by Tillie Cole
The room was dark and smelled different from anything I had known. Hmm? Perhaps leather and an oil of some description?
Glancing to the right, barely opening my eyelids, I noticed a man stood at a long table. He had long brown hair and he was taking instruments or pills from a black bag. His back was turned away from me and there was a picture on the back of his leather vest. For several seconds I struggled to make out the image, but then my stomach fell as recognition hit—Satan!
I controlled my breathing, striving to keep calm, trying to focus my fuzzy mind. Thankful for small mercies, I rejoiced that he had not noticed I was awake. But then he turned to face me and his short brown beard came into view.
A disciple…?
My mind was a foggy mess as I tried to remember why I was in such a strange place. It had been the day of my twenty-third birthday… my wedding day to Prophet David… but… but… something happened to make me run. My heart pumped my blood like white rapids within my chest, the currents burning under my skin. What was it? What did I see…? A gate… a body… my… No!
Bella!
Bella… in that cell… dying in the cell… beaten, bloodied… neglected. She had told me to run as she took her last breath. I could not save her. I ran… but… but… I could not remember the rest.
My breaths came in short, sharp pants and I tried to move my hand, but something was poking into my flesh.
My fingers began tapping nervously. I could not remember what had happened to me, what led me to this bed, unconscious, but I knew I must leave, flee this place.
I began counting. One… two… three… four… five… and inched my fingers to the sheets blanketing my body. I was wearing some form of robe. Six… seven… eight… nine… I took a deep breath.
Finally reaching ten, I slowly lifted my body, my limbs feeling too heavy. Kicking my legs over the side of the bed, I pulled the robe tight around my waist to protect my modesty and landed on shaky feet, a sharp pain ripping up my left calf.
Abruptly, the strange man spun around; my sudden movement obviously shocked him. He dropped whatever was in his hands and he inched forward, palms thrust out, surprise clear on his face. My eyes darted around the room: a large set of wooden drawers, one single black leather chair, black painted walls, washroom, bed.
Feeling a sting, I glanced down and noticed something was in the back of my hand, a wire attached to a strange clear bag hanging from the bedpost.
Reaching down, I pulled the needle out, crying out loudly as it ripped my flesh and a stream of blood trickled down my arm.
“No! Fuck! Wait. Calm down. It’s… it’s okay.” The man attempted to soothe me with his deep voice.
I did not recognize him from commune, but he was a disciple, I had no doubt. This meant I had to leave. I realized Gabriel must have tracked me down after all. This man was my captor. I was about to be punished.
Scanning the room, I spotted a door behind me to my left. An exit. The man moved forward two steps, his words slower and clearer this time.
“Please. I won’t hurt you.”
I cocked my head to the side. He was being kind, even gentle, but I knew it must be a trick, an evil ruse. He raked his hand through his hair and rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, large, bulging forearms on display.
I stumbled back, hitting the hard wall. His arms. His arms carried the picture of the devil. I stared. I could not stop staring as my body seized in fear. He looked down to see what had me so scared.
His bright-brown eyes widened as they focused back on me. “No, fuck! It’s not what you think. Don’t be scared of me.”
A lifelong teaching set off an alarm in my mind: Evil is stalking. Evil will catch you. Evil will destroy your very soul.
Attempting to reach the door, my feet were sluggish. Too tired to function, my leg felt as if it were on fire. Somehow I kept going, taking advantage of the fact that he was on the other side of the large bed.
“No! Wait! Ah, shit!”
I did not. I continued forward. Gripping the handle, I pushed through on unsure feet, slamming the door behind me. The winding path of a dark, narrow corridor became my guide and I continued down a set of stairs, using the wall to keep me upright.
I could hear people at the end of the corridor and I glanced over my shoulder just as the man burst through the bedroom door, yelling at me to stop. His whole frame appeared to fill the hallway. His face was intent and he was scaring me now. The way he stalked me unsettled my nerves.
I tried to run even harder, but my injured calf protested with each step I made.
A large steel door separated me from voices of people—people who could perhaps help, or maybe not. I did not know, but it was my only choice. I pressed down on the long handle with all my strength, bursting through, falling to the floor. My legs had finally given out, my vision hazing, and an intense dizziness took hold.
I slowly looked up, the room seeming to tilt on its side. Many pairs of eyes focused on me sitting dead center of the room and people began circling around me. Lots of people. Strange people. Frightening people. It looked as though they were swirling around. I wanted to cry.
I fought back a sob. Maybe the teachings were right. Maybe I was in hell after all.
The walls of the large room were mostly black, though adorned with picture after picture of Satan in hell—infernos, blood, demons, evil beasts, and dark rivers swarming with lost souls. My hand muffled a scream as I realized Prophet David had been right; outside of The Order was evil. I had been protected yet escaped.
I surveyed the immediate area, my dizziness ebbing a fraction. Loose women wearing scant clothes dominated the room. Rough, unkempt long-haired men wearing leather touched them in very intimate places and the women clearly invited such provocative actions. Even as they looked at me, amusement flickered in their eyes as they cowed me with their stares. Men and women alike were smirking at me, some seemingly in kindness, others in blatant lust.
A deadly sin.
The door behind me crashed into the wall and I froze—the passive deer surrounded by a pack of lions. Chills ran through me as I felt the man from the bedroom approach.
I flinched at a loud screech. A chair scraped slowly on the wooden floor, the noise flowing around and through the crowd. Many heads turned toward the source.
“Baby, where are you going?” I heard a soft female voice ask from across the room. The crowd parted but no answer greeted her question.
Tightly holding my breath, I waited for who would be revealed. Then a tall, hugely built man broke through the wall of people, walking straight toward me. His hard gaze locked on mine and I could not divert my attention away from his large, hazel eyes, rough, unshaven cheeks, and dark messy hair as he towered over my slumped form. I dared not even breathe.
Though he looked like Satan himself, he was quite simply the most beautiful man I had ever seen: ruggedly handsome and the most commanding man I had ever encountered.
Shuffling back a few steps, I hit the legs of the man from the bedroom. Kneeling down, he steadied me by placing his hands on my arms. But the man with hazel eyes kept closing in, only stopping when he was two feet away.
Crouching down, he gazed at every part of my face, his nostrils flaring as he drew in long breaths. His lips parted slightly as he exhaled and behind him, someone coughed. Distracted, his eyes darted to the side and away from my stare. I placed a palm over my pounding head. It was all too much and I could not focus. My heart slammed in my chest and pure fear seized control of my body. I willed myself to stop trembling; this only seemed to fuel my anxiety further.
At the snap of his fingers, someone moved closer and I started. The man with the large hazel eyes began waving his hands around in controlled yet unfamiliar movements. Then someone ordered, “Go to him.”
What? What was happening?
Stretching my head up to follow the voice, I saw a man with long blond hair to his shoulders stepping forward. “Calm yourself. You’re safe,” he assured me
gently. He had kind eyes and was very handsome. But so is the devil, I reminded myself.
The dark-haired man edged closer still, now only mere inches from my chest. Even in my weakened state, his scent stirred something in my stomach; he was intoxicating, dangerous but intoxicating.
I lifted my wary eyes to meet his and his hands began to move once more.
“You have nothing to be afraid of. No one will hurt you. You have my word,” the blond man said, continuing to watch his friend’s busy hands.
He seemed to be translating.
I wanted to scream out in confusion. I did not understand anything that was happening, did not understand where I was, who I was with, and why the man before me did not speak. In a flash, I suddenly remembered the boy I met at the fence when I was eight. He too spoke with his hands. Maybe some people talked with their hands on the outside? I rubbed my hand down my face and squeezed my eyes shut. I was delirious, my mind wandering to silly, idle thoughts.
“Styx, man. What the hell? Who the fuck’s this bitch? Why’s she freaking out?”
My gaze was drawn to a man with straight, long black hair that dropped to the middle of his back. His features were so different from mine, his width so, so… big. He was almost as wide as he was tall. His skin was a caramel brown, eyes almost black, mouth fuller. Strange dark patterns were etched into his entire face… a large tattoo of swirling black lines and symbols.
“Bull, not fuckin’ now,” the blond man snapped, but Bull had addressed the dark-haired man. The man before me with hazel eyes was named Styx?
Styx leaned even closer and I let him. What other choice was there? I was no stranger to men taking from me what they wanted. I learned at a very early stage in life that a person can do just about anything to survive.
Placing a hand over his chest, he moved it over his heart, and the blond man stood beside him. “My name’s Ky. His name’s Styx. He found you behind the dumpster a few days ago, bleeding out. You were dying. You remember?”
A few days ago! I looked down to my leg, now covered in bandages, feeling the tightness of my damaged skin and the nauseating pain when I moved.
Guard dogs. Of course, a guard dog bit me. Gabriel’s dog mauled my left leg when I was trying to escape. I had been unconscious for a few days?
“This is a clubhouse, for bikers. The Hangmen.” Ky gestured around the room.
I frowned. His face reflected my own expression. “You do know what a bike is, yeah? A motorbike?”
M-o-t-o-r-b-i-k-e. I sounded the word in my head, but it was not familiar. Someone laughed loudly in the background, mocking me. Styx turned his head slowly and he glared at the mocking man, whose laugher immediately stopped. At that moment, I feared him. His expression was intense, severe, his dark, sharp features hard and steely. As I shifted on the spot in obvious discomfort, his gaze met mine once again.
His hands moved. “No one laughs at you, right,” Ky verbalized the message with appropriate emphasis.
For some reason, I relaxed on hearing Styx’s vow of protection. Ky cleared his throat and continued. “A bike is something you ride, travel on. You know what a car is?”
I nodded my head once. Styx’s nostrils flared and his lips twitched.
“It’s like a car but with two wheels instead of four,” Ky explained.
There was a deathly hush in the room as I tried to picture such a machine. I turned, looking each person in the eyes. They were all so different. I felt like I was in another world, so different to the one I had known all my life. It was a darker world, a sinful world. I supposed now I was sinful. I no longer had the protection of the great fence against outsiders.
A pretty blond-haired woman smiled as she moved to the front of the crowd. She waved at me, then stopped beside a huge man with no hair, taking his hand in hers. He unsettled me tremendously. He sported more tattoos on his skin than anyone else; even his neck and head were covered in bright, intricate images. He was menacing; in contrast, the woman seemed kind. She reminded me of Delilah.
I flinched and almost screamed.
Lilah… Maddie!
“Listen to me.” I faced Styx once more as his hands began their intricate dance. Ky’s voice gave the command. The significance of what I had done began to seep through the barriers of my mind. In sympathy, my limbs started to tremble.
“Do you remember me?” Ky said, pointing to Styx.
Did I remember Styx? What a strange question, I thought through my mind’s thick fog.
As I looked into those large, hazel eyes, Styx suddenly seemed nervous. His gaze broke and he anxiously glanced around the room. People began to murmur, giving him quizzical looks. A woman with long brown hair approached him, laying a hand on his shoulder, and without even looking back, he shrugged off her gesture of comfort. Her pretty face fell and she stared at the floor.
Styx’s hands moved once more, this time quicker but also seeming more intense.
“Do you?” Ky pushed.
But I could not take my eyes off the woman behind Styx, nor she off me. I could see by the way she hovered around the man that she wanted to belong to him. It was the same way Sister Eve reacted around Prophet David: longingly… unrequited.
She was in love with Styx.
“Look at me!” Ky snapped impatiently, giving Styx a voice. “Do you remember me?” Styx pounded at his chest with his finger.
I studied Styx’s face more deeply. He was even larger than I first realized, his neck and shoulders wide and strong, his arms bulging in the sleeves of his black shirt. But those eyes… green with flecks of brown mostly sprinkled around the outside… beautiful. Styx’s eyes reminded me of the forest, of fall colors and fallen leaves. I watched as he swallowed under my attention, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared me down.
Ky sighed in disappointment, breaking the moment and he crouched down to whisper, “Styx, man, it’s not her. She’s scared shitless. It was always a long shot anyway. It’s not the bitch you saw and kissed behind that fence all those years ago. Time to let that shit go.”
Fence? Kissed?
No… wait! Was it… him? Impossible…
Styx sighed and lowered his head, his shoulders slumping in disappointment, nodding his head in agreement.
I brushed my finger across my lips. That strange boy… that kiss…
A boy stood at the fence, pressed against the links, frantically waving his hands. I did not know what he was doing. Moving closer to the boy, I watched as he tried again. Sighing, he closed his eyes, took a long deep breath, and asked, “Wh-wh-who are you?” He could not speak properly. The words fought to escape his mouth.
I tilted my head, watching him silently. Who are you? the boy asked me. Who am I? I thought tiredly. I am Salome, a born temptress, a Cursed. I had just been introduced to my duty, my service to the cause. Shown how to help the elders get closer to God, to rid me of my born sin. I had to get away for a while… They had hurt me.
I did not speak to the boy on the other side of the fence. I was prohibited from speaking, so I just stared, blocking out the events from earlier that day. I did not know how he found us, why he was even there. But at that moment, I did not care.
The boy dressed strangely: all-black clothing, strange metal bracelets on his wrists. He was dangerous, with dark-brown hair and large hazel eyes, the most beautiful fall-colored eyes.
“What is this p-p-place? D-d-do you live here?” the boy asked softly.
My eyes slipped down to study his mouth, but I did not speak. No one must know of The Order, for our protection. I was not allowed to speak to boys. It was forbidden, a sin, and he was an outsider, one of them.
“Puh… puh… please… Wh-wh-what is your n-name?”
“My name is Sin. We are all sin…”
I gasped loudly. Styx was that boy? No…
I swept my eyes across his strange black clothes and down to the silver bracelets on his wrists, the metal bracelets embossed with the same strange emblem. I remembered that day as though
it were yesterday. He had cared about me, wanted to know my name… kissed me. Then I never saw him again. I visited the same part of the fence often in hopes of seeing him once more—especially after those days—but he never came back. I had never been kissed before or since. He was my only secret… my biggest ever sin. He had become almost like a dream to me.
Lifting my shaky hand, I gently placed it on his cheek. Styx sucked in a breath as his eyes met mine. I shuffled closer still, just to be sure it was truly him and his lips parted on a small, ragged breath.
Choking on a sob, my eyes widened and I faltered backward, recognition slamming into my conscience. My reaction to who he actually was gripped me. From deep inside me, it stirred feelings I had never known.
It is him. My River. He has found me again…
Styx clutched my arms, simply staring and staring.
“Do you know, Styx?” Ky asked, still beside me.
Styx’s fingers squeezed my arms, as though prompting me to speak.
I lowered my hand, playing with my fingers, and nodded once.
Styx closed his eyes, freed me from his hold, worked his hands, and Ky asked, “Where from? Tell me where from… just so I’m sure it’s you.”
I wanted to speak, but I was too nervous and I did not know if these people could be trusted. There were so many strangers encasing me in a claustrophobic circle and I felt trapped.
Thinking of another way to prove my identity, I slowly reached out for Styx’s hands and brought them up high to mirror the position they were at the fence. I then wrapped my index finger around his, just as he did with me all those years ago. I saw in his floored expression that he understood.
With this realization, he rolled his eyes, then ran a hand roughly through his hair. Shock and disbelief were clearly etched on his face.
Ky gave me a peculiar look before stating, “I… I can’t believe it. It’s really you? Fuck!” He looked to Styx in shock. Styx had yet to remove his gaze from mine. “Fuck! It’s the fuckin’ pilgrim bitch!”
“What the fuck’s going on? Who’s she? Why’re the two of you being so fuckin’ weird over a piece of pussy?” a tall man with fire-red hair asked as he stepped forward stroking his long goatee.