This must be part of the punishment for being late to work. If I could just make it through the rest of the day in this box, the evening public whippings for tardiness would be nothing in comparison. In this crouched position the cuts on my chest stung something awful.
Hours later, I was dehydrated and felt very dizzy. An odd chill had overtaken my body even though it was extremely hot inside the box. But my only solace in the darkness was that I could hear a soft shimmer of song deep within my mind like a velvety echo in the distance. It was as if someone was lulling my senses. The sounds lifted me up to a higher realm beyond the discomforts of the physical. I felt as if I was losing touch with reality.
Shortly thereafter, from inside the box, I began to hear the distant sounds of people gathering in the clearing in anticipation of my public whippings. I felt sorry for my mother, knowing she must have been worried to death about me.
I heard someone approaching the box. There were a few knocks on the side wall. I felt the vibrations as I leaned against it in my delirium.
“Wake up, Peach Cake,” Wardo said gruffly. “Time for the gathering.”
The guard unlocked the box and dragged me out by my bare leg as he tangled his hands in my long black hair. “Stand up!” he demanded in his low, guttural voice.
I flinched at his roughness, but submissively wobbled to an awkward stance. He dragged me out of the cabin door and into the spectacle area of the woods in the space between everyone’s cabins where community meetings were held and public punishments were facilitated.
With the entire community standing before us, he pulled me atop the platform. In the sea of faces, I gradually began to recognize people I knew. I saw Lola, Franz, and Tomaru from school and some of my fellow workers. The cook and his wife with their young children whispered to each other. I noticed Jezebel Bradeere glaring at me.
Then I saw my mother’s face turn pale. I wanted to reach out and comfort her, but the guard held my wrists tightly together.
In my dizziness, I almost forgot that I was entirely naked except for my hair that cloaked my privates as well as possible. But, when the realization that I was fully undressed hit me, my face reddened from humiliation. This isn’t so bad, I reasoned with myself. At least you weren’t caught crossing the boundary line. The punishment for running off during my chores was only whippings. Whippings are painful and cause scars, but I can live through that.
Mazen Tratzel stepped upon the platform and stood beside the guard that held me. He began in his usual toned speech, “Today we are gathered to witness the punishment of one, Cordellia Dressemme, who was caught crossing the boundary line…”
The crowd gasped. My mother screamed. I nearly fainted at his accusation. How did he know I crossed the boundary line? Nobody saw me except for Jezebel Bradeere. She must have reported me.
He continued, “This is the most severe crime. It is a crime of the strictest punishment.” He looked around at the crowd, their eyes widened. “Cordellia Dressemme is sentenced to life imprisonment in our newly restored dungeon. There will be no further tolerance for this crime. She jeopardized the safety of us all. Let her be the example of what happens to the serious offender.”
At that, in my dreadful haze of disbelief, Wardo pulled me down the platform steps. My heart broke when my mother tried to push the guard away from me and he threw her to the ground.
“My baby, my baby,” she screamed. “Don’t take my girl.” She was crying and pleading, “Don’t take her. Don’t take her. Please.” Then she grabbed onto the guard’s leg.
The guard kicked her off. I wanted to kill him, but he held me tightly by the wrists. Her womanly face was as white as snow. I had never seen my mother so addled.
Everyone else stood oddly still looking at me blankly. Some bodies quivered slightly in bewilderment, hiding their emotions out of fear of punishment.
I struggled to get away. I felt I had nothing to lose. But, the guard smacked me in the face and forced me along.
I surrendered, realizing I could not get away as he pulled me through the trees, over thorns and thistles, past a stream, and finally to a gothic stone building on an edge of the forest that I had never seen.
I was shocked and couldn’t think straight, but I did notice the eerie looking building he was taking me to. It was narrow and tall with stone pillars at the entrance.
Once inside the grey walls, I was given a cup of water to drink and a brown robe to dress in. In silence, Wardo led me down a long, dim stone stairway to the dungeon area.
My heart was pounding so fast. I felt as if I could hardly breathe—I was so frightened. At the end of a short hall, he unlocked a heavy door and pushed me inside a small stone room.
“You’re a stupid girl,” Wardo said in his gruff voice. “You’re almost pretty except for that hunch on your back and you threw your life away.”
“Please help me,” I gasped.
“Stupid child.” He kicked me hard in the stomach. I keeled over just barely holding my balance.
Without saying another word, he picked up a long whip leaning against one of the grey walls. And in a sort of sudden rage, he threw me to the ground and began whipping my back.
I was shocked at the intensity of pain I felt. It was an excruciating sting that cut through my skin and made me fear for my life. I clenched my teeth, trying not to scream. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.
Then as quickly as it occurred, he locked me in the dim, cold room and I was alone. My eyes glazed over. I could hardly believe my devastating turn of fate.
Barely able to think straight, I rolled onto my side in utter pain and opened my eyes. The room was dim, grey and mostly empty except for a sink, bathtub, and toilet. The floor and walls were made of stone. The ceiling reached high, high up with a small window at the very top.
My head reeled with turbulent thoughts as I realized this was where I was to spend the rest of my life. The idea was insane, yet true.
I must have dozed off because when I awoke, the darkness of night had descended upon the cell. I heard someone’s footsteps moving toward my room and then a latch lifted and a key turned at the bottom of the door. A stream of light shined through the bottom edge of the door as a small slider lifted. Then a tray of food slid through. The slider quickly closed and the latch shut. The light faded away into blackness.
The food was horrible. I couldn’t see what I was eating, but it tasted like stale bread and smashed beans. I bit into something crunchy and bitter and realized I was eating an insect, probably a cockroach. I spit it out, gagging and wrenching.
I crawled in the darkness, feeling my way to the sink. It was a primitive sort of sink compared to the computerized sinks I was accustomed to in Los Angeles before we were forced into hiding. I had to turn the handle myself which I knew how to do because we had a sink like this in our cabin in the woods.
My back stung and ached something awful from the whippings, but I managed to tilt my head to the side and let the flow of water rush through my mouth, rinsing it clean. I splashed some on my face and cut chest, trying to rinse the burning wounds.
Then I felt around in a cabinet beneath the sink. I found a small towel, so I wiped myself off. There was also a blanket in there. I laid it on the floor and positioned myself upon it on my side. To my relief, my mind became hazy in exhaustion as I drifted off into dream world, a place I longed to stay.
I was so exhausted from everything that had occurred and weak from my injuries that I slept through the next couple of days only waking to use the toilet and to eat meals. But, on the second night in my dreamy haze, I was startled out of my sleep by the sound of a piercing scream.
12
The scream sounded like a woman’s voice. But, as the high pitch waned, other noises came. I heard a lion roar! How could that be? There was pacing like the steps of an animal. Then the pacing changed to the pitter patter steps of a horse. And then a loud “Nay” sounded… and snorting that I knew most definitely was a horse. Was there
a woman, a lion, and a horse in the cell beside me?
The rest of the night I sat up leaning against the stone wall between us listening to the strange noises, the faint songs still luring me to the lake sounding in my weary head like background music to a circus of sounds behind the wall.
The woman began to talk incessantly in another language. Nothing she said made any sense to me, but the imagery lit my mind and directed my thoughts away from the stinging, burning pain that nearly overwhelmed my body.
As the sun began to rise and the room began to turn from black to gray, I closed my eyes and fell asleep with my cheek against the wall. My dreams were surreal, entirely vivid and all about Shaul Hainsworth. He was beautiful with disheveled black hair and entirely surrounded in light. He caressed my cheek and my mind filled with love and peace.
When I awoke to the prettiest little song in my mind, the sun was bright overhead. I guessed it was around noon time. My back itched like crazy, but I knew that was a positive sign. It meant my wounds were healing.
The latch lifted, the key turned, the slider raised, and a hand reached in taking my dirty plate from the night before and exchanged it with another plate of food.
At least now I could see what I was eating. There was a cooked field onion, more dried bread, a cup of red wine, and smoked goldfish. Not as bad as I would have expected. I didn’t see any insects on the plate, so I decided to eat the meal. The food was cold and stale tasting, but edible at least.
I pushed the plate back next to the little sliding door for the hand that would later retrieve it, but I decided to keep the wine cup for myself to use at the sink in case I got thirsty later.
I decided to explore the cabinet below the sink. There was only a toothbrush and a hairbrush. I was grateful for the hairbrush because if I didn’t have that my long hair would turn to a matted mess.
I started to wonder, how in the world I would entertain myself for the rest of my life with so little supplies. Then I thought of my mother and how devastated she must be over my imprisonment. My mind spun and my heart ached. I curled up into a ball on the floor with the blanket over my face and tried not to think.
That night when it was black in the cell, the latch lifted, the key turned, the slider raised, and the hand retrieved the dirty plate. Moments later the cell door unlocked and opened. A very tall, thick boned, woman with curly gray hair, holding a lantern stepped inside. She had a crazed look in her eyes.
“Stealing a cup is against the law,” the woman scolded in a crackly voice. She sat the lantern down and stepped closer to me as I sat up from my resting position on the floor.
She pulled a long baton from her belt and flicked a switch. An intense stream of electricity streamed forth. I tried to move away, shocked at what was about to happen, but the woman pointed the baton at my stomach. My mind filled with horror. Terrifying volts of electricity shot through my body.
I had never felt such pain. It was so much worse than the whippings. I screamed uncontrollably. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” I gagged on my pleas.
My body flopped around. My limbs smacked against the stone floor. Such pain! Bile came out of my mouth. I felt like I was chocking on my own tongue.
“Bad girl,” the horrible woman said as she tortured me.
But, after a few seconds or so, she stopped, took the cup from the sink, and walked out of my cell.
I heard loud yelling and banging sounds coming from the other side of the wall, but I passed out on the floor before I could figure out what was happening.
When I awoke the next day, the carvings on my upper chest were filled with puss. I had a terrible fever and my body was sweaty with chills all over. I couldn’t even move; I felt too weak.
13
For over a month, I was sick with fever. My mind was filled with wicked rage toward Jezebel. I became obsessed with taking revenge upon her. She must have turned me into the authorities. I was sure I was going to die from this infection, but if I survived, I vowed to take my revenge on her. I would ruin her life, somehow, some way.
Because I was afraid the days would begin to blend together, I was very careful to count each day even though I was deathly ill. I marked in my mind the exact calendar dates. Although I existed in a sea of feverous hallucinations, counting gave me an inkling of sanity, grounding me in some sort of logical reality. But, the daily monotony and pain became stifling.
September 4th. The music surrounded me like a sensual whirlpool beckoning me to its center, drawing me down. In the height of my fever, I found myself calling out to Shaul, “Save me, Shaul. Save me.” I cried and laughed like a girl possessed. And then I continued, “Pull me out of this hell of vile thoughts. My Shaul, my eternal love.” I went on and on like this for days, scratching at the wall.
September 11th. I tossed and turned upon the blanket on the cold, hard floor, bruising my burning body. “Oh, lake, oh, lake—I would enter thee, but woe am I, a girl possessed.” My body shivered with desire. A cockroach ran up my leg.
September 16th. “Save me Shaul. Take me down into the waters. Swim with me, a girl possessed.” I stared up at the skylight and moaned in despair. The clouds floated over the sun. Rain poured forth, pattering against the glass oh, so way up high. If only I could fly away. “I hate you, Jezebel.”
But, then, on September 18th, after a long terrifying night of desirous nightmares, I awoke feeling markedly different. My infection had cleared in my sleep and I was healed.
The music in my mind sounded like heavenly angels. I got up off of the stone floor, ran the water in the bathtub, stripped out of my cell robe and climbed in.
The bath was splendorous and icy cold. I didn’t mind that there was no heat. Oddly, I had always been immune to harsh water temperatures. I had no explanation for it, but I had forever been that way.
I slid under the surface, my long black hair spreading out like wings, and I held my breath for a very long time. My mind danced in the rhythm of the slight waves I made with my arms. The symphony in my mind was even clearer beneath the surface. It was a delightful pleasure unbounded.
After my long bath, I brushed my hair, unwinding the tangles of neglect accrued during my illness, and wrapped the long strands over and around my skinny boyish body.
I washed my robe and the grey towel I had used as a blanket during my fever in the tub and then laid them over the side to dry. I drained the basin and then refilled it because I liked having a sea of water, as small as it was, in my room. I brushed my teeth carefully, one at a time. And then, with nothing to do, I spent the rest of the morning brushing and styling my long dark locks into many little braids and twisted curls.
Eventually, I grew bored with my hair, so I began to sing incorporating the symphony in my mind with the mixed trills, squeals, and rapid clicks of my voice. I created alluring songs of adventure and trickery. It was fun and entertaining.
Then, to my amazement, another voice entered my mind joining in the song. It was a soft and velvety voice with low guttural groans that were sensual to the ears. It was an enchanting surprise that caressed my thoughts in the most unexpected, delightful way.
We sang mythological charms of creatures of water, air, fire, and earth. On the low notes, we dove deep into the depths of the lake and into the soul of the earth. On the high notes, we soared up into heavenly spheres and straight into the blue casts of fire.
In our ditties, we led each other into submerged worlds, through paradises of unfathomable realms, into the purification of hot repentance, and beyond the depths of renewal and change. Our songs created blissful unity and though we were locked in body, we were free in mind.
I found myself dancing around the room and tapping little renditions on the walls with the end of my brush as we sang. After a bit, I began to notice the vibrations coming back to me in sound waves like physical pulses in the air.
Then I realized the voice joining in our song was the body on the other side of the wall. My dungeon mate was also tapping her hairbrush to our tunes and ca
using quite a physical stir on her side of the wall. I was thrilled to have a companion to interact with. We sang in utter bliss for the rest of the day.
But, then, night came…
Now in the darkness of my cell, I couldn’t stop a new flood of emotions. I missed my mother. My mind soared into self-defeating rages and uncontrollable fits of crying. I had always been a fairly quiet, introverted person, so these emotional outbursts were new to me. But, the gates of emotion had opened and I didn’t know how to shut them.
My cries seemed to cause an odd clamor on the other side of the wall. It sounded like my dungeon companion was pacing her cell. And then there was that lion roaring. An eagle cawing. And a goat naying. As my wailing escalated, to my utter shock, the ground began to shake beneath my feet like an earthquake.
I was so frightened that I climbed back into the bathtub, the only place I felt safe, and I held my head under the water until I passed out. I don’t know how I didn’t die of drowning, but somehow when I awoke—a sea of music sounding in my head—I was perfectly fine.
After days of doing nothing, not even taking baths, I woke up when the sun was directly above the high, high skylight. Lunch slid through the slider. It was stale as usual, but had enough nutrients to sustain me.
I liked Wednesday lunches the best—chopped turtle with young bamboo shoots, and dried turnip salad. Some days the food was so gross I couldn’t even eat it. Rabbit guts on leaves were the worst. The chef always left the rabbit head on my plate which made me gag and sometimes vomit.
The rest of the day I didn’t feel like taking a bath, styling my hair, or singing, so I had nothing to do. I was in a melancholy mood and I couldn’t get myself motivated. After a short while, while lying on the blanket upon the stone floor, I started to go crazy with boredom and self-pity.
As usual, I wanted to take revenge on the community leaders. I obsessively tried to figure out if Jezebel had turned me into the authorities. She must have.
Girl Possessed (Book 1 of The Girl Trilogy) Page 6