Authors: Angela Alsaleem
Aludra snipped away more hair with her gory scissors. Red ran down the nun’s thighs. Bruises covered her body. Razor cuts dribbled down her back and belly. Bite marks decorated her arms. The Achilles tendon on her left ankle was severed. She trembled, her head rolling in her weakened state.
“Why?” she continued to beg, tears flowing from eyes swollen shut.
“Come now, my little plaything. Why so sad?”
“Fuck you!”
“Now, what kind of language is that for a woman such as yourself? What would your God think of you now?”
“You fucking cunt! Fuck you! God will punish you for this. You will burn in Hell. You will burn and rot forever!” Her voice oozed with venom as she screamed obscenities. Aludra continued snipping her hair. The abandoned strands lay at her feet. “The Devil is in you.”
“No. Your hate is in me. Your hate makes me stronger. I know no Devil. I know no God. But I have ripened your spirit, I can see that. You are ready.” Now that her student’s head was mostly bald, she inserted the sharp tip of her scissors into one of the many gashes on the nun’s back and turned the blade. Snip, snip, snip. The desperate woman wailed, pleading for Aludra to just kill her. Freshets of life ran down her pale skin and covered her buttocks.
Aludra was about to keep going but stopped in mid-snip, listening. Rory was close and getting closer. For some reason the spirit was headed in her direction. She stood back from her toy and closed her eyes, concentrating all her thoughts, all her energy, on the approaching spirit.
“Feel me,” she whispered. “Feel me; see me; know me.”
In the darkness the most beautiful sounds of agony rose, masking all other snippets of noise, drowning out the bound woman’s misery. Aludra’s mind twisted with the anguish. She threw her head back and laughed as bats swarmed overhead, flocking in Rory’s direction.
The nun screamed louder, pissing herself in her terror. “Ohgodohgodohgod,” she mumbled under her breath, the words rising with her suffering.
“She sees me now,” Aludra said and laughed again, a booming, haunting sound in the darkness. “Ha.” She kissed her plaything’s cheek. “She sees me.”
“Fuck you,” the nun panted in retort.
Aludra regained focus on her current task. “Yes. You are ready now.” She grabbed her student’s head in both hands and twisted it hard. The nun’s neck cracked. As she sagged against the tree trunk, bright light flashed from the sky. Long, lightening tendrils ripped the savage spirit from the body. It shouted curses at Aludra as the light sucked it into the spirit world.
Ecstatic, Aludra rushed toward Rory, a girlish bounce in her step.
* * *
More intense than before, the visions hit Camilla again, pummeling her mind with now-familiar pain and fear. Again she saw that hateful face laughing, delighting in the pain she inflicted. That green-eyed demon’s face. Camilla died and died and died again and again. The visions repeated, throbbing through her mind like a nauseous cramp.
Camilla flung the pulp that used to be her eyes from her hands and wiped her palms on her thighs. Something brushed against her face, her arms, tangled in her hair. She saw everything like an echo, the world pulsing to her with the sound of each screech she heard. Libitina appeared like a white shadow as she turned and then fled. She saw bats surround her. Through their sight she saw the trees, the wolves, herself: a hideous, trembling mess, the torn skin on her face standing out from her otherwise smooth features.
She sobbed, clenched palms covering her black empty sockets. Even with her hands over her face she saw everything as if she wasn’t physically blind. The only color in her world came from the acid green cord extending from her body. She heard laughter in the distance, but couldn’t move.
Alone. Libitina had abandoned her. She waited, seeing the wolves corralling around her. She didn’t care. Images of herself and her macabre world shot into her mind from various angles. The bats stayed, fluttering over her body, relentless in their goal to make her see.
Part Two
The Answer
Chapter Ten
Aludra gazed in awe across the flowing stream. Bats swarmed the spirit as she cried. She had no eyes in her head, but appeared to be crushing them in her hands. Aludra smiled. She’d caused this suffering. She knew this. When the spirit stood, Aludra ran back to her dead nun.
The nun’s bound body taunted her with its lifelessness. She growled and snatched up a stick. Each time she jabbed the dead flesh, she heard its squishy protest.
“See what I’m doing to you,” she yelled at the sky. “You hate me so much, come back and stop me. Show me what power your God has now.” When nothing happened, Aludra grimaced. A fluttery, panicked feeling clenched her guts. She beat the body, kicked it, punched it, stabbed it with the scissors. The mutilated flesh did nothing in retaliation. The sky did not open above her to release the angry soul.
“What did you call me? A bitch? You’re the bitch. And fuck you, too.” She screamed the words in the direction her student’s spirit had traveled when drawn into the night. Bats fluttered and screeched nearby. Rory screamed in the distance. That would have to satisfy her for now. She sank to the ground, contemplating. She wanted to continue playing with bodies but knew she needed to capture Rory. Time. She needed more time. However, capturing Rory would allow her to play whenever she wanted for however long she wanted. The long-term benefits of sticking to the plan far outweighed the immediate gratification she’d get from playing now. Seizing the spirit needed to be handled delicately. She’d been told since birth that she would be able to draw the spirit to her, that she somehow needed to make it follow her. There was no way to bind it, to force it. But every time she shoved her thoughts to that end, Rory ran away. Like magnets, they were supposed to compel rather than repel.
Exhausted from teaching and chasing, Aludra slept, lulled into dreams by Rory’s screams.
* * *
Libitina charged through the forest, sobbing, Cerberus clutched to her chest.
“Oh God,” she moaned. “What the fuck just happened? What the hell is she?” Darkness hindered her sight and she stumbled, tired and afraid. Her backpack bounced as she sped up and flinched at shadows. Bats flew overhead in the opposite direction.
“You’re stupid, Libitina,” she said. “Such a fuck-up. Always a fuck-up. What the hell were you thinking following a dead woman you picked up from the morgue? Why the fuck did you pick her up anyway? Should’ve just gotten the body from the cemetery. Then we wouldn’t be having this problem now, would we? You always fuck things up.”
She went on scolding, muttering under her breath, seeking confirmation from her dog, until she reached a house.
Maybe this meant she’d find a town soon. The house crouched among the growth, dark, but peaceful. The flowers she could see outside looked well maintained and the trees provided dense coverage. She could sleep close to the building to gain shelter without being seen and hopefully not heard.
“And don’t you start barking,” she warned Cerberus.
Without argument, he curled up at her feet and went to sleep.
“Seems you’re just as tired as I am,” she whispered. Sleep overcame her before she had time to feel discomfort from the lumpy ground.
* * *
A bat flapped madly at Camilla’s face, stuck in her hair. She made no attempt to remove it. The nightmares hit her again and again altering her reality. She became so many women. A new face was added, one who had endured far more suffering than the others, one who hated deeper than the others. In this one’s perspective, she called on God again and again, only to be ignored, forsaken.
Hidden in a cloud of bats she continued her journey, the wolves white shadows at her side, ghost hounds of her eternal night. The multitude of bats sending out sonar chirps made sight strange to Camilla’s eyeless vision. The world looked like a black and white picture without the finer details, all things illuminated shapes in dark space.
Every few minutes the visions flooded her being. Every few minutes she endured horrendous torture. But, rather than follow the acid green cord to its source, she ran away. Rather than wanting to feed from the woman responsible for her nightmares, she felt repulsed. She sensed that something terrible would happen if she got too close.
She felt drawn in a different direction, maybe toward town; she didn’t care so long as it was far away from what followed. She tried to run, to flee the horrors behind her, hoping that if she created enough distance between herself and the monster woman, she might outrun the alternating deaths plaguing her. Her stiff legs hindered her.
She glanced behind her, sure she’d see the green-eyed beast just over her shoulder. Her feet slapped tarmac. Before she had time to register the growl of an engine hurtling toward her, the truck slammed into her. It sent her flying.
* * *
Two days. Tears coursed a clean track down Bill’s grimy face as he gripped his steering wheel with his pudgy hands.
“That two-timing bitch,” he cried. “That slut!” Dirt caked his fingers and clothes. “Why did she make me do this? Why? What did I ever do to that stupid fucking whore?” The venomous words ate at his mind.
Two days. She was gone. No more lies. No more late nights. No more phone calls… dead air… click. No more slut.
His headlights cut twin halos through the dark as he sped uphill toward his house. The road twisted. He maneuvered his vehicle along the curves, vision blurred from hate-induced tears. He came up and around a sharp corner. Just as Bill sniffed and focused on the road, he saw a naked and bloody woman sprint in front of his car and stop.
He hit her. Her eyeless and torn face smashed against the glass, leaving smears of blood. Bats hit the windshield making starred cracks. Then she was gone, up and over the top of his truck.
He slammed on the brakes.
“What the fuck!” he screamed as his truck screeched to a halt. Heart pounding, he swallowed hard, mouth dry, and got out.
* * *
From the road, Camilla watched the shadowed truck stop in front of her. The door opened. The silhouetted man fell out.
“Oh no, oh God,” the man whined. “What have I done? Shit.” He got back into the truck. The engine started again, and the vehicle disappeared into the black.
His hand hit her face. She laughed.
“You are so weak, Bill. You can’t even hit me right.”
“Fuck you!” he yelled and punched her, smashing her cheekbone.
Pain exploded in her face. Blood dripped from her chin. From the floor, she held her cheek and began to laugh again. “Come on, pussy-man. Is that the best you can do?”
“Shut up!” He came at her again, hands raised, grasping for her throat.
Blocking him, she said, “You know what? While he fucked me, every time he fucked me, I thought about how small your prick is, thought about how
good
it felt to have a real man inside me. You’re nothing but a pussy-man.”
“Shut up!” He lunged again. She pushed him away. He flew backwards and landed on their bed. She jumped on top of him and pinned him down, blond hair hanging in her face.
“You feel this?” She ground her crotch against his. “Feel these?” She put his hands on her breasts. “He loved to squeeze these, loved to feel this over his manly dick. You couldn’t compare to him.”
“Why?” Bill cried.
“Because you’re a pussy-man. No, wait. I’m wrong. Sorry, Bill. You’re a pussy-boy. I can’t even call you a man. A real man wouldn’t let his wife screw around behind his back.”
“How long?” he managed through tears. “How long have you been seeing him?”
“You mean how long has he been fucking me? Since before we were married, pussy-boy.”
“You bitch!” he yelled and hurled her across the room.
Laughing, she pulled herself into a sitting position only able to see out of one eye. The side with the broken cheekbone had swelled shut. He came at her too fast for her to catch him, though. His hands were around her throat before she could fend him off.
“I’m going to do to you what I should’ve done a long time ago, Tracy.”
“Try,” she croaked. “You… don’t… have… the… balls.” She thrashed around, hitting his arms, kicking his thighs from the outside. And then it hit her. She’d lost. Anger surged through her from the depths of her being. He was actually going to kill her. The pussy-boy had some balls after all.
She grinned and spat in his face.
His hands clenched harder over her throat, cutting off her air, her ability to talk. Blood filled her head, making her eyes bulge and ache. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth. A loud ringing filled her ears as the world turned gray around the edges.
He screamed in her face, but she couldn’t hear him. From what she could see, it looked like he was saying how much he loved her. His tears hit her cheeks. God, she wanted to beat the shit out of him, show him how it should be done. As she died she managed one last smile, just to show him how little he meant to her, how much he couldn’t hurt her.
Camilla grinned. She’d make the bastard pay. The green cord curled around her side and extended from her back as if it were a part of her. Another cord, yellow, extended in the direction the white-silhouetted man had driven. Steam curled from the yellow cord as it pulsed with hatred. Nothing near as powerful as her green cord but she would be satisfied.
With some effort, she stood again. Her head rested on her shoulder, neck popped out at a strange angle. The rest of her body seemed fine however. Though her neck was broken, she could still move as normal. She shuffled along, dragging her left leg, bats hiding her in their cloud. Again the vision hit. She became the fighting woman full of hate. How dare he violate her, rape her mind in this way. He would pay.