk after dinner because I needed the fresh air. There’s really nothing else to it.” I prayed that my voice didn’t betray the fear I was trying to hide.

  His fingers sank deeper into my flesh, making me cry out. His face came close to mine, and every trace of his usually amiable smile dissipated from his lips. He virtually snarled at me when he spoke. “Stop lying to me. I saw you talking to someone. I heard you ask thin air what happened. You said that. But there was no one there in front of you, because I looked for them. So who do you think you were talking to?”

  “N-no one,” I stammered. I’d started crying. I’d tried really hard to stop myself, but I couldn’t. The tears trickled down my nose.

  “Stop that blubbing,” Bram snapped. “Tell me who you thought you were talking to. Tell me now, or I’ll drag you all the way to Father Merciful.”

  “Alfie,” I admitted, turning my face away from Bram’s sneering mouth.

  Bram was silent for a moment. He leaned back, away from me, but his fingers never loosened their grip. His brow furrowed, as though he was concerned, or puzzled about something. Maybe both. Then he made a big show of looking all around us.

  “I don’t see Alfie here.” He shrugged. “And I didn’t see Alfie before, either. Which means you’re seeing things.”

  “It was his g-ghost,” I admitted.

  At this, Bram’s face froze. In the dim moonlight, it was hard to make out, but I could have sworn that his face had paled, as though all the blood had drained from it. “Don’t be stupid. Alfie is on God’s path. He wouldn’t be some ghost.”

  “That’s what I saw,” I said.

  Bram shook me twice, with his teeth gritted together as though he wanted to do more. “You’re evil, that’s what it is. Father Merciful warned us about you. He told us you were being tested by Satan. I didn’t believe him at first. I didn’t want to believe him. I told myself that Willa was good, Willa was one of the best of us, but I was just lying to myself, wasn’t I? I was lying to myself. You aren’t anything special at all. You’re a Satan-loving little whore. I bet you lie in bed at night and think of nothing but the devil.”

  “That’s not true.” My voice came out high-pitched and squeaky. I tried to hold back a sob, but it was too strong.

  “Oh, stop your crying. You can’t fool me. And you can’t fool Father Merciful, either. Come on.” He let go of one of my arms so that he could turn around and drag me through the fields.

  There was no point in struggling against him; Bram was too strong. I followed him, wiping away my tears with my free hand. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To Father Merciful, so he can get the demons out of you. That’s what you need now, Sister: you need the devil taken out of you.” He turned and smiled at me, but it was nothing like the smile he used to have. It was demented.

  I tried to recoil from him, but he pulled me closer. As we approached the farmhouse, I thought about screaming. But Bram must have had the same thought. He turned abruptly away so that we gave the house a wide berth. Anything I screamed now would be lost in the high winds blowing over the fields. But for good measure, Bram clamped a beefy hand over my mouth, forcing me to breathe through my nose.

  The constriction panicked me. I found it difficult to breathe through my nose. I felt as though I wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

  “It’s such a shame they got you. But I saw how you tempted Satan. I saw it. No one else would have, but I did. I knew there was something bad in you, just like there is in Brother Jackal. I thought to myself that no one could spend so much time with that boy and not be in league with the devil. Are you ashamed, Sister? Of the evil that lurks within you?” he said. “It needs to be cleansed. Everything needs to be cleansed.”

  He yanked me on. My face was boiling hot from his hand pressed against my skin. I’d begun to make a quiet whimpering noise out of fear. What did he mean, ‘cleansed’? What was going to happen to me? I didn’t know what to do. I was a skinny twelve-year-
old getting dragged around by a bulky seventeen-year-old boy. I couldn’t fight back. I wasn’t anywhere near strong enough.

  I tripped over the uneven ground, half-falling forward. Bram was rough with me. He pulled me up straight, hurting my arm with his large hand.

  We walked around the farmhouse, staying back in the shadows so that no one could see us if they looked out the window. Soon, Father Merciful’s large motor home came into view. It was a large white RV with the words ‘Congregation of Angels’ spray-painted on the side in navy blue. I saw that the light was on inside, and I began to hope. Brother Bram was deranged, but I still believed that Father Merciful was a good person deep down. I did have doubts about him: I doubted his connection with God, and I was angry with how he had left Alfie out there all alone, but it wasn’t his fault Alfie had died, and he was still our leader. He was still my father and I loved him. I knew he would protect me.

  Bram dropped the hand he’d held over my mouth so he could knock on the door. I sucked in a lungful of air.

  Brother Jacob opened the door, which didn’t surprise me. He looked at Bram first, then at me, and then back to Bram. His eyes were droopier than usual. His face was slack. There was something off about him. The hope that had blossomed in my chest now began to fade. “She’s been tempted by Satan,” Bram said. “She needs to see Father.”

  Jacob shrugged. “Whatever. Bring her in.”

  Bram pushed me up to the steps and into the van. The first thing I noticed was how hazy the air was. The second thing I noticed was the strange cigarettes littered around the tables. There was some tin foil and white powder, too. I didn’t know what it was then, but I know now.

  “Daughter,” Father Merciful said. He looked at me with hooded eyes. He was leaning forward on his seat. His clothes were creased and his hair was dishevelled. It frightened me to see him like that. “You’ve come to me. Sit down.”

  There was a groan from a sofa across the small room. A body twitched and moved. Father Merciful leaned over and stroked the figure’s back, making a soothing noise. I glanced nervously around me. The motor home seemed smaller on the inside, but it was still nicer than our living conditions. It was clean and everything was new, from the furniture to the kitchen utensils. There were doors leading to what I presumed to be bedrooms and a bathroom.

  “I’ve brought her to you because she has been tempted by Satan,” Bram said. He filled the small space with his broad shoulders. I rubbed my arm where he had grabbed me. “She needs to be taught a lesson.”

  Bram’s eyes trailed over me. It was at that moment that I realised I was in real danger. This wasn’t the same fear as before. I was scared of Bram, and scared of what might happen, but I hadn’t been scared for my life. But when those three men all turned and stared at me, I realised something was very, very wrong.

  Father Merciful rubbed his nose and looked me up and down. “I knew Satan would get you. Girls that pretty are always taken.”

  “She was talking to him,” Bram said. “He pretended to be Alfie.”

  Father Merciful met Bram’s eyes. “Alfie?” They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Then Father frowned and shook his head. “No, no, no. That wasn’t Alfie, my child. You need to learn how to recognise evil.” He leaned back into his chair. “Jacob, why don’t you hold her still so we can cleanse her of the evil?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Brother Jacob pinned my arms down at my sides. Father Merciful didn’t move from his seat; he only leaned forward and placed one arm on his knee, as though assuming a reclining pose for a photograph.

  There was another groan and some movement from the sofa. The woman there turned over and moaned. Aunty Cassie. She had been in here all this time, taking Father Merciful’s drugs and being kept in a stupor. When I realised that, I started to cry because I realised that Father Merciful wasn’t a good person at all. He was rotten. And if he was a bad person, that meant everything he said about me was wrong. I wasn’t evil. I wasn’t staying on God’s path by following him. I wasn’t being tempted by Satan at all. And worse, I had seen Alfie, and he was dead. But had he been murdered?

  “Brother Bram, I think you should show Willa how we cleanse ourselves of Satan,” Father Merciful said.

  Bram approached me without a trace of emotion on his face. The smile had gone. His eyes were blank, and so was the rest of his face. I’ve come to realise now that Bram was a sociopath. He didn’t feel the way we feel. He was devoid of empathy. As for Father Merciful, I guess he was a megalomaniac. I still think he really believed that he could talk to God, but it was more than likely the result of all the drugs he took. Jacob? Well, he was just a thug in the thrall of Father’s charisma. He did everything he was told, like a good soldier boy.

  I remember the burst of pain the first time his fist struck my face, but more than that, I remember the shock. It was the first time I had ever been hit, and it surprised me so much that I couldn’t breathe. Then came the next hit, and the next. Bram struck me in the stomach, then again, and then in the face one more time. Blood burst from my nose. Somewhere between the fifth and sixth punch I began to fight for my life. I writhed in Jacob’s arms. I pulled and pushed and squirmed in between each hit. I forced myself to stay conscious when I so badly wanted to give in. I forced myself to breathe and to ignore the pain. I focussed. I stared deep into Bram’s eyes and stayed focussed on surviving.

  The caravan door burst open. Bram paused, spinning on his heel. Even Aunty Cassie turned to see what was happening.

  It was Jack, holding a long piece of firewood. He was tiny compared to Bram and Jacob, but there was a look of pure determination in his eyes. He struck Bram around the head with the plank before jamming it into Jacob’s side. Jacob’s grip on me loosened. I fell forward onto my knees, spitting blood. But I had only a moment’s respite, because Bram grabbed hold of Jack.

  Jack looked at me with wild eyes. He screamed, “Run!”

  My blood pumped so hard I heard it drumming in my ears. Thud-thud thud-thud. I pulled myself to my feet, ignoring the intense pain from my bruised body. I obeyed Jack. I ran out of the motor home, tripping down the steps onto the grass, and I ran as fast as I could.

  I’d had my entire world pulled down before me. Everything I’d thought was safe had crumbled right in front of my eyes. The adults, the family I thought was there to protect me, had just hurt and terrified me. I wanted nothing more than to run to the farmhouse and into the arms of Mother Ariel, the woman who had raised me, but I couldn’t trust any of them anymore, and that included her. That’s why, when I saw the red anorak, I followed it. I had nowhere else to go.

  It moved faster than Alfie ever had in life. It didn’t so much run as float across the fields. I followed, staggering over the uneven ground, panting, sweating, struggling. Behind me there was the sound of voices, and I heard a door slam. My mind raced with possibilities: Father Merciful’s caravan door slamming as they chased me into the night? Jack escaping and searching for me, scouring the darkness with his serious eyes? When I thought of Jack getting caught by Bram, I wanted to be sick. But I couldn’t lose the time. I had to keep running. I had to keep going.

  My vision blurred from sweat and fear, but still I followed that red anorak as it took me further out onto the moors. Soon my thighs were burning against the uphill struggle towards Nooman’s Point, and that’s when my heart dropped. I knew exactly where Alfie was taking me, and I had a good guess why. I wanted to cry, but there wasn’t time. There was a shuffling of grass behind me and I knew that someone was chasing me. What I didn’t know was who it was. So I prayed to Alfie. I asked him to keep me safe.

  Sometimes in my dreams I still think I’m there on the moors. I close my eyes and smell the night sky. I see the occasional bat flitting through the moonlight. I feel the sharp smack of the grass against my shins. I imagine my skirt tangled up around my legs as it was that night. It was the longest night of my life, and one that will be etched on my bones when my body rots away. It’s deep down ins
ide me, festering there, and always will be. It was the night I grew up, that I lost my innocence.

  “Sister Willa!”

  I froze. It was Bram’s voice, laden with a sickening, soothing quality. Why hadn’t I heard it before? Why hadn’t I recognised how fake he always sounded? But most of all, why didn’t anyone else hear it?

  “Willa, I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice was coated in honey. I almost believed him.

  Almost.

  I hurried across the moors, searching for a place to hide. Then I saw the red anorak. I steadied my breathing and hurried towards Alfie’s ghost. The pale boy turned around as I caught up with him. His eyes shone through the darkness. His mouth was a grim line in his broken face. He didn’t say a word; he merely pointed to a small concave between two rocks. There was just enough space for me to squeeze between them. The ground was damp and mildewed. The air seemed trapped there, and it smelled of decay. But it was the best place to hide that I could see. It was so tucked into the landscape that I hadn’t even noticed it on the day we’d searched for Alfie. I turned to my right, where I could see Nooman’s Point stretching out over the precipitous drop below. I had to be careful to stay put. I didn’t want to get any closer to the edge.

  When I turned back, Alfie was so close to me that I felt the chill of his presence on my skin. I saw his ethereal face up close to mine.

  “Don’t go to him,” he whispered. “He’s a bad man. He’ll hurt me.”

  I inhaled in shock. The image of the little boy from my nightmare popped into my head. Keep me away from the bad man. Of course, when Bram had turned on me, I had suspected that he might have hurt Alfie, but I’d never thought that he could have hurt other boys, too. What if Bram had murdered them both? What if he’d done it because he enjoyed it?

  My stomach roiled. I folded myself up behind that rock, making myself as tiny as I could. I screwed my eyes tight and started to pray. But somehow, my heart wasn’t in the prayer anymore. I was too confused as to who God was, and what I believed. Instead, I whispered to myself: Blue like me, blue like you, blue like the sky, blue like the sea. I’d never seen the sea, but I wanted to. I wanted to see the world, and not be stuck in this commune with these people for the rest of my life. But part of me didn’t expect to even see morning.