by Lucian Bane
“To cure and heal,” the man sang in a deranged voice, “the sins of the fallen seed.”
Panic made his breaths ragged at the mention of curing and healing.
“Let’s begin!” he boomed.
Solomon braced for pain. His chair began to turn. Slowly. He strained to see what was happening as he continued to turn in a stationary circle, gaining speed. He gripped the edges of the chair as it went faster and faster. Jesus Christ, what the fuck? What were they planning? To launch him into the wall?
After several minutes of spinning, he became confused and disoriented. And nauseated. Oh God. He grit his teeth and struggled to maintain whatever control he could. The need to throw up grew worse. Please, stop. Oh God. Don’t vomit, don’t vomit.
But the spinning refused to stop. The spin was fast enough to press his body into the chair, and he finally surrendered to that pull, his head hanging to the right as he tried to keep from throwing up.
He lost the battle. His guts heaved over and over while he spun forever. The singing started up again, joyful and triumphant, while he wondered if he could die that way. Then they chanted, louder and louder, drowning out Chaos’s broken wails. Broken and sad. Defeated.
He lost track of time and wasn’t sure how long he spun before he realized they were moving him. His eyes were stuck in a rolled position in his head, everything whirling as his feet dragged. He was shoved inside something and heard metal latching. As he lay there, he fought to breathe around the vomit soaked material clinging to his head. He realized the chanting was getting stronger and louder. Oh God. It wasn’t over.
His stomach heaved again and he wretched loudly several times, growling in effort to make it stop.
His body moved with the instinct to escape, and he made his way on his hands and knees. Crawling a ways, he encountered a curved floor. He felt around him, his hands touching on cage-like walls. The chanting was at a terrifying frenzy as the floor beneath him groaned. Solomon stumbled to his feet, placing his hands on the leaning cage wall before him. He held on, but it moved, forcing him to let go. The floor was moving he realized, and he stepped to keep from falling.
It finally hit him as it moved faster and faster. He was in some kind of wheel-like cage. He stumbled, trying to stay on his feet as the wheel turned. Were they going to spin it so fast he couldn’t keep up?
He didn’t understand why. Why were they doing this? What did it mean? His mind seemed to need to tie logic to the strange act, but he couldn’t find any. It was like a joke. Or a sucky kiddie ride at a cheap fair that you wanted to get off of because it was stupid and not even fast. It just moved enough to annoy you and keep you having to hurry and not fall.
The odd torture went on for what felt like hours. He was exhausted and getting dizzy, stumbling and falling, fighting to get up before he lost all footing. But the turning refused to end, and he finally fell and never got back up. He tumbled over and over, his head hitting on the cage wall as he did, a rag doll rolling around in a cage for the Master’s amusement. All while the chanting and wails of Chaos bounced around in his head with everything else.
Finally, peace claimed him as he slipped into darkness. He hoped it was death. Or a coma. Or the lobotomy, anything but what he was enduring.
Chapter Five
Solomon woke to the same broom sweeping sound. Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. Followed by softness on his face. Warmth.
Chaos. Holding him again. Raining warm kisses all over his cold face. That’s all he ever wanted, all he ever needed. To lose himself in her. In this. Solomon realized he was lying next to her in darkness. It didn’t matter what darkness it was. He wrapped her in his arms and legs with the cold floor biting into his skin. They clung to each other. He didn’t want to think about what was coming. What had come. Or why even.
“I’m scared,” she gushed into his chest bitterly. “I’ve never been so scared Solomon. I’m so scared. I’m so scared.”
God. God help them. He held her tighter, no words of comfort coming to him. No words of any kind coming. Only fear and terror of knowing she was right to cry. She was right to be terrified.
“We need to try and escape.” He didn’t know where the foolish words came from inside him. But there they were, like a rare strain of resistance.
“How?” she whispered in despair.
Yeah, that was the problem, wasn’t it? “I don’t know, we just have to.” He knew they couldn’t go out this way. He’d rather die trying to escape than face being lobotomized by these animals. “When they come for us, we need to be ready. We need to fight.”
She let out a bitter sob and nodded. “Okay. I’ll do my best. I’ll do my best. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorrrrryyy.”
It was his turn to make the shhh, shhh shhh sounds and rock her as they lay on the floor, clinging to each other, fighting every few seconds to get even closer than they were.
He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but he woke to the sound of metal. And before he could react, he realized the door had opened and shut.
“What’s going on?” Solomon whispered.
“Food,” Chaos said.
At the mention of the word, Solomon realized he was starving. They both crawled to the smell and located it in two seconds. Like half crazed animals, they clawed at the nearly cold mush in the large bowl, shoveling it into their mouths. The sounds of their gasps, grunts, and loud smacking filled his ears as they fought to share every drop.
“Here, you finish it,” she suddenly said. “I can’t eat another bite.”
“Eat anyway, you need strength.”
“You need it more,” she argued, a sob in her throat.
“Together,” he insisted harshly. “We eat all of it together.”
She obeyed with tiny sobs in her throat, and when they were all done, he sat back against the wall, his heart hurting. That they’d been forced, reduced, to what felt like the most degrading thing. She huddled next to him, snuggling as close as she could get. He hugged her tight.
“What do you think they’re planning?” He couldn’t stand not knowing, the not knowing was more terrifying than anything.
“Six days of preparation,” she whispered. “He’s letting you heal a little.”
His stomach churned with that news. “How Christian of him,” he tried to joke, but his voice cracked with fear. “Do you have any idea what he has planned?”
“No,” she said quickly. “He likes to do things differently. I’ve never seen that wheel before, the one you…”
“Shhh,” he soothed when she choked up. “Wasn’t so bad really, I was just tired.” The truth was, it was the oddest form of torture he never could have imagined if he’d tried.
“So I don’t know what he’ll do. Every time he did anything to me, it was different each time.”
His heart clenched hard in his chest and he pulled her tight to him. “I’m sorry,” he strained, kissing the top of her head with his eyes shut. “So sorry.”
“I’m the sorry one,” she cried bitterly. “I’m the idiot!” she yelled into his chest before giving in to full blown, inconsolable crying.
Solomon let her cry. She needed to let it out, he couldn’t imagine what she was feeling and suffering. The guilt alone could crush her mind. “Shhhh, shhhh,” he whispered, rocking her the way she’d done to him. “I got you,” he soothed. “I love you. I love you.”
His words seemed to drag up more agony in her, leaving him feeling more helpless with every second. “Hey, listen,” he said, shaking her a little. “Shh, listen to me. Listen to me.” She fought to get control, her breaths hiccupping loudly as Solomon caressed her face in the dark. “We need to have a plan,” he said. “Let’s talk about a plan. Let’s talk about all the things we want to do after we escape, okay? Like… have a wedding? Would you like that? Would you like to have a wedding at a huge church? Or maybe at the beach? Or on the highest mountain top? I bet you would like that, wouldn’t you? Tell me what your dress will look like, Beautiful. Talk to me. How many
children would you like to have? Five? Ten?”
Chaos sobbed and grabbed his face, kissing him. “We have to escape,” she gasped in his mouth.
“Yes,” he answered, kissing her back with the same. “That’s it, Beautiful. We’re going to escape, you and I. And we’re going to run away and have a beautiful life together, do you hear me?” His voice croaked on the strained words, and she nodded repeatedly before kissing down his chest. Realizing what she was doing, he pulled her up.
“Not until I bathe, Beautiful.”
“I don’t care,” she whispered distraught, fighting to get to his groin.
“Please Chaos, no.” He was covered in dried vomit still and every other embarrassing body fluid. “Kiss me, just kiss me,” he said, pulling her to his mouth.
It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was all they had. And they devoured each other in that way for minutes on end. Solomon pulled her down to the floor with him, embracing her in his arms the best he could. His muscles trembled from fatigue and before he realized it, he’d done what he swore to not do.
He fell asleep.
The door opened so suddenly that Solomon didn’t have a chance to think. But his body seemed to remember his plan to escape, and he immediately lunged at the ankles of the one with the light. Hope surged in him when they grunted and fell to the floor. Chaos screamed, the feral sound of a crazy woman attacking.
Get them! he screamed to himself.
Solomon fought to incapacitate the person he held in the clutches of his fingers vaguely aware of more voices entering the room.
“He’s fighting!” the man under him gasped just as Solomon’s finger sank into the corner of his eye. He roared in agony and pain exploded in the back of Solomon’s head with a zooooooong vibrating in his ears as everything went dark.
****
Solomon blinked rapidly, bringing fractured images into focus. He was lying down. In the auditorium. His head lolled and he tried to move. Restrained. He felt them at his ankles, knees… wrists and shoulders. The Master was in a full blown sermon, and the audience roared and clapped and banged their feet until his chest shook with it. Amen and hallelujah. Praise God.
Never in his life had words of divinity struck such terror in him. He began to fight and struggle. What was coming? Where was Chaos? He strained to look behind him. He couldn’t see her. He couldn’t hear her. What had they done? What if they’d hurt her?
“Chaoooooooooos!” he roared.
Her scream pierced the air, long and broken. It shattered him. Oh God, it shattered him. He answered her back with a long roar of fury. Then another, and another, fighting to be louder than the entire multitude.
A dirty cloth was suddenly forced into his mouth followed by a wide piece of tape. All that was left was Chaos’s screaming and wailing. They didn’t silence her. It was almost like they liked it, wanted it. And he suddenly wished with all he had that she’d not give them anything they wanted. Not one thing. Not one fucking thing.
The man he assumed to be Master appeared above him in that same hooded robe, which covered his entire head and face, reminding him of a rotten turnip. Why did he hide? Why did he do this?
“And the Lord did not spare even his only son, his only begotten son to be punished for the sins of mankind. He even suffered him to torture and punishment, putting upon him all the unrighteous fury of evil. Right into his body.”
Solomon fought to see what he was doing at the foot of the table. He held a wooden bowl and slowly turned it. Agony tore through Solomon and he screamed, feeling like the liquid pouring on him went clear through his feet. He squirmed and jerked against the restraints as the monster continued his sermon, emptying the horrific contents in the bowl along both his legs.
His body shook with pain and Chaos’s screams filled his head. He held on to the sound, needing something, anything to grasp on to. Don’t stop screaming, don’t let me go, don’t let me go.
Solomon’s eyes rolled up in his head and seemed to never return as he jerked around and fought for escape. The Master poured his liquid fire on his stomach next, making his guts feel as though they’d melt out of him. At his chest, it stole his breath and he choked for air around the dirty rag.
“There now,” the Master said, removing the cloth. “Can’t have you choke to death during preparation.”
Solomon’s screams tore out of him until he had no more breath.
“And now, for the birching, my son.”
Solomon was suddenly being freed and yanked off the table. His breaths huffed as half roars as his head spun. They forced him onto something narrow, and the odd shape and angle of it forced him to stoop. Only his upper chest was secured tight to the hard surface.
“As our Lord endured holy scourging, so our son shall likewise take part in that divine glory.”
Pain shot through Solomon’s back and buttocks, taking the strength from his legs. But the way he was tied required him to dangle in the air, limbs trembling as the Master continued with his sick sermon. Every other solemn word came with the bite of pain on his backside, reaching from his shoulders down to his ankles.
Solomon’s face pressed into the hard surface and his gaze landed on Chaos who was being dragged closer, forcing her to see. That this was her punishment, her suffering, he realized. To watch. Watch the one she loved be tortured and hurt. She cried and screamed, but he didn’t hear it. He only heard the walloping of his racing heart in his ears, and the sick thwack of tearing flesh.
Shaking violently, he grit his teeth together and held his gaze tight to her face—to her eyes. He marked his mind with the pleading agony in the depths, the only lifeline he had left as he prayed. He prayed. Not for death this time, but for life. He wanted to live. Live and make them all pay for what they were doing to them.
Chapter Six
Solomon didn’t remember being untied or taken back to the dark cell. He woke cold and in agony. But worse than that, he was confused and couldn’t find Chaos.
“Chaos,” he croaked, crawling on all fours in the dark, fear and panic stealing his breath. “Chaos, please,” he gasped. “Answer me. Answer me.” He searched the entire room and found it empty. Making his way back to the door, he put his mouth to the crack and called for her until he was screaming her name over and over.
Not alone. He couldn’t do this alone. Not alone. Please God, not alone, not alone. He collapsed in pain onto the floor and curled up in a ball, trying to escape the torture in his body. It never stopped. It just stayed, getting worse with every second.
Where was Chaos? Why did they take her from him? Why would they take her from him? What day was it? How many days had it been? He shook as he fought to remember while wanting to not remember anything.
He’d fallen asleep, and this time, when the door to his cell opened, Solomon couldn’t move. He could only lie there, trembling and locked in pain, praying Chaos would come.
A sob hit his ears like a hurricane of hope, followed by cold fingers that made him jolt in pain.
“Leave the light!” she shrieked. “I need to see what the fuck I’m doing!”
Her last words growled with a biting fury and Solomon struggled to open his eyes, needing to see her. She began to sooth him as the door shut and locked. “I’m here, I’m here,” she whispered as he managed to unlock his arms. They shook uncontrollably as he reached for her. “Oh God,” she barely managed, gripping his hands with hers. “Okay, okay, I got you,” she said more firmly. “I’ve got some stuff to help with the pain.” Her voice was bitter and breaking again. “I’m going to get you fixed up, okay?”
“Chaos,” he gasped when her lips rained soft kisses over his face. “Chaos.” He fought to remember the words to say what was over flowing in him. “Chaos,” was all he could remember.
“I’m here baby, I’m here. I’m going to make it better, shhhhh.”
She began by making him take a couple of pills. He swallowed them without thought, praying for relief. As the minutes passed, she covered his body i
n some kind of ointment. With each breath he took and every careful touch she administered, the pain became a little less.
He tried not to think about why they were healing him. Because the reason only brought terror. They didn’t want him dead. They wanted to bring him to the brink and pull him back. He was being pulled back and that meant he had to go to the brink again.
He had to hang on. He had to somehow hang on so that he’d be ready. There would be a moment, a moment would come and he had to be ready. Ready to take it and save them. He had to believe that.
****
Solomon woke again, and panic immediately hit him. He was out of the cell. His back pressed against a hard, cold surface. Legs bound and open wide. Arms the same. And Chaos. Chaos screaming again.
“No, no, no,” she shrieked, desperately. “Please, Master, not that, please.”
“Daughter, he must be prepared,” the deep voice said with a near compassionate gentleness. “You know this. How quickly you left us and forgot. Just as the queen predicted.” The final words held a deep sorrow.
“Listen to me, listen to me Master, listen,” Chaos shrilled.
Sharp pain bit at Solomon’s inner thighs near his balls and he yelled, his body trembling. He fought against the restraints at his wrists and ankles. He looked around, his heart hammering at seeing the antique looking equipment used to electrocute. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He growled and grit his teeth, clenching all his muscles in preparation.
“The curse is wrong!” she screamed, “The curse is all wrong. Don’t do this! The curse tricked us, the curse lied! You don’t have to do this, you don’t!”
“We’ll start low. Two hundred. Work our way to four.”
The pain came hot and hard, shaking him like a rag doll. He fought the violent hammering through his bones until his teeth banged in his skull and his blood felt on fire. He held on with all he had, and it wasn’t long before there was only pain, always pain, no beginning or end.
He didn’t know when it stopped. He just became aware of her screaming. There was no pain. He was numb, couldn’t feel anything. Was he dead?