by Poppet
Laughing, I say to the door protecting the suka (cunt), “I speak your language bible boy. You preach and give book to read from god, and the book says ‘But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive their sins.’ Matthew 6:15. I don’t forgive you! I will never forgive you! The devil is going to eat your face off and use your nose as pisshole for his bladder!”
The bastard looks at me from the safety of the door, like it’s gonna protect him. I hiss through the gap, “Sukin syn bly (son of a bitch)! Do you know who the devil is? You think me possessed? I tell you secret pizdayob (cunt fucker), I am possessed! I am in the love with the devil, and I met him!”
“You’re fucking crazy, baby. How can you meet the devil? Satan doesn’t make house calls.”
He mocks me. He think Polina is simple. Mikah make that mistake. Polina is not simple no more.
I glare at the man in charge of all of us and I hate him with everything on me, even my toe nails. “Lucifer fell from heaven, and he came to me when I lived with Mikah. He came to me and it’s true, he is God’s favourite and he is beautiful. I am possessed with the love for him. He make me feel good, but your god make me feel bad! You think the devil doesn’t walk this Earth the same as your god? You stupid! Dolbo yeb! (dumb fuck!). YOU STUPID! He come for you! I left him message and he comes for you!”
“How did you leave him a message?” interrogates Disciple.
“In blood! It’s pure! Purer than you and your empty prayer!” The hui (dick) walks away from me, but I still see him, yelling after him, “He’s coming for you! He’s going to kill you! He’s going to kill all of you! Hey, you hear me disciple boy? You hear me? Oh and he has a message for you! Eedee nah hooy! (fuck you!)”
Slumping back I giggle. No more bad can they do. The earthquakes inside me are still now. The pain is in coma inside me. When it wakes then I be hurt, but for now I live on my faith that one man cares enough about Polina to risk these walls to rescue her.
And I feel it. I feel the bud grow inside.
Hope.
Victor gives me hope. He’s the devil, the Lucifer, and he’s coming because he promised he would.
I am possessed with the love for Victor. Still, in this black hole place, when I close my eyes I inhale the forest he smells like. He smells of Russian spring after rain. He smells of best memories.
His laugh is like the vibration of music through a tall speaker, warm and full and making hair on end. He make me goose-bump and good shiver, and my lady flower tingles when I think of him like I did when Mikah told me to masturbate. I’m no longer conflicted. I can do anything now.
I drum on the door with my heels, listening to a man weeping down the hallway. “Stop your cry! They want your tears! Never give them what they want! Never surrender your life to the shits who think they can kidnap and hold hostage. Polina be hostage many times and look at me, now I fight because tears never buy freedom!”
He mumbles, and I shake and rattle the door with my rage.
I am hostile now. Meek doesn’t work no longer. Meek is for the weak. I only stop when dead. I want to hurt them the way they hurt me.
“Fuck you, God! Your laws are not good, your rage is insanity, and one day soon your son will come to teach you the truth! You are a liar but he is the truth! You hurt people, but he loves them! Fuck you! He will rescue me because he loves what you call sinner! Polina not sinner, never was, and you are not god because if you were you would see in my heart and know you tell lies to me!”
Standing from the door I step to the middle of my cell and begin again, doing the attack moves I watched on Mikah’s DVDs. Polina no longer victim. Polina now mighty woman. Mikah make me woman, and women fight for what is right, they do not hide in corner like child. I will fight them every day until he comes. The saviour always comes for his lost sheep. The bible says so.
•
Peter-John:
She’s so far gone there’s no coming back, and yet the challenge of Polina, the sheer resilience in her spirit, it makes me hard for her.
Polina Scott is sexy as hell. Literally. Of course Satan makes house calls for her, I would. Looking at Alpha, I raise my eyebrows. “Are you listening to this?”
“How can I miss it. That cage and passage are like amplifiers. She’s filling this Sinnergog with rebellion louder than the daily sermon.”
“What if …” I hesitate, afraid of his reaction to my thoughts. I don’t particularly feel like having hot wax poured on me for sharing doubts in his almighty power. He calls it anointing oil. Anointing oil my fucking hairy ass. If memory serves me well they anointed kings with crocodile oil, not liquid wax.
“Spit it out, John. It can’t be any worse than that filthy angel.”
Steeling myself for an impending retaliation, I say, “What if she’s not mad? What if Victor is alive and this is a warning?”
God stands so fast that my pulse starts jackhammering. “I was there, you were there. He couldn’t survive that.” He shakes his head, staring at the screens, watching Polina go through her manic paces. That chick wants a fight and I’m wearying of it.
“There’s no body,” I dare to challenge him.
Turning to me, he says deep and low and very threatening, “No, because of traffic. He’s dead in an unmarked grave somewhere. Keep this up and there’ll be another body to cremate.”
He glowers at her screen, watching the defiance and sacrilege. Women do not fight, they are for sucking and fucking. She’s burning a hole through his last neuron.
“Bring her to the Tribulation Table. It’s time this whore learned I AM GOD!”
Me and which army? Fuck. I need Evan to help me subdue her for transport upstairs. She can brain him. He can do the hard labour while I hogtie the cunt.
•
Evan:
The key scrapes and I know our new lord and master comes to me again. I like this new guy, he’s a total fuckwit. He doesn’t drug me, he doesn’t preach to me, he just treats me like I’m in jail. After the hardships I’ve been through I finally have a disciple I have a hope of turning to my will.
“Sixty-Six,” he says when he fills the doorway.
I’m overjoyed because I’m bigger than this shithead by a quantum mile. He doesn’t even question that I workout religiously in my cell. I’m not going down again without a fight to the death.
“Yes my lord?” I reply, hiding my devious smirk. I do the dance because these fucktards thrive on the ego boost. Same shit, different day in hell. Bending low, I say reverently, “How can I serve the Lord today?”
“Help me get number One to the torture chamber.”
“Yes Lord,” I murmur, standing and pretending I am wrapped around his pinkie and overjoyed to be of assistance.
Number One is that new chick. She screams hellfire every time they release her from her cell. I hope to highest heaven they don’t break her. Finally I have an ally in here. I need an army, and with her at least we’ll be an army of two.
Trudging down the stairs, the noise reaches me first. Metal on metal. It’s enough to skin my scalp. It’s an unholy sound.
As we approach her door it rattles with violence, her sexy voice hissing through the gap, “I smell you, hui (dick). I smell the sweat and stink. Satan licks you when you sleep.”
Jesus Christ. She’s hideous. I’m not afraid of God or his minions, but this chick has a way of twisting her voice, playing into their dogma of possession.
PJ pushes me in front of him, spinning the safe lock on her door with me as a human shield. Coward. Interested I watch the number combination, inwardly laughing like a maniac. I bet it’s the same on all our doors. 6.6.6. We should’ve known this, cos it’s a no brainer.
“Open the door,” commands Peter-John.
•
Polina:
I have the tray Disciple Boy left behind and I warble it against the door, cackling at the watery breathing on the other side of the barrier. Polina know fear, and the new bible boy has fear for Polina. I
no more play dead, now I play mind game. Until they bring me Victor’s head on a platter, like John the Baptist, they cannot kill my fight. He comes, I know it. He promised. I do not know Victor good, but I know he is not a man to break word. He break heart, he break head, he no break word.
My door unlocks without key. I hear key for other prisoners, but never for me. I know why because I read Bible. It says the lawmakers hid the key to heaven, that’s why my door has no key.
Woman is key to heaven. They hide strong woman from world, they hide their torture from the world, because inside me is the holy of holies. My body give life to baby, man cannot give life to baby.
Baby breathe through momma, baby grow whole through momma, baby receive new spirit when inside momma. No man can that do. Woman is holy of holies. Like the white lilies all around the inner temple they dress us in white, because even though they choose to forget deep down they know we are the holiest. The spirit enters us for baby. We are always hand in hand with the Holy Spirit. They can beat and curse Polina, but they no can break the holy in me.
They so stupid. The holy isn’t in me, it’s all around me, step for step, at my side, using Polina to reach filthy men. Man enter woman to find that peace. They call it sex but they mistake. The peace is the moment when the holy works through woman to finally show man that woman cannot be corrupted. Woman is channel, like gypsy reads fortune. Polina is the link. That’s why they try so hard to harm me. They want the truth silenced. The truth will never be mute.
Woman can never be commodity.
Before door swings wide, I hiss through the blisters and scabs on my raw lips, “Woe to you, experts in the Mosaic Law! For you have taken away the key to knowledge.” Luke 11:52
The big man I see before and know as Evan stand in front of Peter-John. I smile at him, tilting head. “Why you are here? You wish harm to me also?”
With Peter-John behind him he gives me a wink where disciple boy cannot see. “It is my duty,” he says with deep and dark voice, but his mouth smiles and he gives me the teeniest thumbs up.
I have friend in concentration camp. This is good, da.
He is friend if he is enemy of my enemy.
Peter-John says, “Don’t trust her, Sixty-Six. She’s murdered three men so far.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he looks me over. I give him middle finger. “Judge me not dolboeb (fuckhead), lest you be judged yourself.”
“I’m here to escort you upstairs,” he tells me, approaching me with his hands out wide, like he’s to catch me.
“Why you Sixty-Six? Satan make you favourite?” I ask him.
“I’m a false prophet, but even then I am still loyal to god,” he says gruffly to me.
I know wrath and visceral hatred, but this man do not hate Polina. He no wish harm to me, he do what is told. Like me. For too long Polina do as told. Now Polina do what she wants and to fuck with men and their orders.
Giggling low, I fling tray up to Sixty-Six face, swiftly kicking him in crotch. “Don’t make Victor kill you too!”
Peter-John has stun gun, zapping Polina until eyeballs rattle and tears cry. Cannot move. Am in burn so bad. He shoves me with foot to face floor, smearing grit into mouth. Cannot even cough when eyeball sandpaper.
The terror of Mikah’s basement revisits Polina like Baba Yaga nightmare. Arms tie to ankle and they lift me up, carrying Polina away.
I make devil screech, blood and drool dropping a snail trail up the steps with me. Polina life always wrong. When be life right?
For what did I do for mankind to hate woman so much?
~ Chapter 15 ~
And ye shall trample (tread as in a winepress) down the wicked;
for they shall be ashes (scattered) under the soles of your feet
~ Malachi 4:1-3
Victor:
JUDE COMES ALONE, dressed in clothing so dark he simply becomes a shadow. He’s one of the four. I have four, and now it’s time to gather my horsemen and ride. I keep walking like I don’t see him, entering the steps down below street level, moving under the church to the sepulchre.
His footfalls make no sound, just the crush of loose clods crunching under his weight. It was best to come on foot to this rendezvous, it’s less conspicuous parking further afield and meeting in the clandestine cloister. I walk until I am in pitch darkness, beyond the pool of the ancient lanterns. When he reaches me we hug in brotherhood. As a brother I kiss his cheek, then submit to the twenty thousand handshake combinations he’s renown for.
“It gladdens me to see such a friendly face,” I say, grinning at his jubilation highlighted in shades of ghostly glimmers.
“We have to move on, quickly. Where are you headed?” he asks, after thumping my shoulder in affection.
“Sons of Cain. Alpha would be there.”
Jude nods, hissing softly, “You haven’t been alert. Polina left a distress call for you in her window.”
“Shit.” Now I’m instantly wired with adrenaline pumping. “A red flower?”
“Her blood. A shit tonne of blood. She painted the whole window with it. I fear for her life. Philip was there to witness. The Bratva caught her.”
“Is she dead?” I demand, rage coursing through every sinew. I’m pumped and ready to smash something. If Alpha took her from me too there will be no mercy for any of them – not in this life or the next.
He shakes his head, keeping his baritone so low I struggle to listen to his words, “She’s gone to the Sinnergog.”
“Then I must go there. Fuck the Sons of Cain.”
Jude smirks. “You think I’m retarded, Vengeance? The understudy rides through the night. The Sons bearing the mark of Cain will be rejoined to their blueprint before dawn.”
“They’re going up sky high like Sodom and Gomorrah?”
He nods, chuckling. “Where are you parked? Are you packed? I have a safe house. We gotta move, fast, because your lass just ran out of time.”
“My lass?” I argue.
“She is, Victor, don’t play dumb with me. I know you have slain Shauna, and I know Polina got under your skin. You never go to a recruit more than once, yet you went back four times, even when it was to just watch her.”
“Fuck you,” I laugh, finding his constant surveillance both intimidating and endearing. Then his warning hits home, and I whisper, “Why has she run out of time?”
“Alpha just demanded one on one time with her.”
Shit! The last time Alpha had Shauna for one on one time she was never the same again. He broke her psychologically, emotionally, spiritually, physically. “Where the fuck is he?” I growl.
“Sinnergog.”
That’s seventeen hours away from here, unless he has birds in the sky. “Can we hitch a ride on wings?” I interrogate.
He nods, already slinking away, returning to the pavement. “I’m getting my car, meet me at the traffic light on Main. Time is not our friend.”
I rush out in a fast walk, up the steps and along the same path, jogging past him as if out exercising late, saying as I do, “My army is in transit, I’m waiting for them to convene.”
He says in passing, looking left and right to cross the street as if we do not interact, “I’ve sent word. No time, Vengeance. The Horsemen take to the skies tonight.”
My blood is cold, my skin is hot, and my nature mushrooms like the cancer it is.
Victor is dead.
Now I am Vengeance.
The time has come to judge every man according to his deeds.
•
Polina:
The steel table eats my skin with bitter cold, the leather straps holding me down so rough and tight. God walks around me like a madman raving, and I struggle to watch him with only one eye. My right eye is taped closed after Disciple Boy punched me in the head. The Ucheniki were there, wanting payback for Mikah’s death. I know the Bratva say I did it but I do not recall it at all. I am so lost here. There are times when I feel so very little and wish so hard for one man on this Earth to
hold me with love and keep me safe.
No one protect Polina. Not once. Only Polina protect Polina, and now she can’t because God is angry with the wrath. He hunts around me, punching next to my head, hissing in my face. “Do you know Victor?”
“Da.” I spit in his eye.
He punches me so hard I fear my skull is now flat on the table. I no feel the pain, I float above us like the angel I am. So dizzy from the fists. “How!?” he bellows, and spittle splashes my face.
“He fall from heaven, hui. He fall so hard he has suffer in his eyes.” I watch the father, and in him I cannot see the son. “He can’t be yours, he is everything beautiful and right, you are everything ugly and wrong.”
Evan looks ready to faint, clearing his throat, saying for me, “She’s goading you. She’s clearly out of her fucking mind.”
God rounds on him, flicking his whip left and right like a tail. “I know that Sixty-six, I know it! Satan always knew how to push my buttons, but even the angels can’t save this whore of heaven. She knows my one and only weakness and she just used it against me.”
He has a weakness? I shout hoarsely, “Hallelujah! He no yours! He belong to a pure heart, and you Alpha have no heart at all.”
The whip cracks and I flex up, screaming again. It is an acid so thin, running rivers of blood in miniature estuaries and veins. I will bleed to death this night, and I do not care. I hate him and now I know he will hate me too.
“Polina, Kisha, listen to me very very carefully,” he growls to me, his voice getting louder as it grows closer. He leans to my ear, my hair in his hand, still stinking of the burn where he torched me. “I am GOD! It is a sin to love the son more than the father! HE is the SON. He is NOT GOD! Where is he?”
The flame blows like the wind, my ear now alive with the brimstone. I can hear no more because I shriek for the torment. I scream and scream while he blisters the skin off my ear with the flame. Blood burrows through my hearing with the thumping of a ritual drum, and I forget to breathe.