by Tony C. Skye
Julianna motions with her eyes over to the urn having black sand inside it. Her gaze, then, shifts towards the bottom of the altar where her legs would have been.
Martha exhales a sigh of relief as she puts the equation together. The urn is designed to fit in the gap of the altar. Julianna’s legs would have been wrapped around the outside of it. When Martha first seen the large altar, however, she thought Lilith’s story was true. It sure did appear that way.
“I moistened the white sand where my belly is and then covered it with the black sand.”
Julianna stares for a minute before finishing her thought.
“I had to lay there until it dried.”
Julianna clears her throat as her eyes drifts towards the empty stone tub. She lingers with a solemn stare.
“Are you okay?”
Julianna shakes her head once as a tear finds its way down her left cheek.
“It was full of clean water. I poured holy water from a church into it.”
As Julianna stares blankly with eyes of sadness, Martha finds her own eyes beginning to water.
Julianna turns her gaze towards the three large stones making up the staircase that leads into the tub. A second tear finds its way down her right cheek as she explains their meaning.
“When I reached the top, I said, ‘God in Heaven, I stand before you now covered in the blood of an innocent – one who was yours. I took his life because he loved you...’”
Tears find their home on Julianna’s face as they converge into a steady stream. She vaguely notices her grandmother’s sniffle in the background.
“…I raised my hands above my head as I stepped into the water blessed by his priests. I said, ‘As I wash this filthy blood from my body, so I wash my soul from all that you are, all that you love, and all that you call holy. My being – my entire being, I give freely to the one who will work tirelessly to see your destruction. Gariatu Estidium Merné.’”
Martha’s lips tremble as she quietly translates the family’s mantra, “To the God of Heaven, be damned.”
Never before, have these words felt so final to Martha as they do right now. The room feels dark, cold, and lonely within their wake. Her granddaughter stares with hopeless eyes into the abyss of her memories as she continues her story.
“I lowered my body into the water up to my neck. I took a breath and dipped my head under the water. Right before, I said, ‘I baptize myself in the name of my unborn son’s spiritual father, in the name of my unborn son’s mighty prophet, and in the name of my unborn son. So is my will – the Mother of Darkwaters.’”
Martha watches as Julianna briefly sways with a look of nausea on her face. The girl with red-tinged side-bangs darts towards the empty tub and begins vomiting. Martha gently takes hold of her granddaughter’s hair and pulls it out of the way. This would be a good time to console her granddaughter, but Martha is speechless. She has no idea how to process the information of what she has just heard. Instead, she quietly comforts by softly patting her granddaughter’s upper back.
Whenever Julianna gets control over her dry heaves, she stands up and looks at her teary grams. The teen’s lips begin to quiver as she speaks.
“I always thought the God of Heaven hated me. But afterwards I felt something leave me…”
“Shh…,” Martha coaches as she takes hold of her granddaughter’s hands, “That’s enough for one day.”
Julianna shakes her head in refusal, “Pl-please let me finish this.”
Martha nods once.
“It was His presence, grams. I felt it go. Why would He not show me He was there in the first place? Why would He do that to somebody?”
Martha shakes her head, “I don’t know.”
Julianna lets her grandmother go and wipes the tears from her eyes and cheeks. She staggers in a deep breath before exhaling a loud sigh filled with her frustrations.
Martha remains silent. She patiently gazes upon her granddaughter’s distant eyes – eyes filled with pain and confusion.
Julianna, slowly, turns and looks at the tub filled with the nastiness of her stomach. “I cried myself to sleep. And when I woke up, the water was gone, I was clean, and the door where the red key was…”
Julianna turns her head to the right and looks at her grams, “…it was already open.”
Martha, clueless as to what to say, shifts her blue eyes towards the area underneath the altar. It is void of anything except a lone earring.
Julianna keenly picks up on Martha’s thoughts. She walks over in her numbness and retrieves the black earring. Turning towards Martha with the jewelry, Julianna drops it into her grandmother’s right hand. Martha pretends to not notice the specs of dried blood sporadically covering its surface.
“I don’t need it anymore.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Martha answers with a tone of surety. However, within herself, Martha isn’t sure about anything.
Julianna nods her thanks, but remains distant.
Martha smiles a comfort the best she can under the circumstances. She steps forward and hugs her granddaughter. Julianna’s response is no different than if Martha were hugging a tree. Truth be told, Martha isn’t exactly sure why she is hugging her at all. It must be a nervous thing. Or maybe it is a grandmother thing. Either way, Martha has nothing else right now.
For the past twenty minutes, Martha has been downright horrified at what her ears and eyes have been taking in. Is this what it means to be the Mother of Darkwaters? What if it isn’t?
Martha missed a good portion of her granddaughter’s early years. Sure she kept tabs. But it’s not the same thing as being present. Maybe Julianna has a mental condition that Martha wasn’t aware of – sociopathic in nature. If this is true, then her granddaughter needs a different kind of support with trained psychologists. But if it isn’t true, then Martha must rethink her concepts of what it means to be the Mother. Until today, she realizes she has been guilty of romanticizing the whole idea. If she were doing her job correctly, today’s events would have never come as a shock. Regardless of her granddaughter’s situation, Martha should be better prepared than this.
Martha softly kisses her granddaughter on the head above the girl’s right ear. She takes a step back.
“Why don’t you go lay down. I’ll bring you the food when Frank gets here.”
Julianna nods, but doesn’t move. Whenever her eyes shift towards the entrance, Martha catches on.
“Oh,” Martha verbally acknowledges before walking towards the entrance. She exits the room with Julianna close behind. When she turns around, Julianna is already pressing a stone positioned at the top left corner of the entrance. The stone’s engraving has an upside down version of the markings found upon the Lilith diamond. Sounds of grinding stone begin filling the room. Martha decides to allow Julianna some space. The older woman turns her attention towards the glass room where she needs to soak the earring. She begins walking.
* * *
After Martha finishes dropping the earring into a solution of jewelry cleaner, it isn’t long before the cleaners show up. About five minutes later, Frank walks in. She asks him to watch over the workers while she runs the food downstairs to Julianna. He graciously agrees and gives her a professional nod.
As loving as he is, Frank doesn’t care to show a lot of affection in front of strangers – even if they are Network. It’s not that he won’t do it. He just chooses not to until he knows the faces within the room. Martha has always chalked it off as a guy thing. She gives him a knowing grin and heads downstairs.
“Julia?”
Martha briefly scans the empty bedroom when she reaches the bottom of the staircase. She turns left and makes her way down the hallway leading into the kitchen. When she arrives, the kitchen is empty. Martha places the take-out containers of breakfast upon the kitchen table. She leaves the room and heads back towards her granddaughter’s bedroom.
With Julianna still not present, Martha makes a left and heads down the adjacent hallway
leading towards the lavatory. As she passes by the shower area, she notices her granddaughter lying in the tub.
“Julia?”
The teen remains silent.
“Didn’t you just take a shower, dear?”, Martha questions while entering the room. She sees something odd as she approaches the tub filled with bubble bath. Her mind races to make sense of the abnormal coloring. It is red – blood red.
“Oh,” Martha gasps.
“Fraaaaaaaank!”, Martha screams, “Frank heeelp! Fraaaaaaaank!”
Martha vaguely hears her husband’s voice acknowledge her cry for help. But it’s enough for her to turn all of her attention onto her granddaughter. She reaches into the tub and pulls out the teen’s arms. Both wrists have been slit crosswise. The cuts run from lower-forearm to upper-palm.
“Julia,” Martha panics, “Can you hear me?”
The teen lets out a moaning sigh.
By the look of the blood releasing itself from Julianna’s body within every heartbeat, Martha concludes this incident has just occurred within the past couple of minutes. She releases her granddaughter’s arms and rushes to grab a towel. Frank begins hollering for directions.
“Washroom!”, Martha yells back.
Frank’s loud steps down the hallway are a minor comfort as she quickly reaches for the first towel in sight.
With his long stride, Frank quickly closes the distance to the bathroom and enters. Martha’s back is to him. He glances to the tub where red bubbles decorate the water.
“What happened?”
“Here,” Martha turns around and throws him the towel, “She cut her wrists.”
Without missing a beat, Frank reaches into his back right jeans pocket and retrieves a pocket knife. He flips it open and uses it to start a small tear in the thick fabric. Mouthing the knife between his lips, Frank rips a strip from the towel. With one motion, the man tosses the strip to Martha, grabs the knife from his lips, and makes another tear.
Martha immediately takes hold of her granddaughter’s right arm when she receives the first strip.
“Stop,” Julianna whines with a faint voice. Although her strength is quickly leaving her, she finds enough of it to pull her arm away from her grandmother. She exhales a sigh of exhaustion as she relaxes her arm back underneath the water’s surface. Martha reaches over and hits the button that releases the tub’s water.
“Frank,” Martha demands her husband’s help as she grabs her granddaughter’s right arm again. This time, Martha uses both of her hands to grip with. The water level drops quickly as the dual-drain system does its part to help the woman with her struggle.
Frank rounds the right side of his wife. He takes the second strip he tore from the towel and makes quick work of cinching Julianna’s right wrist. Without saying a word, Martha releases her granddaughter’s arm into the nearly empty tub of water. The left side of Julianna’s body, however, is taking the blunt of her untreated wound. The girl looks like she is playing a part in some B-rated horror flick.
After she hands Frank the first strip, Martha snatches up Julianna’s left arm with both hands. Frank steps into the tub for better positioning. He ties off the girl’s wrist before stepping back out again.
“We need to get her out of there,” Frank informs with a much calmer tone.
Martha nods, stands upright, and takes a few steps backwards. Frank kneels down by the tub and scoops his granddaughter into his long arms. At seventeen, Julianna weighs quite a bit. The man is secretly thankful she isn’t tall like he is. He stands up with Julianna while using his legs more than his back. He knows all too well that he isn’t a spring chicken anymore.
Frank turns and looks at his wife. With her immediate part done, she looks a little lost. Her worrisome eyes are gut-wrenching to behold. He nods his head towards the bathroom’s entrance.
“Call the hospital,” Frank instructs, “Tell them we’re on our way.”
* * *
Chapter 11
Lesson for Today
“She’s going to live,” a young doctor informs, “There will definitely be some scarring on her arms. But with the sharpness of the object she used, they shouldn’t be quite as bad as I’ve seen before. I will say that she had no intentions of surviving this. Her wounds are deep and deliberate. It’s a good thing you got to her when you did. We’ve repaired the damage to her arteries, but she might experience periods of tingling for a while. If she complains of her hands falling to sleep too much, you will need to bring her in. In that case, we would have to go back in, but I don’t think it will be necessary.”
The doctor pauses while he looks at Martha. As with any person found in this situation, the woman seems lost.
“I have to ask,” the doctor continues, “Do you know what she used? I didn’t see any signs of rust. But if I don’t have anything else to measure it by, she will need a tetanus shot. Do you remember the last time she had her tetanus?”
Martha shakes her head while staring through the glass into her granddaughter’s private room.
“Okay,” the doctor relays his understanding, “If you need anything, you know how to reach me. I’ll remain here at the hospital until she wakes up.”
Martha stares without a word. Frank steps up and extends his right hand.
“Thank you, son,” Frank speaks for the both of them.
The doctor politely shakes Frank’s hand with a nod. He turns and begins walking towards the nurse’s station positioned southeast cater-corner to his patient’s room. Frank notices two female nurses working the station. They have been eager to help since Julianna’s arrival. He can hardly imagine receiving any better treatment for his granddaughter; especially, under the circumstances.
Frank walks over to the left side of his wife and uses his right arm to hold her around the waistline. He softly kisses the top of her head while looking in on his granddaughter through the large observation window.
“She’s going to be fine,” Frank whispers.
Martha’s stare rips itself away from the blood bag attempting to restore her granddaughter’s life essence. She spins leftward out of her husband’s hold and extends her right arm towards the looking glass.
“She is not fine!”, Martha yells.
Frank notices the two nurses and young doctor stopping their activities with the sudden interruption. Frank remains calm. His brown eyes remain gentle with their intentions. Martha pauses as her husband absorbs her anger with all of the love they have spent their lives building together. Her arm slowly lowers as her lips quiver with insecurity. Frank remains silent within his patience.
“She wants to die,” Martha’s weaker voice cracks within her pain. She allows the tears of her fear to run freely down her cheeks.
Frank holds out welcoming arms. Martha steps forward and places her left cheek on his chest. She grips his sides while his arms secure his embrace around her. Martha looks at the wrappings around her granddaughter’s forearms. A few seconds later, she turns her face and buries it into his chest. Martha releases some of her pain.
Frank welcomes his wife’s tears into his shirt. He moves his right hand and cups the back of her head as it moves with each violent sob. He glances over to the nurse’s station. The idle employees quickly readjust their schedule and begin working again. Looking into Julianna’s room, he watches the heart monitor track her blood pressure and heart rate. She is heavily sedated. When she wakes up, however, she will find that her arms and legs have been secured to the bed with binding straps.
Martha feels Frank lower his hand down to her upper back as she pulls away from his soaked shirt. She turns her head to the right and peers through the glass.
“What are we doing?”, Martha questions with a hoarse throat, “This isn’t worth it. It’s not worth her life.”
Martha turns her head and looks up into Frank’s eyes.
“I am selfish, Frank. I can’t give her up. I won’t do it.”
“You are her grandmother. That is our granddaughter lying in th
at room. There is nothing selfish about it.”
“D-damn you Frank,” Martha answers his lack of condemnation with trembling lips. New tears find their way out of her blue eyes as she buries her face into his chest once more.
Frank re-cups Martha’s head with his large palm. He knows she was begging him for a lie. But deep down she expects only truth – something that Frank has always given her. And he will do so until his final breath of life.
When Martha, finally, regains her composure, Frank informs her that he is going to have a look around. Martha gives him a knowing glance with a halfhearted smile. She knows asking Frank to not make a security sweep is a pointless endeavor. When it comes down to it, Frank trusts no one with his family, but himself. Not even the Network.
* * *
“Suicide?”, a smoky voice questions.
“Shut up,” Julianna snaps back angrily. “You’re a perverted liar and I want nothing to do with you.”
Julianna turns her left arm over and watches the wound close itself.
“Damn it, grams,” Julianna curses.
“Now we are able to come here without drinking anything?”, Lilith asks her visitor another question.
Julianna looks up with a daring glare.
Lilith’s head retreats with amusement. In no way could this girl match her in combat. Any acceptance to this non-verbal challenge would be pathetic on her part. And she is not about to lower herself to some mentally unstable teenager with hormone issues.
Lilith, confidently, turns her back on Julianna. She pauses a moment to listen for approaching footsteps within the white sand. No sound comes. Lilith grins.