Angels Born of Hell and Fire

[Chapter Eleven]

**WARNING: Some Explicit Content**

For the second time in my life, I found myself peering through the rusted bars of a cage.

No breeze deterred the still air here. The atmosphere was dense and heavy, so dirtied with humidity, filth and dust that it might as well have been a solid thing. And the smell, that god awful smell, had finally neutralized in my senses. I wondered how long I had been down here to make it so. Surely it was a great length of time, for it felt like I had been tossed onto this frozen floor a life time ago. I had long since lost track of what I thought to be the days, measuring time on how often the giant that was my guard would come and refill the muddy container that was supposed to be my food dish. After taking the first bite of the gelatin like substance I had just thrown it all up again. I hadn’t bothered to eat since.

My body shivered against the forever slightly moist rocks that were the background of my enclosure. I had been stripped of my uniform, left with nothing but my thin cotton under things to shield my body against the cold. A constant wheeze had formed in my lungs, as well as a slight shake in my hands that never stopped no matter how tight I held my fist. My long dark hair was a mass of knots and clotted mud, my scalp forever seeming itchy, like there were a million little bugs crawling across it. There probably were.

I listened intently to the sound of my thin breaths, favoring that to the other sounds that whispered and carried around the rocks. I was far from the only one down here. I couldn’t see them, so shoved into shadow was my prison, but I could hear them. No matter how I tried to clog my ears against them, I could hear them. Various moans, broken sobs, cries of pain, screams of terror, they went on for forever, never ending, never fading. When one lament would end another would take its place, sounding even more shattered and helpless than the first.

My hands clutched the sides of my head, my nails, made jagged and rough from my teeth, dug into my scalp, tearing the fragile skin. I just wanted to make it stop, to make those horrible sounds stop. But they never did, even if I tried to block them out I could still hear them inside my head, mocking me. I tried focusing on the comforting sound of the air passing through my lungs, to the steady beat of my heart pumping blood through my veins. If I could only focus on these sounds of life, I could forget about the sobbing sounds of death around me.

I could feel emotions here. Horrible, mind numbing emotions of the withering things that was once human. Upon entering my pen I had curled into a defensive ball against those feelings and hadn’t moved since. It was safer not to move, not to make any noise what so ever. At even the slightest disturbance the shuddering creatures near me would be sent into a frenzy of fear, and would not settle for hours afterwards.

No, it was much safer not to move, not to look, not to think and not to believe such horrors existed. Such darkness could not be real.

A shuffling sound broke through the babble and I barely lifted my head from me knee’s enough to see the man without a face moving pass my bars, chains in his club like hands.
My hands shook harder, knowing what that meant. He only carried chains when he came for someone. Only when someone would be dragged from their cell into the back room would he be carrying those restraints. No one ever returned from that room.

Minutes, hours, or maybe even days later, I couldn’t tell any more, he walked by once more, something thin and grey dragging along the floor behind him. For one terrible moment I stared into wide lifeless eyes, looking at me from a gaunt shrunken face. I flinched, burying my face back into the comforting cradle my bent knee’s provided. I knew soon, soon the screaming would start, and that was impossible to ignore.

As the first cry of agony peeled out overhead I cried out along with it, in despair. The being around me stirred, becoming restless, their sounds of distress rising. How many times had I been forced to listen to those torturous sounds? How many times would I have to yet? I wasn’t sure I could take any more, for just hearing those horrid wails was in itself a kind of torture. I could feel my sanity slipping away, torn apart by every throaty scream that penetrated through my conscious. They carried on for what seemed an impossible amount of time. Surely no one could withstand such agony for so long?

Finally silence. For one remarkable second silence prevailed in the darkness, a farewell to the soul that had passed, before the usual moans of decay began again.

I was exhausted, even the slightest movement seeming too tedious to accomplish. I wish to slip away into blissful unconsciousness, and be free from my surroundings for even a brief moment. Yet my battered brain refused to settle, continuing to keep be solidly present in my own body like a perverse pun.

A shuffling noise reached my ears.

I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to chance seeing yet another image that would never leave my subconscious. Already the back of my eye lids danced with enough repulsive pictures to haunt me. I didn’t need any more, I didn’t want to see another set of dead lifeless eyes, I didn’t want to look into the pathetic remains of a human face. But my body was against me, raising my head to look beyond the iron bars that locked me in. The troll of a man was coming back, the tree limbs that were his arms locked around the flailing form of a girl. I found that odd. Most people down here where already half dead, without the energy to even try and protest. But this girl kicked and struggled, hoarse cries of protest coming from her lips.

I watched in astonishment as she continued to fight, even on the brink of what was surely her demise. She was the most alive thing I had seen in my entire say in this despicable hole. Her head turned to me, bright hazel eyes filled with panic and desperation. As she beheld me, small and pitiful in a puddle of mud, her mouth moved into words directed at me, like I was her only hope.

But I was nothing. I couldn’t even help myself much less another person. I was weak and pathetic, nothing worthy enough to have hope placed upon. I was nothing.

I found myself moving, releasing the tight ball my body had rested in. Cramped muscles protested as I turned to kneel on the hard stone.

The girl reached her hand towards me, those bright eyes begging me. Finally her voice broke through to my ears.

“Help me.”

I was standing, my feet dragging as I stumbled to fall against the rotting bars. My arm shot out, as if to catch that pale hand that was extended towards me. It was impossible of course; the monster that was a man yanked the girl away, continuing on into that ominous back room.

A wail of dismay lacerated my throat as I watched them disappear into the pitch. I had failed again. I had failed to protect another person that had entrusted me with their hope. I was worthless, undeserving of their bright emotions, yet once again someone had looked at me for help, and once again I had let them down. I should have been the one taken into that room of no return.

My fist beat against the iron that retrained me in fury, a horrible sound coming from my mouth.

How dare they? How dare they do these terrible things to people? None of them deserved this, no matter their crimes, no one deserved to be thrown down here where even rats refused to venture.

The fragile edges of my sanity were falling away. All I could see where those bright hazel eyes, so desperate for help, then the dark soulless eyes of the person before her. My ears played back the numerous screams, the horrible sobbing, over and over in my head. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t listen any more. It had to stop. Someone please make it stop.

With one last burst of fury my fist collided with metal, breaking it from its hinges. I tumbled out of the confines of what had been my residence, too infuriated to be shocked.

It all had to stop.

Around me dark shadowy things slithered to safety, hiding from the wraith of my anger.

I wouldn’t fail any more, I would make it stop. It had to stop.

These were the thoughts that drove me down that hall. These were the thoughts that blared in my head until even the sound of screams and crying where distant and distorted; eerie background music for my own fevered thoughts.

As I shot into the room of horrors this was the scene before me; the girl, long brown curling hair falling to cover her face, stood chained to a wall, her back a mess of torn fabric and rising welts. The faceless man stood in the middle of the stone room, a black horse whip in hand. He raised it, preparing to strike the seemingly unconscious girl again.

He never had the chance to.

Outraged as I was it never accorded to me that this man was probably twice my size, that he could snap my neck with a twist of his pudgy wrist. I didn’t recoil from his garish features, wasn’t put off by the weapon in his grasp. No, none of that crossed my mind, all I knew, was that he was dead.

A sound similar to a hiss or a growl irrupted threw my teeth, more animal than human. The man turned sharply, whip still raised. As his eyes, hidden beneath swollen lids, met mine I felt fear come towards me. I loved it, taking it into my bodily happily. I grinned savagely, lost in my insanity. He took a step backwards, retreating from my chilling expression. I didn’t give him a chance to take another.

I flew at him, a mad thing of claws and snapping teeth. I fought more like animal than the human I was supposed to be. My nails ranked across his face, slicing through the flesh like butter. Blood squirted. The man screamed. I laughed. Claws dug against his wide chest, tearing it to shreds. The scent of blood filled my nostrils, driving my frenzied mind crazy. The sound of snarls and tearing flesh filled the small chamber. I tore him to pieces, my mind a haze of black and red. The man was already dead long before I was satisfied.

He had to be punished, punished for his sins, and i would be the one to do so.

I stood over him, panting; blood coated my hands, my arms, my whole torso seemed drenched in it. The warm feel of it slid down my previously numb limbs, returning them to life. I looked down at the mutilated body at my feet and spit on it.

"Filth." I cursed. Adrenaline still pulsed through me, making me giddy. I let out a chuckle, and then full out laughed, the sound bouncing around creepily. I had done it. I had won. I wasn’t a failure after all.

"Fun isn’t it?"

I spun at the smooth voice, claws held at ready.

Adam leaned against the door way, his arms crossed casually across his chest. He looked like he had been there for quite some time.

His violet eyes turned to the bloodied heap at my feet.

"Though I believe you had a tad bit too much fun." He pursed his lips but didn’t sound displeased by this fact, in fact he sounded just a jubilant as I had felt a few moments before.

But he’s appearance was bringing me back to my senses; the adrenaline was wearing off and for the first time I realized the full extent of what I had just done. I gasped away from the body, my entire being shaking. My stomach spun and I turned away from Adam to retch. There was nothing in my stomach to upheave but I still clenched, doubling over, trying to expel what was not there.

All I could think was: Oh my God, what have I done?

"Exactly what you’re supposed to,” Adam said. He stayed as he was, watching me with bright violet eyes.

“What?” I croaked, shaking. My knees gave out under me and I collapsed. I was staring at the body before me, at the gruesome picture that I had painted. Painted in blood.

“You’re doing exactly what God wishes. You’ve become exactly what you were always supposed to,” Adam’s voice cooed at me. “You’ve become such a delightful little monster.”

“What- what-,” I shook my head against his words. I could feel the hysteria rising, swelling up inside my chest to suffocate me.

Adam knelt down next to me, grabbing my face in his cold hand and forcing me to look at him.

“I mean, you’re become just like me, my beautiful daughter,” delight covered his lips, drawing them up into what would have been a handsome smile to anyone else.

“No,” I wheezed weakly. But here was the proof, lying on the stone floor in a massive bloodied heap. I had killed someone.

No. I had done more than that. I had mutilated someone. And I had enjoyed it.

“No!” I sobbed, burying my face in my bloody hands. “NO!”

I had truly become a monster.

Beside me Adam chuckled, finding my denial amusing.

“It’s alright my dear,” he purred, “it’s okay. I’ll still love you long after God has turns his back on you. We’ll protect you.”

I shook my head, unable to control the whimpers finding their way from my clenched teeth.

I had killed someone. I was no better than Adam. No, I was probably worse than Adam. I was sickening, a demon in the shape of a girl.

Adam petted my tangled hair a moment and leaned forward to whisper in my ear.

“It’s far too late to run away now. You’re mine, now and forever.”

I was aware of him getting up and leaving the room.

A low groan broke through the stillness of the chamber. My eyes fell on the girl still chained to the wall. I felt ashamed that, in my horror, I had forgotten all about her. I looked at the shackles incasing her thin wrists. The keys… Shaking, I crawled forward, carefully picking the keys from the tattered corpse.

Gently I laid her on her side — away from the pool of blood — and looked at the wounds on her back. The skin was a mess of welts and bruises. I seem to have gotten there in time before the torture had become too severe.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and then her eyes slowly opened. She blinked, looked up at me, and immediately recoiled, eyes wide in terror. It was then that I remembered that I was covered in blood. I must look like something out of a nightmare...

“Uh, no don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. It’s not my blood,” that didn’t seem to help... “No, I mean, uh,” I looked around helplessly, unable to find a way to explain. I looked back at the girl only to find her staring behind me.

Oh no.

Her hazel eyes flashed back to me.

“Did you do that?” she asked in a soft voice that had a southern drawl to it.

There was no use lying.

“Yes. I killed him.”

The girl looked at me for two seconds longer before she suddenly launched herself at me, her arms hugging me tightly.

“Thank you!” she cried. “Thank you so much!” she began to cry then and I stared down at her.

I was being thanked for such a hideous crime?

I sat frozen as she cried into my bloody chest.

My head turned and I stared at my sin, at the scarlet covered walls, the matching hue’s that covered my hands; telling of my guilt. Would I really be forgiven, just because I had managed to save her? Was that a good enough excuse to overlook my monstrosity? Could I really continue on from here, and feel the same as I had before?

Someone walked into the room and my eyes looked up to see Savannah. She didn’t register any surprise over the display of my tragedy, only walked forward, removing her jacket to drape over my bare shoulders.

“Let’s go General.”

She helped us to our feet, the girl still clutching to my waist as we walked. I couldn’t bring myself to detach myself from her fragile grasp, letting her take comfort in the contact. We emerged from the cave of nightmares and into the night air, moving like refugees after an epic battle. As we made our way up the steep incline I looked back at the door leading back to the scene of my crimes.

I had killed a man.

Before coming here I hadn’t so much as slapped another person.

Tears slid silently down my cheeks, unchecked.

Adam was right, I was becoming more and more like him, no matter how hard I tried to stop it.

[End Chapter Eleven]