Deliverance from Evil

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Deliverance from Evil Page 19

by Michael Cross


  I heard him scream at Bethany, “What kind of idiot are you anyway? Do you want to kill her?” There was no response from Bethany except for what sounded like crying. I struggled to get out of bed, but in the process I collapsed onto the floor. Vincent flew into the room, looked at me, and then swung around towards Bethany as she tried to rush through the door. As she knelt down, tears dripping from her eyes, she asked me if I was okay. Yet before I could answer her Vincent grabbed her by the back of the neck, pulled her up and screamed, “You dumb bitch, does she look okay to you? Does she?” He then flung her onto the bed so hard that she flew off and landed like a rag doll onto the floor on the other side.

  Vincent knelt over me. His mood turned to one of gentleness and he reached his hand out to me. I took it and he pulled me up and placed me onto the bed. Bethany was still crying, and starting to get up off the floor as Vincent’s eyes grew wide and he clenched his fists as he turned to look at Bethany, “Why does she smell like alcohol? Was she drinking before you did this?” Bethany stopped crying long enough to say, “I am so sorry.” He looked as if he was going to lurch at her, but I was able to get enough energy to extend my hand out and take hold of his. He was breathing heavily, and seemed to be just on the brink of flying over the bed and inflicting some sort of painful punishment on Bethany, but instead looked at me said, “You are never, ever to let her touch you ever again, you understand?” He took on a far calmer manner, one that scared me since it reminded me of the night at the bar, commanded Bethany, “Make sure to get her dressed and warm. And make sure she doesn’t have to go to the hospital!” He then looked at me, brushed my hair back from my forehead and asked, “Later would you like to watch some TV or something?” I nodded to let him know I did, and he stormed out of the room, glaring at Bethany the whole time.

  I felt so bad for Bethany. She managed to get up and pull her hair back and rub her eyes before sitting next to me. She said, “I am sorry Jennifer, I am sorry.” I reached out to her and she took my hand. She seemed quite worried and asked, “Are you okay? Your hand is freezing! Tell me, how are you feeling?” I was dizzy, sick to my stomach and my hands and feet were still tingling. She looked at my hands, then my feet and even though she took hold of my toes I could barely feel the warmth. She felt the pulse on my neck and said, “No need to talk. I think you’ll be okay.” I was not sure what she was actually thinking. She put several blankets on me, grabbed the blood and left the room.

  I did not hear anything for a while so I thought maybe Vincent had calmed down, or was outside or something. I hoped Bethany was safe. It was my fault all this happened but I did wonder why she had not put up a stronger fight to make me stop sooner. A moment later she opened the door and was carrying a dark drink. She also had a vitamin and she insisted I swallow it and drink the contents of the glass.

  When I held the glass up to my lips it smelt like grape juice, and it was…except it was mixed with another high iron substance. As I slowly sipped on the mixture she said, “Its grape juice mixed with my own blood. I was planning on us doing a sacred ritual when you returned home. I let my excitement get the best of me or I would have stopped you earlier.” I continued to drink as she continued, “I went ahead and performed a blood-rite healing ritual. I drank all of your offering before giving of myself to you.” She caressed my forehead and whispered, “Please, take of my body and build your strength.” I savoured the metallic flavor mixed with the sweet grape juice. I asked if she had more…she returned in fifteen minutes with another glass.

  Bethany said she would make a special dish of pig’s liver for dinner, and that she could provide more “juice” but that I should not take in too much too fast. She sat next to me, caressing me and even kissed my forehead. I got just enough energy together that, when she was close to me, I asked, “Can you kiss me again?” She complied but this time I managed to move into position and touch her lips to mine. I was not sure how she thought about it but she returned the kiss, holding the position for a couple of seconds. Then she nervously cleared her throat and sat me up. Ignoring what had just happened she asked, “You want to go into the living room now?” I smiled and said I would and she excused herself for a moment to get me something warm to wear. As she was gone I was glad I had kissed her. It helped to get the thought of my having kissed her husband away – and even though it was not at all passionate, it meant something special to me in a good way. I only wondered what it meant to her.

  Bethany soon returned with a large, home-made quilt. It was beautiful and had a picture woven into it of snow-capped mountains. She said, “I made this after visiting Glacier Park in Montana. Do you like it?” I nodded, “It is beautiful. Can we go there someday?” She nodded her head and said, “I would love that. Oh and here, this is all yours now.” I appreciated her gift very much. She appeared happy with my gratitude – a glow seemed to have returned to her face. She caressed my cheek and joked, “You better get okay real soon – if you don’t I won’t be able to give you your new things! I spent a whole day out shopping while you were gone.” I was surprised, and anxious to know what she had bought me, but she would not tell me what just then.

  Bethany stood me up and helped me stagger into the living room. Vincent was outside doing something so we sat together watching some silly Japanese science fiction movie from the 1960s. She said she had loved these programs when she was a child and so there we sat there with her wearing regular, light summer clothing while I was tightly wrapped in a heavy quilt with wool slippers on.

  For the next several hours I was awake for a few minutes, then would drift into sleep, then back awake. Vincent had come back into the house and was acting as if nothing had happened that morning with Bethany. He came and sat down, “So Jennifer, you feeling better?” I nodded in silence. He looked up to make sure Bethany was busy in the kitchen before he whispered to me, “Remember, don’t ever let that woman near you with her needles ever again!” Bethany brought food in for us to eat. Vincent switched on some history documentaries that we watched until we all went to bed late at night. Vincent had told Bethany to keep an eye on me and wake him if anything seemed wrong. Bethany gave me another of her special drinks and we both went to sleep, not discussing any of the events that previous day.

  I awoke from a restless sleep around ten or eleven in the morning. I was not sure why I could not get into a deep sleep, but I assumed it was due to the combination of fresh memories of the road trip, Vincent’s tantrum and, of course, my body’s reaction to the loss of blood. It was only later that I discovered how close I had come to killing myself that day. Again, I cannot say that was not part of my wishes deep down.

  I still felt a strange sensation of numbness throughout my body and my racing heart caused me more than a little worry, but at least I could sit up without almost passing out. I was still disoriented though and, just as the last time I had lost so much blood, I had a real hard time holding a thought in my mind. Maybe that was for the best though, in so many different ways.

  I wrapped my new quilt around me and headed for the bathroom. I made it with no problem, but when I looked in the mirror I could barely recognize myself. I had taken the contacts out before going to bed. Yet my eyes had a blank appearance about them, and the surrounding skin looked more like an old lady’s – dark and puffy. I washed my face and quickly wrapped myself up again. I looked back in the mirror, and wondered where I would be in a year, or five years. Yet my normal gift of analysing everything from the most simple of concepts, to those of universal importance, was temporarily crippled.

  When I went to the kitchen Bethany was at the table sewing. She stepped up to me and asked, “Do you need any help?” I replied, “I’m feeling a lot better today.” She replied “Thank God” and brought me some sausage and biscuits. I do not know why but I asked if she had something to drink, alcohol that is, and she replied, “Sorry child, Vincent said no alcohol until at least after noon, and then only wine or beer.” I felt a bit angry over being controlled by him, but dec
ided to just live with it.

  Vincent came in, holding a thick pair of rubber gloves and carrying a tool box. He greeted me and asked if I were okay. Then he asked me, ignoring Bethany, “Any guess at what is so special about this moment?” I shrugged my shoulders and then he pointed to the TV playing in the living room, then he ran throughout the house turning lights on and proclaimed, “All the power you are seeing right now is from our generator! Pretty nice, huh?”

  He turned to Bethany and asked, in a far less cheerful manner, “So she’s going to be okay, right?” Bethany replied in a submissive, but sweat voice, “Yes Vincent, she is going to be perfectly fine.” He sternly warned, “She had better be.” Then he took my hand, looked at it, and mumbled some obscenities before looking at my face and making it apparent he wanted Bethany to hear what he had to say he stated, “Make sure that if you need anything you tell her what you want. She will get it for you if she knows what is good for her.” Then he excused himself to put his tools away.

  Bethany stared at the sink clearing her throat as if to fight away tears. I asked, “Bethany, you know what I want?” She turned and shook her head. I commented, “I could really use a hug from someone I love right now.” She smiled and immediately walked over and held me in a tight embrace. I asked if we could perhaps watch TV again together. She said she would love to, still fighting back tears.

  She offered to help me to the couch but I was able to make it on my own. She brought me some hot chocolate, chips, and said, “We can sit together all day and night if you want to.” After a while she promised, “I’ll soon give you your presents but that can wait.” I begged, “Please tell me what you bought me!” She laughed, “Have some patience.”

  We just sat there and watched a western drama, then some strange foreign movie with sub titles and then, near when she said she needed to make dinner, she turned on a news channel. Vincent came in and asked how I was doing. I said I was feeling some energy coming back and he said he was happy to hear that. Still, when he went into the kitchen for some coffee I did not hear him say a word to Bethany. He must have still been furious with her.

  He came in and sat down in the chair and picked up one of his books. A few minutes later the news anchors came on and announced, “More news on the near-fatal shooting that took place in Reno over the Labor Day weekend in a moment.” Vincent threw his book down on the floor and screamed, “The what?” I did not say a word but I knew what he was focused on – the words “near-fatal shooting.” Bethany remained in the kitchen. I was wondering to myself if my prayer had come true. Had the woman survived? Just then I was about to ask if he thought they were talking about what we had done, but when I started to ask, even though the commercials were still playing, he abruptly cut me off, “Shut up, I have to hear what they are talking about!”

  The news report returned. Vincent leaned forward as the Reno reporter came on. It seemed the woman I shot was a 35 year old housewife and mother of two young children. Her condition had been listed as stable although she had almost died – it seemed my bullet had indeed been accurate, from my perspective at least, having avoided any major organs and merely grazing her pelvic bone but still almost killing her due to loss of blood. However, thankfully, the young man that had rushed out to her had been a medic in Iraq and had been able to assist her until EMTs arrived. The reporter said she was expected to make a full recovery. When the anchors asked if police had any leads the reporter said the police had no clues but were fearful of a spree killer perhaps being on the loose. Just before the end of the story the female anchor commented, “Our hopes and prayers go out to the woman, her family and the people of Reno!”

  At that Vincent flew into a rage. He threw his cup at the TV, missing but shattering the glass door on the entertainment center. He screamed, “Our hopes and prayers! How dare they?” He then turned to me, “Do you realize what this means?” I started to speak but then he continued, “Shut up! She survived! I don’t want to hear any excuses! This is the first person to survive in all the years I have been out there!” He then knocked over the coffee table with all the snacks. I could hear Bethany in the kitchen crying. Vincent raised his hand in the air as if to strike me, but at that moment Bethany came out and screamed, “Don’t you dare lay a hand on her, do you hear me?” Vincent seemed startled, but he lowered his hand and stormed out of the room, muttering obscenities.

  Bethany came over and asked, “Are you okay? Sometimes Vincent becomes quite passionate over things he hears on the news.” I could not believe her state of denial! She had been able to hear everything yet she wanted so much to maintain her image of Vincent that she did not connect that he was angry not over someone shooting a woman but that it was us and he was furious the woman had lived! I had to probe this further, even though I was still shaken by Vincent’s behaviour just a few moments earlier. I asked, “Bethany do you remember the woman you brought here the same time I arrived?” She responded, “Oh, you mean that pretty young Asian girl? She was nice – I wonder…do you know how she is doing?” I could see in her eyes that she really was oblivious as to the girl’s fate. While I had read of cases of people claiming such repression of reality as a defence in criminal cases I had always assumed these were creative people trying to con judges and juries. Yet before me I had a woman who I was absolutely convinced actually was in deep denial and maybe not suffering so much from schizophrenia but a severe case of post-traumatic stress syndrome!

  Vincent returned about thirty minutes later, still angry it seemed but not throwing anything around. He announced, “I need some time alone. I’m not entirely sure when I’ll be back but I need you…uh Bethany, to go make me a couple of days food I can eat on the road.” When Bethany complied and went to the kitchen Vincent leaned over, almost touching my ear with his face, “I can understand you missing the target. She was a very long distance away. Look, I have some business to do but when I get that finished we can plan for our October trip.” Then he looked up, and seeing that Bethany was still busy in the kitchen, he leaned back over and began to kiss me on the lips! While not as intimate as in the car I was still sickened as I did my best to return interest. When he pulled away I reached up and pulled him back to kiss me again. I had to make sure he believed I felt the same way he did, even though I did not fully understand why – except as a survival guarantee.

  Vincent stood up and went into the kitchen. I heard him tell Bethany, “I’m really sorry for the broken glass. I’ll repair the entertainment center when I get home, okay?” He grabbed the food Bethany had made as well as a few other assorted items and walked to the door, “Goodbye everyone!” He looked at me and gave me a flirtatious smile before repeating, “Goodbye!” I waved from the couch while Bethany rushed to the door and waved as he left.

  As soon as Vincent drove off Bethany acted as if nothing had happened. In fact she said, “Before I surprise you with my gifts I’m going to give you another full spa treatment!” I certainly was not going to protest. We headed into the bedroom and she spread out towels onto the bed. She re-applied dye to my hair and had me lay down. As she began her full-body treatment I wondered what Vincent was up to at that moment. This time I hoped that something would happen to him – like a collision with a semi-truck. At least that would save me from any fear of what he expected from me in October. And besides, I would then have Bethany to myself – and considering how nice it was to be the center of someone’s attention, like I was at that moment, I could certainly get used to a life of her total devotion to me.

  Eventually she got around to giving me a more extensive make-over than the previous times. She applied blood red nail polish on all my fingernails and toenails. Then she proceeded to adorn my face with make-up, blush, all one could ask for at a salon I supposed. Then she left the room and came back with an assortment of bags that were filled with clothes. She smiled and said, “Surprise, I really hope you like everything my dear.”

  I began to try on the things she had chosen for me. The bags were from var
ious stores in Portland. It seemed she had shopped in the young-misses sections since the styles were more geared to the party-girl image – tight fitting and embroidered in shiny little patterns on the skirts and tops that exposed my midriff. I looked in the mirror as I tried on the outfits and could not determine if they were designed for wearing at a hip-hop party, a country music festival or an erotic fair exposition. I had never worn such outfits, but I really could see the excitement in her eyes as I tried everything on.

  Once I thought I had gone through all the clothes she said she had just one more thing for me to try on. She brought out a bag from what I had always thought was one of the most expensive shops in Portland. She took out a gorgeous black evening gown and handed it to me. She seemed to show the excitement of a schoolgirl herself as she held her hands over her mouth and giggled. Sure enough, it fit perfectly over my body. It came down to my knees, and seemed to contour to my form perfectly. The back was modest, but the front plunged down enough that, since you could not wear a bra with it, you would have to make sure you kept good posture to avoid any embarrassing accidents if you were in public.

  Bethany put some extra make-up on my upper chest, styled my now deep black hair and asked me to look at myself. I looked at the image in the mirror and just said “Wow!” Bethany asked, “What do you think?” Then she put her hands on my shoulders and said “Wait, I almost forgot!” And the grabbed a shoe box and asked me to try on one last thing. I took out a pair of high-heeled designer shoes. I had dress shoes but none quite so…flashy. I put them on and struggled to keep my balance. After all I had not had any shoes on until the road trip with Vincent for months, and no dress shoes on of any type, and never anything like these. Bethany asked me what I thought. I looked in the mirror again and thought something she probably would not want me to say out loud – that if I were to meet up with someone that looked like I did right then I would do my best to go home with her that evening. However, I played it safe and said, “It’s so beautiful Bethany, you should not have…I mean it must have cost you a fortune.” Bethany rolled her eyes and said, “It did but you are worth every penny!”

 

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