by Willow Rose
Frantically Hans Christian was now pulling his arm trying to get it out of this weird green growing mass in front of him, crying in despair. Pictures of his father touching him, making him feel things he didn’t want to, the forbidden feeling of pleasure, pleasure from being with his father who never looked at him or even talked to him, who always seemed to be disappointed in him, except at night when he climbed under his covers. Hans Christian was screaming and crying while fighting the green mass in the way he knew he should have fought his father but never had the guts to do. Because he wanted it. Didn’t he? He wanted it to happen. He wanted to be close to his father, he wanted to feel his presence, the love, the affection. Even if it was in that way, a way he knew was wrong. At least it was something. It was the closest Hans Christian had ever come to being loved.
While Hans Christian was screaming out years and years of pain and repressed feelings he suddenly saw something in the green mass. His reflection was changing; it was no longer the young boy he had tried so hard to forget staring back at him from inside the green mass. Slowly the eyes changed, and soon the face changed. Out grew something much much worse than facing his long concealed pain. It was a girl, the girl. She was staring back at Hans Christian with her green glowing eyes in her crooked face.
Hans Christian gasped for air and froze. Then the girl laughed.
Hans Christian woke up screaming. Realizing it was just a dream calmed him down immediately, but the sense of inner peace didn’t last for long. Barely had he put his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes, hearing nothing but his own rapid heartbeat, when suddenly another sound caused him to open his eyes again.
The sound of smacking lips.
Chapter 13
Hans Christian Bille’s statement didn’t add much new to the story except he clearly told the officer that he wanted to call for the ambulance right away but Isabella Dubois had told him not to. He was the only one of the people present who clearly had conscience enough to want to do something according to the statements that - except for Hans Christian’s - were scarily alike. The officer kept asking him why he didn’t just do it anyway, why he - and the others in the room - hadn’t refused to obey the orders coming from Isabella Dubois? Hans Christian hadn’t been able to provide a satisfying answer for that.
“That is just the way it is,” he answered.
I noted that statement on my notepad, thinking that it was probably a very fitting answer. These were people who were used to being led by a strong leader and used to being told what to do, what to think and what not to. They obeyed orders or they risked losing everything. I had once written a story about a similar sect in Jutland a couple of years ago. A young woman had managed to break free and told me in an interview how it worked. It was appalling. Especially how they exploited her weaknesses, her fear of being alone. They told her she would lose everything if she left the sect, if she turned her back on them. No one would take care of her, and she was weak as a person, they told her, and not able to take care of herself. She needed them and she believed them.
For several years she let them exploit her. She had to work for them, cook, clean and be available sexually for the leader as should the rest of the women in the sect. Her mistake was to fall in love with the leader and follow him into this as just a very young woman. He had brainwashed her and over a couple of months changed her way of thinking. I was appalled by the way he had filled her with guilt and basically told her she couldn’t do anything on her own, that she was evil by nature and a sinner and without him she would fall back to her old sinful lifestyle. Her parents had tried to contact her and help her get out, she later learned but she was kept away from them and everybody else. She was told her family and old friends weren’t good for her. She was told to turn her back at them, on her old ways, and so she did. Ten years later she finally managed to escape but she found it hard to live a normal life, she was constantly afraid and suffered from severe anxiety attacks. All of her friends were gone and her mother had died.
Now she lived with her father who was all she had left. Members of the sect still came to her house several times a week to talk to her and tell her to come back. First they would tell her that they loved her and knew she loved them. Then they would tell her she was living wrong, filling her again with guilt and condemnation, telling her she couldn’t do it on her own. That she was living sinfully. It was hard for her to resist them, since there really wasn’t much left for her on the outside anymore. She had never had a good relationship with her father and it hadn’t improved.
As I sat in the living room of the vacation rental and stared at all the statements made by the members of “The Way” I felt a chill run down my back. I thought about the young woman and where she was now, if she had managed to get her life back or if she had gone back to what she knew, what had become familiar to her? I remembered asking her if she ever considered going back. I will never forget that look she gave me. It scared me. She didn’t have to answer and she never did. I could tell by simply looking into her eyes, that she thought about it constantly.
Sune leaned over in the couch and kissed me. “Where did you go?” he asked.
I smiled and touched his cheek gently. “Nowhere. Was just thinking about a story I once did.”
“Ah. More work.”
“I want to write this story,” I said scrolling on the laptop.
Sune sighed and looked at me. “Can’t say I blame you,” he said. “It is a great story. I can’t believe they wouldn’t call for an ambulance.”
I nodded pensively. “It’s an important story.”
“I think so too.”
I picked up my cell phone. It wasn’t too late to call my editor Jens-Ole. I found him under recent calls.
“I have another story for you,” I said. “A spin-off from the death of the Priest.”
Jens-Ole laughed. “I knew it. I knew you couldn’t stay away.”
Jens-Ole was shocked after I had told him the details of the story. He told me I could get the front cover. Then he hung up. I took the laptop to the dinner table and started writing. Sune turned on the TV and watched the late news. The story of the Priest was still there, but it had moved to the bottom of the run down and was just a small story stating he had died from what was believed to be food poisoning. So far people shouldn’t be alarmed since none of the other church members seemed to have been made ill and they all shared the same food.
I got up from my chair and went to the kitchen to make myself some coffee. When I returned Sune had fallen asleep on the couch. I found a blanket and put it over him, then I turned the volume down on the TV and went back to the computer to write my story.
Chapter 14
The smacking sound just wouldn’t go away. At first Hans Christian thought it was all in his head. It was a leftover from his dream. So he decided to ignore it. Forget it, think about something else. Happy thoughts. He thought about Anders and the first years they spent together building up the church and the camp. Those had been the best years of Hans Christian’s life. They had talked for hours and hours, even sometimes staying up all night discussing their beliefs and why God had put them on this earth. They had a mission they both agreed. Anders had been amazing. So beautiful, so powerful and so anointed. There was no doubt in Hans Christian’s mind that Anders was created for greatness. And he worshipped him for it. God had chosen Anders to be the leader, to be the Priest. He had shown him things in visions and when Anders spoke about it, it was like he was on fire. His passion was big and soon Hans Christian’s was just as big. They wanted to save people from the evil lurking inside of them, that was their mission. They were going to cleanse them and free them from what possessed them and made them do evil things. It was an honorable mission and just like Peter was to Jesus in the Bible, Hans Christian had been Anders’ faithful servant and disciple. He had followed him in everything, worshipped his every movement and word he spoke.
Until that night in 1998, he thought while the emotions flushed in
over him. How many nights he had regretted what had happened. But mostly he regretted not having done anything until afterwards when it was all too late. Not until the day after had he told Anders how he felt about what they were doing, what they had done. Not until then had he told him that he didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.
That was when he lost everything. That was when he lost Anders for good and became just another one in the crowd to him.
Happy thoughts, Hans Christian thought to himself as he thought the smacking of the lips became louder in his head. Get back to the happy thoughts. Thoughts about the good days, before … Hans Christian sighed and opened his eyes. What use was it to try and sleep now? He was an old man now and sleeping had become increasingly difficult over the years.
Hans Christian sat up in the bed. There it was again, the smacking sound. He sighed and got up. He walked to the window and pulled away the curtain. It was still a full moon. How he hated the full moon. Always reminded him of that girl. Hans Christian shivered at the thought. He never liked to think about her. Why was he suddenly dreaming about her? Well it wasn’t that strange after all, Hans Christian thought. Not after what had happened the night before with the Priest. It was a wonder that he had been able to sleep at all after that event. It was a wonder that anyone was able to sleep this night. Hans Christian shivered again. He could still hear those screams in his head and now the smacking of the lips. Why was he tormenting himself so much?
The smacking sound seemed to come closer, he thought and turned around to face the door. Was he imagining things or was there someone out there? Maybe someone was in the kitchen? Hans Christian’s room was next to the kitchen. Maybe one of the youngsters had sneaked in to get a late night snack? The building was after all a place where you could hear everything going on in every room. It wouldn’t be the first time he was awakened by someone grabbing something to eat.
Hans Christian grabbed a cardigan and put it on. Then he walked towards the door, grabbed the handle and opened it. The smacking sound was louder out there. It couldn’t be just in his head.
He loved this place, he thought to himself while walking and thinking about that time when they built it. He and Anders had built it together with love and passion for their mission. Hans Christian sighed deeply as he approached the door to the kitchen. He was going to miss Anders, even if he had turned his back on him, even if they hadn’t spoken much the last few years.
The sound was much louder now and Hans Christian prepared himself to do a little scolding before he reached out for the handle. No one was allowed to eat outside of hours. He opened the door and stepped in with a small gasp.
With a trembling hand he reached into his pocket of the cardigan and pulled out his crucifix.
Chapter 15
I wrote for two hours and then the story was done. My editor had given me until midnight to finish it and a few minutes before the clock on the wall showed midnight I pressed ‘send’ on the computer. Satisfied I leaned back in my chair with a small sigh. This was a story no one else had, I was certain of that. The story about the religious sect who thought their leader was possessed by a demon and therefore didn’t call for an ambulance when he was in fact dying of what they now believe is food poisoning. That was bound to be the talk of the town by tomorrow.
I yawned and got up from my chair. My back was killing me. The chair I had been sitting on was horrible. Good thing I wasn’t going to work anymore on this vacation, I thought and went to wake up Sune and get him upstairs with me. I exhaled and looked at him. He was such a sweet guy. Was I in love with him? I believed I was. But I still felt he was so young, at least sometimes. There was so much he didn’t know. Yet - being a father and all - he was really mature for his age and I loved spending time with him and Tobias. We had fun. Sune was a lot of fun to be with.
He opened his eyes and looked at me. “I guess I fell asleep,” he mumbled.
“I guess you did,” I said smiling. I leaned over and kissed his lips. They were so soft, so gentle, so sweet. So different from kissing Peter who had always been rough and demanding.
“I was dreaming,” he said. “A great dream.”
I put my head on his chest and enjoyed the resounding sound of his voice through it. “That sounds nice,” I mumbled.
“It was about you,” he said and chuckled.
“I like the sound of that. Keep going,” I closed my eyes and enjoyed a rare moment of closeness.
Sune chuckled again. “We had a baby, you and I.”
I opened my eyes and lifted my head. “We did what?”
Sune smiled gently. “We had a baby. You had it, but I was the father. You and I made a baby together. Isn’t that wonderful?”
I froze completely while staring at him. I exhaled. “I think it is time for bed now,” I said and got up from the couch.
Sune stared at me. “It was just a dream,” he said. “What’s going on? Why are you freaking out?”
“I’m not freaking out,” I said sensing my voice becoming slightly shrill. I forced it to calm down.
“You’re acting weird, then. Why are you acting weird?” Sune sat up on the couch and looked at me.
“I’m not acting weird. You’re the one being weird about this. You were sleeping. I get it. People have dreams. Nothing to it. I dream all the time about stuff that doesn’t matter, right? I mean, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“You’re still being weird,” Sune said and got up from the couch.
“No I’m not,” I exclaimed a little too loud.
“Then explain to me what is going on, because I don’t think I understand. Either you’re mad at me for something or …” Sune exhaled.
“Or what, Sune? What?”
He exhaled again. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe you have PMS or something. Maybe we just need some sleep.”
I froze. “PMS or something? What kind of statement is that supposed to be?”
“I don’t know. I don’t understand women,” he said.
“Try anyway. I don’t like to be called mad when I’m not mad. I thought we were having a nice time here.”
“Well I thought so too, but suddenly it was like you were mad at me for having that dream or something.”
“Why should I be mad about that?” I asked defensively.
“I don’t know, okay! Could we please just leave it?”
I gesticulated resignedly. “Alright. Whatever.”
Sune sighed again. “I’m going to bed.”
“For your information I don’t suffer from PMS,” I said as I watched him walk up the stairs.
“Okay,” he said. “Whatever you tell yourself.”
I snorted in anger in his direction. What the hell just happened there? I thought to myself as Sune disappeared up the stairs. How was I supposed to react? I was confused. I couldn’t go up there now, he would only think he had won, so I had to stay at least a couple of minutes to make a statement. At the same time I was so tired I could sleep standing up so I really didn’t want to wait. My pride kept me in the living room for another five minutes before I finally caved and started walking up the stairs.
I only went a few steps before I froze by the sound of another wave of horrifying deathly screams.
Sune came out on the stairs and walked towards me. The screams went through my bones. “Should we call for help?” I asked.
“I’m on it,” Sune said and walked downstairs to get his phone.
Chapter 16
The pain was excruciating. Nothing like anything Hans Christian had ever experienced. Not even when he succumbed himself to the mercy and strict hand and whip of Anders the Priest. Not even when Anders beat out the demons from his body and made him free again. Not even that pain was anything compared to what he was experiencing right now. It was like needles, no more like knives trying to penetrate through his skin from the inside. It was as if his blood was boiling, his internal organs on fire.
People gathered around him after they had heard him
scream. He lay on the kitchen floor crouched, crumpled up, vomiting blood and trying desperately to talk, but only being able to utter a few incoherent words. It was like his body was giving up, one organ, one cell at a time. Even his mind seemed to be tricking him. He thought he saw visions, people from his past in the room with him, along with all the church members staring helplessly at him while he was tossing his body on the floor, screaming while blood ran from his eyes, ears and nose. It seemed his body was slowly dissolving from the inside, as if something was trying to get out. In his hand he still held his crucifix and every now and then he tried to lift it and command this pain to go away in the name of Jesus Christ, but the words came out spluttering with blood and nothing made sense to him anymore. He knew who had done this to him, he had stared into the face of his killer, but then he remembered no more. Next thing he found himself on the floor of the kitchen in a pain so tormenting he wished he could just die right away. He wasn’t afraid any longer. He wanted to go home. Home to be with Anders. His only problem was he wasn’t sure he was going to be with the good Lord anymore. Not after having stared the devil right into the eyes.
“Help …” he stuttered half choked by the blood in his throat. “Help me …”
Isabella entered the room and kneeled in front of him. Hans Christian managed to lift his head and look into her icy eyes. He had expected to be met with cold or even maybe compassion, but he saw neither. Instead he saw disgust. Isabella had loathed him from the beginning and now he was more appalling to her than ever.
“We need to clean him,” she said. “We might not be able to save his life, but we can rebuke the devil from him, so it won’t take his soul. We can still save his soul.”