Silly Girl

by Brandon Berntson

  Am I really this stupid?—she thought. Another chance? Staying again? It will be all right? Everything? He will change? Didn’t he say he would change? Things would be different from here on out.

  He’d said those things, and she—the idiot—had believed him.

  It had to do with the soap. Amanda was so confused. This was her apartment, but Shelby treated it like his own. If she didn’t wash the dishes, he got mad. If she used all the hot water, he got mad. If she left her clothes on top of the dryer, he got mad. Who did he think he was?

  That coffee you’re drinking, buster! Know where that comes from? Whose car do you drive? Answer me that, sport. Who takes care of your mail?

  Something more powerful than Amanda Dear, at least in life. That’s what Shelby was telling her.

  Soap? Was that a joke?

  She’d left the soap in the tub without draining the water. The soap was a mess of cloudy, pink particles adhering to the sides of the tub. It was an entire bar of soap, Shelby screamed!

  He was explaining this to her, but she couldn’t hear him. Lightening bolts of pain exploded through her brain instead.

  The soap…the soap he did not buy was the reason her head wailed.

  She was going to learn, Shelby was saying. Was she trying to make life difficult? She did not understand the foundation of their relationship. He was explaining this now, the funds, the money they had to save…

  “You ought to be thankful I’m just ramming your head through the wall!” Shelby shouted.

  Before the dark, Amanda had just enough to think, Thanks, Shel. You’re a sport!

  *

  Again, through eons of space, she flew. She had no conception she had a lower body. Why would she if she could fly? To Amanda Dear, it seemed she was made of a single face, hair like silver trailing behind her, and an upper body.

  For the moment, the hell and torture of her life’s memories fled into the dark. Even in death, she tried to catch her breath.

  Of course, back to flying! She was dead!

  Clouds rushed by. She gulped cold air. Limitless sky surrounded her, clouds, a view of mountain peaks. Apparently, the world above Earth and under space, was a part of death, too.

  Amanda smiled. She might not get the chance to see these sights again.

  Not with the hells I’ve been facing.

  She descended through the clouds. Light mist touched her face.

  Ah! The sight did not surprise her!

  Yes, you know what you are. Wesley called you that a thousand times.

  An expanse of ocean beside a rocky bluff stretched below, an awesome castle made of gray stone. Mountain peaks loomed to the north. The sun was going down.

  Wesley stood on one of the battlements. He wore a long black cape and chain mail. The hilt of a broadsword was visible behind his head. He waved at her from one of the battlements. Was he waiting for her, his bride, his queen of castles across the sky?

  Amanda tried to wave, but something held her up. That’s right. She was only a face zooming across the cosmos. Wesley laughed at her, as if sensing her thoughts. Did he know something she did not?

  Just as quickly, Wesley and the castle slipped away. Death swept her into the black of cold stars again.

  Earth never was! Don’t you see? Damnit, why can’t I stay here?

  Amanda tried willing herself back into the clouds, to Wesley, but she disappeared, rocketing through space and colder air.

  A demon chuckled behind her as if replying to her demand.

  *

  Another memory from the life she’d lived played before her:

  She was standing in a lighted hallway, and open door several feet to her right. The lights were off in the room.

  That was her room, she realized. She was in a hospital.

  Amanda Dear closed her eyes. It was her spirit in the hall looking at the door of the room she was in.

  When she opened her eyes, she was in the room, lying in bed. Shelby had mangled her to the brink of death. She was a pulpy, swollen mess, her face damaged beyond repair. She felt like rotten fruit.

  What was that smell? Was that her? How embarrassing! Didn’t they clean her up? What were the nurses for?

  “Good of you to come back.”

  A man in his mid-forties, wearing tortoise-shell glasses, sat on the edge of the bed. His left arm stretched across her body. He was tall and rangy, reminding Amanda of a large, gangly bug.

  Yes, the hospital! She hurt all over! She remembered now…

  “It’s horrible, what he did,” Jon the Doctor said. “Lovely young thing like yourself. Perhaps next time you’ll choose better lovers.”

  Was he lifting the gown off her legs? Was this his way of inspecting the damage? And in the dark, no less!

  Despite her bumps and bruises, the damage to her face, she was still a beauty, he was telling her.

  “Your face will heal soon enough,” Jon said. “That doesn’t worry me.”

  If this was death, it was cruel and unmerciful to have to relive it. Why didn’t God show His putrid face? She had a million questions to ask! And where in the hell was Wesley?

  Amanda tried sitting up. To her horror, she realized her hands were tied to the bed rail.

  “You were hysterical when they brought you in,” Jon told her, explaining the constraints.

  Hysterical, huh? she thought. That’s good. Hysterical. I like that. You can still find time to be hysterical when you get your head bashed in. I didn’t know that.

  The privilege of being a doctor! Why he signed his name on the dotted line! Violating patients came with the job, and a paycheck to boot!

  Her legs were free, though. Maybe Jon had done the honors. She might be able to deliver a swift kick to his ribs if she tried hard enough...

  Jon’s hands moved over her thighs, between her legs. He cupped her breast…

  “Yes, it is too bad about the face, though,” Jon said.

  Amanda positioned herself onto her hip, reeling back her leg. With all her strength, she brought it forward, and her knee connected with Jon’s kidneys. He made an, “Uumph!” sound, and fell on the floor, right on his ass.

  More humiliated than pained, he stood up, brushing off his long white coat.

  “You’re obstinate, like a horse,” he said, cheeks flushing in the gloom. “That’s okay. I like that.” Jon rubbed his back and winced in pain. He looked down at her, smiled, and rubbed his chest with perfect arrogance. He raised his hand and backhanded her.

  Sparks of pain showered in Amanda’s brain.

  And I thought I’d missed the Fourth of July, she thought.

  Her skull was an intense white flare. Jon the Doctor hit her again.

  Yes, always slipping away. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. No wonder this crack-pot reality of death is the way it is!

  How she was able to think these thoughts, she didn’t know.

  She was thankful to lose herself in the darkness when it came. Unconsciousness could, at times, be perfect bliss.

  *

  When she came to, she was not back in the stars of death. She was still in the hospital, reliving the horror of that day. She thought she was going to throw up. Carousels of light and pain circled through her head.

  Jon the Violating Love-Doctor was astride her. He was having his way…

  His pants were below his ankles, repeatedly thrusting into her with a single-minded purpose, his belt buckle clanking loudly against the bedpost at Amanda’s feet. Apparently, Jon wasn’t in it to help the sick and afflicted.

  Amanda tried to scream. Opening her mouth, however, was painful. She tried to buck him off, but she was too weak, and Jon was far too heavy.

  “How do you like that?” he panted, between breaths. “Shows you who’s boss? There’s plenty more where that came from, you know? Hope you’re ready.”

  Please! If there was a God, let her go abhorrently into the dark. No wonder He was invisible, the spineless prick! Someone had a lot of explaining to do!

&nb
sp; Jon tensed with orgasm. He stiffened, panted heavily, and slowed down.

  Amanda tried willing her own demise. If she couldn’t throw up, surely she could will herself to die.

  Jon climbed off and buckled his pants, as if violating patients were something he did everyday.

  Probably right after he kisses the wife and kids goodbye, Amanda thought.

  Despite the horror, she’d never seen a man look as clownish as Jon did then.

  Amanda (shocking even to her) found the courage to laugh. She laughed uproariously! She didn’t know how that was possible, but it was true. Yes, it hurt; the laughter rocked painfully through her. But once she started, she couldn’t stop. She was maniacal with laughter! For some unexplainable reason, Amanda Dear could not stop laughing!

  A hateful looked crossed Jon’s face. It was hard to tell in the dark, but his cheeks seemed red with anger.

  “What the hell’s so funny?” he said.

  “You…” Amanda tried to say, but words were difficult. Pain flared through her face still from what Shelby had done, but she forced herself to go on. She had a statement to make here. Her death would be worth it:

  “You’re the smallest I’ve ever had. I didn’t even feel you!”

  A fit of giggles tortured Amanda Dear.

  Jon was on her in seconds flat. Now, the Fourth of July was everywhere! Lightening blasts of pain rocked her skull. An angry siren shrilled between her ears. Warm blood spilled down her face. She was going numb…

  Amanda Dear wanted to make sure Jon never forgot her…

  Despite the damage, she smiled through her swollen, purple face.

  Don’t worry, said Perennial Darkness. I’m here for you. I’ve been waiting…

  As she went down—taking the hand of Darkness, her friend—the last thing she heard was Jon’s incessant whining:

  “Why? Why are you laughing at me?”

  *

  Eventually, Jon the Doctor died in prison from a violent rape. Where his soul was now was anyone’s guess.

  Behind her, lost again in the space of death, Amanda soared.

  Flying, she thought. You get to fly in death. Is this how it’s going to be forever?

  She brimmed with feeling. Emotions assaulted her for reason she couldn’t comprehend. They came at her one by one: sadness, despair, and hatred. As if she hadn’t been through enough! Emotion pummeled her from all sides. Emotion came to her in the form of vision. It gained physicality:

  The abhorrence she felt living with her overwrought mother came in the form of discharge. Shit crawled with flies. Scorpions moved over mounds of decaying flesh. Poison manipulated the feelings she had for her mother. In death, it came to life and chased her through the stars.

  “Amanda this, and Amanda that,” he mother always said. She was a wiry woman with heavy black circles under her eyes, a drug-addict. They were standing in the living room when Amanda asked her if she’d drive her and Michael to the park. Amanda had been ten at the time. “Precious little Amanda dear has to have everyone stop what they’re doing, so she can have her fun! Let me just put my fucking life on hold! Isn’t that what life is like for you, Amanda, darling? Sulk and sulk ’til she’s blue in her room…The whole family has to beg and plead, has to do a fire-dance in order to fulfill Amanda’s obligation to her busy lifestyle! God forbid we put a kink in her plans!”

  It went on and on. Her mother never let up:

  “I’m sure Amanda had something to do with it, the way she keeps to herself! Just look at her?”

  “If we didn’t have this extra mouth to feed! Michael doesn’t eat as much as you. Goddamn garbage disposal, is what you are. Amazing we have anything to eat at all.”

  “It’s Amanda’s fault you didn’t get the job, Lou.” Lou was her uncle. “See, she didn’t want you to have it in the first place. Look at her!”

  “Your daddy would’ve stayed with me—he would’ve stayed—except for you, Amanda, the Great. Have to take care of you all the time, right? Like we’re not starving and on the verge of poverty already! But noooo, you want to get your ears pierced! You want to get a library card, so you can spend all you time reading stupid books when you should be doing your homework! Do you know how many people are looking for single mothers? None! That’s how many! Remember that when you’re old enough to get a job!”

  How could Amanda forget? Her existence was to torment, trouble, and build chaos, so mother could unnecessarily mourn her own pity. Didn’t people see how much Amanda’s mother suffered?

  “Screw you, mummy,” Amanda said, raising her middle finger with bold, confident rigidity.

  Amanda had a fetish for British comedy. She feigned the accent often. Back in death, she was doing so now:

  “See my finger, mummy? See how tall and bright? You and Jon, the Bloody Bastard Doctor can go fuck yourselves! That’s right! Have a lovely day! It is bright and warm out! Perhaps you should interest Jon in a walk round the park, love?”

  Amanda Dear had been quick to leave home. Unfortunately, she was quick to stumble upon Manny, Shelby, and Jon, the Violating Love-Doctor.

  Mercy? What was that earlier about an Invisible God? Of course, ladies and gentleman, there’s always more!

  Once, again the memory washed away.

  Through a cool wind—an infinite limbo of time, stars, and wonder—Amanda Dear sailed like a galactic ship—a single face maneuvering through the galaxies of a continually unfolding universe. She was a veteran for a day. If she had to endure hell and murder, she’d create them herself. If pain tarnished her fortune, she had no one to blame but the girl who’d run away years ago.

  Contentment to her freedom was another emotion. It came in the form of majestic ships sailing across sun-drenched blue waters.

  Space, life, time, longing, and emotion, continued to whiz past her pale, small ears. She piloted herself through a thousands stars of the life hereafter.

  Amanda Dear, heralded, she thought, you are pure woman!

  The power of sex moved through her, the purring engines of a cat. She was silk, softened, liquid-like femininity in the way she waltzed from room to room. She turned heads. People gawked at Amanda’s beauty. She was China pure, sand like silver, touchable throat, arms, and back. She was slow honey moving to bold inspiration, the power to be fearless. Amanda Dear was magma, leaving molten paths of jealousy behind every door.

  “Second deaths don’t scare me! I’ve asked murderers to lead me to dance! I don’t trust anyone else!”

  It came down to strength, nothing more. Amanda Dear was getting a handle on this life after death thing. She was starting to enjoy it!

  Even the grandest of them all—the One, the Almighty—must be dethroned at some time by some apostle! Who said a woman couldn’t do it?

  Amanda knew her capabilities. Strength of spirit and female vitality were her most powerful allies.

  She smiled in the cool air of space. White, blonde hair trailed behind her, ribbons of silver, sparkling nebulous lights.

  How much was she capable of creating or destroying, she wondered?

  *

  Instead of stars, she moved through another plane of solid black. Amanda stood in the middle of it. For the moment, she had feet and legs. Unable to see the ground, she could feel it under her naked feet. Amanda Dear wondered why death seemed timid to show her anything else.

  A carriage emerged from the dark several feet to her left. She didn’t know how she was able to see because the scene had no light to illuminate it, but she saw the carriage now. Maybe death granted magic eyes.

  The carriage looked as if it had traveled through flame: charred, flat black and smoking. It slowed just before Amanda and came to a stop. Four naked, hairless, human forms pulled it instead of horses. Like the carriage, they looked as if they’d been roasted: blistering crusts of flaking black skin; yellow pus oozed. The harnesses were contraptions of steel spikes, hooks, rods, and wires driven under their skin, connecting them in an organized quad. The smell of raw, roasted f
lesh and burning blood hung in the air.

  The solely occupant leaned his head out the carriage window and smiled at Amanda. “Welcome,” he said, his voice strangely elegant. “It’s good to have you home.”

  It wasn’t a surprise coming from him. This was the last place Amanda would ever call home.

  He opened the door, and Amanda Dear stepped inside. She wasn’t afraid.

  As death had granted her feet when convenient, Amanda noticed she was wearing a thin, white nightgown.

  Inside the carriage, she could observe the entirety of his bulk. Huge black horns, like a yak, curved, angling out from each side of his head. His scarlet flesh was a mirror of flame, changing from yellow to orange, then from black to red. His tail was huge and thick; it snaked up behind his back and disappeared out the carriage window. His claws and toenails were manicured points of polished black, matching his horns.

  Lucifer’s mouth contorted in a demented smile. He endeavored to ooze charm. Heat and flame emanated from his flesh. To Amanda Dear, the devil looked less impressive than how she imagined.

  “How are you, Amanda darling?” he asked.

  “Amanda Dear,” she corrected. She smiled, not wanting him to get the best of her. “And I’m fine, thank you very much.”

  The carriage lurched forward. The air grew thick with suffocating heat.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this moment,” the devil said. “It’s so good to see you. You know why you’re here, don’t you?”

  “Why don’t you enlighten me,” she said.

  “Amanda, Amanda,” Satan said, shaking his head. He ran a huge index finger along the frame of the window. “You were always good at pretending to be dim-witted. Just giving you a bird’s-eye view of what to expect before the choice.”

  “Choice?”

  “Of course!”

  Satan said nothing more. Amanda Dear wanted to laugh; he seemed so smugly sure of himself. There had to be more to death than this!

  Walls of flame loudly erupted on both sides of the carriage. Was this the Lake of Fire?