Satan's Breath

by Temple Madison

  * * * *

  “The name’s Sonny Edwards,” the good-looking man said as he looked down into the attractive face of his next victim.

  Chapter 13

  Sleeping shadows formed in Blaze’s mind. The ugly things stretched, growing bigger as they oozed through holes in the floor. They peered at her from the corners, crept slowly along the floor, finally rising up over her until they took the shape of a dark room, a tattered curtain that moved, and the hated silhouette of her uncle sneaking through it.

  She recognized the crude plank floors, the bare walls, and the bed with rusted springs that squeaked as if in pain. Suddenly, the haunting moan of Satan’s Breath came gusting through the cracked windowpane, bringing with it the stench of death.

  Blaze backed up against the headboard of her squeaking bed as the shadow came nearer. Her gaze anchored on him, fear mounting inside her, squeezing her throat, causing it to close, causing her to gasp for air!

  All at once, her young girl’s sobs became desperate as the shadow, the large black thing came closer, looming over her, eclipsing everything behind it. She recoiled when his hands brutally tugged on her gown and opened her legs.

  She struggled, but there was no escape. His hands were like a vise as they held her in place. His heavy body, his obscene words whispered wet and ugly in her ear. She heard herself whimper, and was about to lift her voice in a scream when suddenly she got loose somehow, reached under her pillow, and whipped out a knife that was almost bigger than she was. With a madness that had taken control, she began stabbing at the threat, feeling his wet, warm, sticky blood as it leaked onto her tattered gown. Suddenly she heard a scream coming from somewhere—from somewhere ten years ago! The sound was so loud in her head, she broke through the vision that haunted her, and lunged forward.

  She sat sobbing while lowering her head into her hands. It had happened again, and it was getting worse, so much worse. It was so damned real, like she was fourteen again!

  She ran her fingers through her thick, kinky red hair, and then lifted her gaze and looked around her bedroom for the first time since she awoke. A sense of relief swept over her that she was no longer in that shadowed room, that she was free. But was she free? She knew she wasn’t. Not really. She was still subject to attack night after night.

  But this was the first time she’d remembered killing him.

  She’d put off seeing someone, thinking that her problem was different, that no one could help her. God, she was lost, so very lost!

  All at once, she heard a noise and looked toward the kitchen. It was Erik. A sense of dread filled her when she thought of him. She knew she couldn’t hold on to him forever if she didn’t do something. Just then, she heard dishes rattling and slowly dragged herself out of bed and ran a hot shower.

  When she felt the hot spray hit her like tiny bullets, the compulsion grew inside her, and she began rubbing her skin until it was almost raw.

  She was a woman now. Her uncle was dead. She was light years away from that dark, hot windy night, yet she could still feel his frenzied hands pressing, squeezing, groping, his face leering down at her, his drunken words, and it was almost like being raped all over again!

  Walking like a zombie, she went into the kitchen. She jumped when Erik came up behind her and gently put his hands around her waist. When the plate she carried slipped out of her hands and hit the floor, she began crying uncontrollably.

  “Blaze, what in hell’s the matter?”

  “That plate,” she sobbed as she looked down at it.

  Erik looked down at the undamaged plate, and then back up at her. “Nothing’s wrong with it, babe.” He leaned down and picked it up and showed it to her. “See? It didn’t break.”

  Like a raving lunatic she grabbed it out of his hand and threw it against a wall, but the plate fell to the floor, still intact. She ran up to it, stomped on it, then picked it up and threw it again, but again it fell to the floor undamaged.

  She couldn’t stop herself. Anger at the plate was red hot inside her. She leaned over and grabbed at it angrily, took the edge and pounded it into the sink, then struck the edge against the counter, but still it wouldn’t break.

  “Blaze!” Erik yelled, reaching out and catching her hand that flailed wildly. “What in God’s name is wrong with you?”

  Blaze fell against him crying.

  “What is it, honey? What’s wrong?”

  “Do you see that damned plate?” she sobbed, pointing toward it as if pointing at a horrible, unknown entity.

  He looked at where the plate was laying. “Yeah, I see it. So what?”

  “I’ve had those damned dishes for five friggin’ years and not a chip or a break of any kind. They traveled in the trunk of my car from L.A. to Savannah with all kinds of heavy things piled on top of them, but nothing. As I drove, I could hear them rattling, and knew when I arrived I’d have to buy new ones. But you know what?” she sobbed, looking up at him. “When I opened the trunk, there they were staring up at me. Perfect, as usual. Oh, everything else was broken, but not those babies. It was as if out of rebellion, they refused to break. Not even a tiny little crack or a handle off the side of a cup. I’m so damned tired of looking at those friggin’ dishes, I could scream! What the hell are they made of? I’ve pounded them, dropped them, done everything I know to get rid of them, but those evil dishes will be here when you and I disappear off the face of the friggin’ earth!”

  Erik smiled indulgently. “Isn’t that why you bought them in the first place? To last?”

  “Sure, but my God, they’re like something out of a Stephen King novel!”

  “So dramatic.” Erik snickered, and then gathered her in his arms and nuzzled her neck.

  Her misery suddenly vanished when she felt his soft lips. “I guess I do sound pretty awful. I’m sorry for acting like such a baby, but I haven’t been sleeping too well lately. Hell, I’m beginning to hate to go to bed.”

  “Speaking of bed,” he whispered into the ear he was nibbling, “how about it?”

  She pulled away. “Erik, you promised.”

  “Blaze,” Erik began, impatiently, “I’m not your uncle, okay?” He lifted her chin and made her look at him, and then kissed her softly. “Come on, babe, let’s give it a try, huh?”

  “I want to, Erik, so much,” she said, her words muffled as his lips teased hers.

  Finally, Erik leaned over, picked her up, and carried her to the bed. He placed her gently on the bed, pulled off his robe, and then slipped in beside her. He whispered a few calming words as he gently lifted the thin sweatshirt she wore and caressed her breasts, his passion growing.

  Not being able to keep it back, a guttural moan slipped from his throat as he began to lick and draw on her nipples. He became encouraged when she returned his kisses, so taking his time, he gently forced her thighs apart and mounted her.

  Blaze could feel his wet, jerking breath against her ear and felt him harden against her. As if on cue, her body began to stiffen. She tried to keep the frightening pictures back, the sound of grunts and the feel of her uncle’s gnawing teeth from haunting her, but the obscene thing pushing against her was growing so god-awfully large and long that she could feel herself choking.

  Air!

  She needed air!

  When Erik looked down at her, it wasn’t his face she saw, but the leering face of her uncle. Oh, God, she was back in the dark room again, the moaning wind, the feel of her uncle’s hands. She couldn’t stop herself. She began screaming and struggling. She turned her head quickly one way, then the other to escape his sweaty face, his sour breath. When she couldn’t stand anymore, she suddenly bolted up and pushed him away, crying and gulping for air.

  Erik jumped up off the bed and began putting on his clothes, each movement angry and abrupt.

  “I’m sorry, Erik,” she rasped, her voice breaking with emotion. Watching him dress, she waited for him to say something, to yell at her, anything. “What are you doing? Please, say something!”
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  When he was dressed, he pulled his bag down from the shelf of the closet and began speaking with a strained voice that he fought to keep soft. “The only thing wrong with you, Blaze, is that you’re still a fourteen-year-old baby. You’re a child in a woman’s body.”

  Blaze looked at the bag, the clothes he angrily threw into it. “But, Erik, you haven’t given us a chance. You said…”

  He stopped for a moment and looked at her impatiently. “I did, dammit, I gave our relationship every chance, but it didn’t work.” Turning, he grabbed things from drawers and flung them into the bag. “Maybe if you would help—”

  “I will, I promise, Erik.”

  He looked at her sadly. “I’ve heard it all before, Blaze. The same words, the same tears, the same promises. It’s time to bring this stupid farce to an end.” After zipping up his bag he turned and started for the front door. “You know where I am. When you decide to grow up and start acting like a woman, call me.”

  “Erik, don’t go, please! I’ll die, I swear I will!” Blaze sobbed, desperation in her voice.

  Erik stopped dead still, not facing her, then finally turned and looked back at her. “Don’t you understand? I can’t do this. I’ve had it! I can’t stay in this apartment watching you day in and day out, and taking one cold shower after another.”

  “Once more, Erik. Let’s try just once more, please!” she begged, tears flooding her eyes. “I’ll try. I promise—”

  “It won’t work, Blaze. Can’t you see that? Hell, you parade around in front of me with nothing on and expect me to keep my distance. Who in hell do you think I am, Superman?”

  Slowly his hungry gaze crawled along her perfect body, first to her jutting breasts that bounced every time she moved, and then along her sensuous curves, to her perfect legs. Feeling himself getting overheated he quickly cut his gaze away as if embarrassed. “I swear if I stay here, I’ll lose my friggin’ mind. I’m telling you, Blaze, if this is what your uncle had to put up with day after day, no wonder he raped you!”

  The damning words were like a bomb going off, and the room suddenly filled with a heavy silence.

  Erik lowered his head, hating himself. “God, I’m sorry, Blaze,” he whispered, the hollow words hanging suspended in the heavy silence to echo, to rattle, then grow slowly into a wall, a monstrous wall that stretched horribly between them. “But I want to be your lover, not just your goddamned roommate.”

  “Then go!” Blaze yelled, her sobs choking her. “Who the hell needs you?”

  After he’d gone, Blaze stood there for several seconds, her gaze still anchored on the door he had slammed through, the finality of the sound echoing in her ears.

  Suddenly, an ache filled her. Erik was gone. She’d never see him again, yet oddly enough she had no more tears to shed. She felt only shock, a numbing sensation that spread through her senses at the last words he’d said. They still whirled crazily through her mind.

  If this was what your uncle had to put up with, no wonder he raped you!

  No wonder he raped you!

  No wonder he raped you!

  No wonder he raped you!

  In so many words, he’d said it was her fault, that she’d seduced her uncle. How could he say that? How could he believe for a moment that it was her uncle that was the victim?

  Now, as she thought back at that awful time, the pictures she conjured up in her mind were not haunting memories, but came at her insistence. It was a time when she was growing up in front of him. It was hot in Georgia in the summertime, and their shack wasn’t air-conditioned. She dressed in shorts and halter-tops, and could see him watching, staring. He sat around in his T-shirt, and because that hot Georgian wind seemed to sting her skin like tiny flames of fire, she bathed a lot.

  Maybe it was her fault, she thought. But she hadn’t known, couldn’t have known. She was only a child. She had no clue about the feelings men had, or how easily they were aroused.

  Suddenly, it dawned on Blaze that, like Erik had said, she was still a child, still arousing men. But now it was behind the safety of a soundproof booth. She couldn’t let one of them touch her, she couldn’t, she couldn’t!

  * * * *

  Blaze paced nervously in the reception area while smoking a cigarette. How had she wound up in a place like this? Erik leaving her might have been the springboard, but she knew the real reason she was here. It was because she was tired. Tired of struggling, tired of waking up nights in a cold sweat, tired of her uncle’s ugly face floating above her, tired of never having a man in her life, tired of everything!

  She knew that it might be too late for her and Erik, but whether it was or not, she knew now that she couldn’t live like this anymore. She couldn’t let herself continue to be haunted by a dead man. Her priority now was to help that little fourteen-year-old girl who wanted desperately to grow up and be the woman she was meant to be.

  She hoped it wasn’t too late.

  She was even tenser at this moment than in her counseling session a few days earlier when she had spilled her guts. She’d told this stranger, this Dr. Stone, everything about herself. Everything! From her favorite kind of toothpaste, right down to the night she had wielded a knife, a knife she had somehow used to kill her uncle Ralph.

  Now, today she would sit opposite this woman who knew all her secrets. God, how could she face her? She’d never told anyone. How could she sit perfectly still and hear the doctor discuss her problem calmly, as if it had happened to someone else? Would the doctor say she was crazy? That she would never be a normal woman? Never be able to be with any man, especially Erik, without recalling that dark night when Satan’s Breath roamed, killing everyone in its wake?

  Once she had counted herself lucky to have escaped Satan’s Breath, but now she knew the truth. She was dead as well, had been all these years. As dead as if she’d stopped breathing, as dead as if her heart no longer hammered and thrashed, as dead as if the blood had stopped flowing through her veins. Who was this monster that had taken over her body? This monster that couldn’t stand the touch of men. She wanted the old Blaze Alexander back. To love, to live, and to freely enjoy Erik’s arms, his kisses. She whirled around when she heard the receptionist speak.

  “Ms. Alexander, the doctor just buzzed and said she was being detained, but would be with you shortly.”

  “Y-Yes, thank you,” Blaze said with a strained smile, and then turned away. She looked around at the room that was so clean, it almost squeaked when she walked across the floor. Shining wood and floors, attractive furniture that looked as if it hadn’t been used that much, and even a crystal ashtray sat clean and shining beside a stack of magazines that had been fanned out.

  On the blank wall behind the receptionist’s desk, there was some kind of giant chrome blob that represented an ink blot. On the left was a hall with the words ‘Offices of Dr. Marsha Stone’ inscribed up over the entrance, while on the other side, another hall, and the same lettering that read ‘Offices of Dr. Gerald Spencer.’ The look was very classy, modern, and had a clean, uncluttered look about it.

  Suddenly, a voice intruded on her thoughts. Blaze turned and saw Dr. Stone at the receptionist’s desk writing something on a pad and talking to the receptionist in a soft, feminine tone. All at once, she looked up and smiled.

  “Ms. Alexander. Hello. I’m very happy to see you. Come right in and we’ll get started.”

  “Yes, of course.” Blaze reached down and deposited her cigarette in the crystal ashtray that she hated to mess up. She felt misplaced, out of synch somehow, and found herself dreading what was coming as she followed the woman into her suite of offices. But the moment she entered, the cold atmosphere changed from crisp office formality to a comfortable homey setting. There was no cold leather couch, or steel filing cabinets, no cold, typical office supply desk, chairs, or ugly drapes. Everything was of the finest taste. The surroundings made her able to relax with the woman in the impeccable rose-colored suit, light, airy scent, and smiling, attractive face.<
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  “Won’t you have a seat and make yourself comfortable?”

  “Blaze looked around the beautiful office. “Your office is very attractive. I almost feel like I’m in my own living room.”

  “Thank you.” The smiling woman then leaned over her desk and pushed a buzzer. “Wilma, please bring in some tea.” The doctor looked over at Blaze. “Or would you rather have coffee, or maybe a Coke? I believe we even have hot chocolate.”

  “No,” Blaze smiled, “tea’s fine.”

  “Make it tea, Wilma.”

  Picking up a folder, she slipped on a pair of glasses and looked through it while she gently pushed herself away from the edge of her desk and ambled toward the chair opposite Blaze. When her thoughts were refreshed, she slipped off her half glasses and turned her attention back to her patient with a gentle smile. “May I call you Blaze?”

  Blaze nodded. “Yes, please. By the way…Doctor—”

  “Yes?”

  “I just wanted to remind you that before I came here, you stressed confidentiality…” Blaze’s words faded when doubts began to assail her.

  “Blaze,” the doctor reached over and patted her hands, “there’s only one other person who knows anything about your case, and that’s Doctor Jerry Spencer.”

  “But I thought—”

  “Dr. Spencer is something of a confidant. A sounding board, if you will. We help each other. When I’m unavailable, he takes my patients, and vice versa. At this point, he only knows what happened to you, a little about your background, but he doesn’t know your name, or who you are. To him you are as anonymous as a case in a textbook. It’s necessary, sometimes, to discuss a case, advise each other. But that’s all it is, believe me.”

  “Thank you. It’s just that if this got out—”