by Mav Skye
Jenn had once told a story about a wolf who had deceived and gobbled a little girl. She had lain in the belly of the beast for three days and three nights before a huntsman found the fat wolf, slew him and discovered the girl inside.
The story had horrified Tina. She tried to forget it, but late at night her thoughts wandered to the little girl. She wondered what the girl thought about as she lay in the dark, utterly engulfed by the one who had deceived her. She had no escape from its heartbeat, no relief. Its heartbeat became her heartbeat, the wolf’s darkness became the little girl’s darkness, and even when rescued, Tina suspected the horror had continued. The little girl was born again from a womb of despair, helplessness, and a deep black evil that had filled her lungs. Evil that she’d never be able to purge.
As she breathed in and out, surviving and nothing more, the story once more came to mind. Only this time, Tina didn’t wonder what the little girl had thought about. She knew. The answer was nothing. Besides the story of the wolf, her mind was blank and black as the bottom of the deepest lake. It wasn’t that she was unaware, for she was fully and utterly aware of the pulse of the darkness, the beast’s heartbeat encompassed her. She breathed the same despair and inky midnight into her soul the little girl had. Only, there would be no rebirth for Tina. She would die in the belly of the beast.
She focused on the heartbeat; let it carry her through the muffled waters of death’s silent song, when Tina heard a voice far, far away. It was gentle and sure.
To survive, you must become.
She focused in on the lovely lilt of the only thing she knew to be tender and true. She breathed in, out, in.
Again the voice: To survive, you must become.
The blank midnight of Tina’s mind began to squirm and twist like a deep sea jellyfish. It glided its long legs towards the voice, and as it did, Tina became aware of her limbs, of her consciousness, and when the voice drew near, Tina fully opened her eyes to the darkness of her reality.
She tilted her face up and discovered her statement to Tony earlier in the night had been true after all. The monster ate all the stars, and now she lay in the belly of the wolf. And like the little girl, she wasn’t the same. Something was different. Very different.
She touched the ground by her side, hoping for the familiarity and comfort of the one thing that would soothe the darkness of her mind: the silk of her Supergirl cape. But instead, she felt the cold, bloody cotton of Tony’s bed sheet. The wolf man wrapped inside it.
The old Tina would have cringed away, crying and calling out for Tony and Aunt Jenn, but she wasn’t that girl anymore. She was transforming, becoming—just like the voice had whispered.
She couldn’t be Tina anymore, though she remembered her. She remembered the places she had lived, the houses, her mother selling her, the people who had abused and raped her (and Tony). Cruel faces flashed through her mind like shuffled index cards. The face she landed on was the tall man with the steel eyes and a scraggly mustache. He had driven them to hell. She thought of the cages he had kept them in, the food deprivation, the lack of sunshine within the deep, dark underground dungeon. Tony had eaten wolf spiders that dared to crawl between the bars, but Tina couldn’t, no, wouldn’t do that.
That was before they were put into coffins and transferred in the middle of the night and put into the church’s basement.
The first face she saw was Aunt Jenn’s, though Jenn said the priest had been the one to rescue her. She couldn’t remember that. In the basement was when she’d felt the transformation start taking place, the one that was happening now, but Aunt Jenn had halted it.
She’d turned Tina into a Supergirl instead.
But, now Tina didn’t have her cape. She didn’t have Aunt Jenn or Tony. She didn’t even have fear. The soft voice spoke again:
To survive, you must become.
“Become what?” she asked the gentle voice in the darkness, ever aware of the dead bad man, the very one she’d killed, lying beside her.
The voice replied: What name do you wish?
Tina thought of a young woman she had once seen on a TV show at the bad house. She was pretty, smart, clad in black leather, skilled in martial arts and weapons. The woman had taken revenge on the men who had screwed up her life. Tina had liked that, wanted that, too. And now she recalled the woman’s name. She spoke to the voice, “Henrietta.”
The voice said: To become, you must forget.
She asked, “Forget what?”
Forget Tina.
Tina didn’t feel anything, but a single tear dripped down her cheek as she lay on the cold hard ground, deep in the belly of a beast, the stars torn and eaten to pieces—like her. “But I can’t.”
The voice sounded again, Tina can’t, but Henrietta can. Henrietta can choose when to remember and when to forget, when to feel, and when to let go.
“Is Henrietta a Supergirl like Aunt Jenn?”
The voice stalled, silent for a long moment before it was there again. Supergirls want justice. Henrietta wants to survive.
Tina thought of the faces of the men who had wronged her, her brother. “I want justice, too.”
Justice is overrated, I should know.
The voice is even softer, gentler than before: To survive, you must become.
Tina swallowed, and nodded. “Henrietta.”
The voice mimicked her: Henrietta.
Henrietta shifted the sheet between her fingers. Physically, she could feel the stickiness of the blood, the cold material, but inside, her heart was as blank as a piece of paper. She liked it, embraced it, and asked one more question: “Who are you?”
May.
“Aunt May?”
Yes.
“Why can’t I see you?”
Because, I only exist in your mind.
“Aunt Jenn’s, too?”
Yes.
Henrietta paused, thinking. “Does that make us crazy?”
To some, yes. But Henrietta does whatever it takes to survive. You are a survivor, Henrietta. Remember that. Forget everything else. Now repeat that to me.
Henrietta nodded. “I am a survivor. I am Henrietta.”
Do you hear that, child?
Far, far above, Henrietta could hear voices outside the belly of the wolf. She heard cutting noises. A clump of dirt fell and landed on her leg. A beam of light waved around.
Jenn and your brother are coming for you. When you see the rope, grab it and hold on.
Henrietta didn’t feel anything, not hope or joy. She just lay there, rubbing the bloody sheet between her fingers. She said what she knew was polite. “Thank you, Aunt May.”
You’re welcome child. No matter what happens. You survive. You protect your Aunt Jenn.
“I survive,” repeated Henrietta.
And protect your Aunt Jenn.
“And protect Aunt Jenn.”
Good girl.
The voices above became louder. Henrietta heard Tony’s voice, “Tina! Tina, please answer me. Are you hurt?”
“Tina!” yelled Aunt Jenn.
Henrietta sat up and rubbed the great big knob on the back of her head, but she couldn’t feel the pain. She smiled to herself in the dark. Tina would have felt the pain, but Henrietta didn’t. She went to push herself up to stand, but her left wrist gave out, and she fell back over. She used her other hand to push up.
In the light above, she saw a rope lower.
Aunt Jenn’s voice again, “Tina! I’m lowering the rope.”
Henrietta raised her voice just enough so they could hear her. “I see it.”
“Tina! Tina! Tina!” That was Tony. She could hear Jenn trying to calm him down, but he wouldn’t stop yelling.
Typical.
Tied to the rope was a thick branch, it looked like a rope swing.
Above Tony’s hysterical yelling, Aunt Jenn said, “Sit on the branch if you can, and we’ll pull you up!”
Henrietta grabbed the rope with her right hand, tugged it a little to test—it held steady�
�and then adjusted it between her legs and put her weight on it. She tried to hold the rope with both hands, but her left wouldn’t close around the rope. She tucked her elbow over it instead and held on with her right. “Ready.”
The rope ascended in fits and starts, then climbed steadily.
Henrietta rose free of her prison. She’d never be in the wolf’s belly again.
13
Survive
Tina was alive. Really alive. And Tony felt he could fly. He could dance and sing and sail a pirate ship from the seven seas to the ends of the earth!
Tony whooped so loud he felt dizzy and started coughing. Aunt Jenn had tied the rope to the stump. She was grunting as she pulled Tina up.
He held the flashlight, aiming the beam at the base of the hole. He laughed like a maniac, but as Tina emerged from the monster’s mouth, he quieted. Even Jenn made a slight murmur.
Tina didn’t look right.
She was dirty and grimy as would be expected. Blood was in her hair, and she held her left wrist as if it was injured. But, there was something even more, the way her eyes stared blankly ahead.
The set of her mouth.
The lack of tightness in her jaw.
He didn’t know what this meant. “Tina?” he asked, but she didn’t reply.
Auntie Jenn said, “Tony, help me get your sister.” And Tony squatted, helping pull Tina up over onto the grass as Aunt Jenn grabbed her bottom half, swooping it onto solid land.
Tony and Aunt Jenn wrapped their arms around Tina in a big family hug.
Tony said, “You’re safe. You’re safe, Tina.” But she didn’t respond.
Then Aunt Jenn was tugging him off, and gently touching the back of Tina’s head. “Does this hurt, sweetheart?”
Tina didn’t say anything. She stared ahead.
Aunt Jenn looked at Tony, and he looked back at her with the same look of concern.
Then Aunt Jenn ran her hands down Tina’s body, bending her arms at the elbows. Her legs at the knee. Tina didn’t yelp or cry out when Aunt Jenn bent her left wrist, but she flinched, and her hand twisted in an odd way.
“Okay, okay, we need to get your sister some help. We need to get her to the hospital.”
“But I thought you said we could never go to the hospital, Aunt Jenn. Cuz they’ll take us away from you.”
There were sudden tears in her eyes. “Yes, yes, Tony, you’re right.” She sniffled, then wiped the snot on the sleeve of her blouse the way Tony might.
Tony was appalled. He’d never seen Aunt Jenn do that before. Then her eyes lit up. “The priest! We’ll go to the priest. He has medical training and supplies.”
Tony cocked an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Father Wraith. Auntie Jenn told him how the priest had rescued him from the bad men. Tina had told him once that the tall man had put them each in a coffin, and they were moved to the church. She said she didn’t remember the priest either. All she could remember was Aunt Jenn’s pretty face.
Tony remembered Jenn’s face, too, how she looked like an angel, but he didn’t remember the coffin or anything else before Aunt Jenn.
He thought it suspicious that Father Wraith was tall like the tall man. For the longest time, he thought the tall man had morphed into the priest like they did in the fantasy-werewolf TV shows he’d watched at the bad house. But now that he was growing up, he realized that people couldn’t just morph into other people. The Father, other than being tall, didn’t look anything like the tall man. The priest had dark eyes and dark hair, and a sad look about him, even when he smiled. And there was something else, the tall man always looked like he was about to do something bad, where the priest always did nice things, kind things.
He kept his distance on visits, when he brought food and supplies. Sometimes, he’d stay for dinner and even played cards, but he didn’t say much. And he was a lousy card player, though Tony secretly wondered if he’d let them win on purpose. Mainly, he watched Jenn as she hustled about the kitchen doing girl things.
Despite all this, Tony still had bad feelings about the priest sometimes, like he was a bad man, even if he looked like a good man. Auntie Jenn once mentioned that perhaps his distrustfulness of the Father was more about the tall man and not about the priest. Tony thought that might be true. It was confusing.
Everything was confusing these days.
“I’m so sorry, Tina.” Aunt Jenn picked Tina up in her arms, almost fell backward, but Tony supported her back. She whispered her thanks.
They began walking back. Tony trailed behind with his flashlight on Tina’s face, waiting for her to say something.
And his sister finally did speak, and it was one word.
Tony repeated her. “Rietta?”
Aunt Jenn shook her head. “I think she said ‘ready’.”
Tony watched her closely to see if she’d speak again, but Tina only closed her eyes and nuzzled into Jenn’s shoulder.
They rushed back to the house, though Jenn had to stop a few times and catch her breath.
He could tell she was in pain.
When they arrived at the cabin, Auntie Jenn said, “Tony, go pack a few clothes for Tina and yourself. I’m going to put Tina straight into the car.”
He paused. “What car?”
Auntie Jenn paused and looked at him. “The bad man’s car, Tony.”
“We’re going to steal the bad man’s car?”
She nodded. “Yep.”
“Yes!” He pumped his arm and sped into the house and up to the loft, mindful of the blood. He filled a backpack for each of them, one for Tina (he even remembered socks!) and one for him, leaving extra room for something special. Two special somethings.
Auntie Jenn met him inside just as he was tucking the wolf mask into his backpack.
“What’s that for, Tony? You don’t need that.” Auntie Jenn’s voice was stern, which was rare. She turned away to grab a few items of her own. “Go sit with your sister in the car and wait for me.”
He pushed the masked deep inside the backpack and put a few pairs of underwear over the top of it, then snatched up both bags and ran out to the car.
The bad man’s car was clean as a whistle. Tina sprawled across the entire back seat, so Tony put the backpacks on the floor, and then sat up front. He couldn’t remember ever sitting in the front seat of a car, and he was pretty excited about it. Plus, it wasn’t just anyone’s car. It was the bad man’s car. He wished he could put on his mask and pretend to drive it, but obviously Auntie Jenn wasn’t going to let that happen. The car began to warm, and the heat felt good on his skin.
Jenn was a few moments behind him.
They jetted off into the night. Tony kept his thoughts to himself as Jenn drove. Deep in thoughts of her own, Jenn didn’t say anything either.
Our Lady of Victory sat dark, quiet, and still upon an immaculate lawn. Dim lights illuminated the small path and flower border leading back to the rectory behind the church. Jenn pulled into the empty parking lot and haphazardly parked the car closest to the path leading to the rectory.
Jenn’s eyes flicked to the car clock for the fifth time—a little after midnight. Despite the late hour, the kitchen light was on inside the rectory. The Father was awake. When she knocked on his door with Tina wrapped in her arms and Tony by her side, Father Wraith ushered her in.
14
The Lion’s Den
You’ll regret this. The words pounded through Father Simon Wraith’s mind like a hammer on a nail head.
You’ll regret this.
He paced up and down the hallway. The carpet was worn thin from restless nights such as these. He held a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, his worn Bible in the other.
The length and narrowness of the rectory was a comfort to him, and it allowed him to stroll and pace as he tended to do when he had a worrisome problem to bring to the Lord.
He’d been clean for a whole month, a full out thirty days. The longest he’d been able to bring himself to give up the dri
nk in the five years he’d been serving the church in the small town of Wasp, Colorado.
Those thirty days might have lasted, even turn into sixty days, ninety days, a whole year even—but not after what he’d discovered in Our Lady of Victory’s basement this morning.
Oh, no, not a chance.
The cuckoo clock in the kitchen crowed twelve times.
Before the cock crows, you will deny me.
“I have not denied you. I have never denied you.”
But perhaps that was the problem? He took a swig of whiskey, made a cross with the hand still holding the Bible, and continued his pacing.
You’ll regret this.
The words were from a note taped to his confessional door earlier that day. They had found out what he’d done.
They knew.
He thought out loud to himself. “How did they know? They must have been watching me. Someone was watching.”
You’ll regret this
The irony of it was this: it wasn’t the first time he’d seen those words, rather, heard those words.
“Dear God, Dear Lord…” he murmured. The words made him think of things he hadn’t in a long, long time. They brought back memories. The kind of memories that trail after you no matter how far you run, or fast you drink to forget.
You’ll regret this.
The whiskey numbed down his thoughts, but it didn’t numb the memories, and tonight, he had neither the mental capacity nor the emotional energy to shove them away. So he paced and drank, drank and paced, remembering.
He had lost his parents young, and was raised by two elderly women parishioners of Our Lady of Suffering in Vermont. They were devoted to his dear old uncle, the ever loyal and ever gentle priest. Simon studied under his uncle for years until his uncle had contracted colon cancer. Before he passed, the old priest called Simon near and blessed him. He’d said, “Simon… I know you’ve had your struggles. I won’t be here forever. Find your way back to the path of God. If you don’t, I fear you’ll regret this.” The words had sunk like a weight into his soul, he’d wanted to please his uncle, please the Lord. But he also wanted to explore the world, see new places, meet a pretty girl, but he interpreted his uncle’s blessing as finishing seminary, and following in his footsteps. Over time, the words had become a threat instead of blessing.