The Pain Eater

by Beth Goobie

  “What was it that got Farang thinking differently in her fifteenth year? What made her start waking up, thinking, I can, instead of I can’t? Because she did – we know this from the first chapter. In her fifteenth year, Farang stopped believing she had to eat pain for the tribe. She stopped believing that they had the right to decide who she was and what she got to do in life. She stopped saying ‘I can’t,’ and she started saying ‘I can.’ I can think for myself. I can be who I want to be. I can. I can.

  “She knew she wouldn’t get help from anyone else. If Farang was going to change her life, she was going to have to do it on her own. And, at least for now, she was going to have to keep it secret. So what she did was she built her own temple. Off in the woods where no one else went, she collected beautiful stones that she found by the river. They were only beautiful stones – each one a lovely color and polished smooth by the water. Some were of quartz, others had mica running through them, but they all had to make her feel as if lovely wings had opened inside her and were beating softly, lifting her up. Slowly, she built these stones into an altar. It wasn’t an altar like the priestesses had in their temple, for animal sacrifices. Or where the high priestess put the soul stones sometimes, to put a hex on them. No, this was an altar for loveliness – for making life rather than taking it away. On this altar, there was no pain, only beauty and happiness. It was the place where Farang kept her soul.

  “Or where she wanted to. Because her soul was trapped in a stone the high priestess had. So Farang knew she had to get the stone back from the high priestess. This was almost impossible, because Farang wasn’t allowed in the temple unless she was with a priestess. She snuck in there alone at night, sometimes, but she’d never taken anything. And the high priestess kept a close watch on the soul stones – no one was allowed in her office except her. To take back her soul stone would be the hardest thing Farang had ever done, but she wanted to put that stone on the very top of her altar. So she made a vow to herself. ‘I can,’ she said, looking at the altar she’d built, with all its lovely, glowing stones. ‘I can and I will.’

  “The moon was on the wane that night, a half moon, so she didn’t have to do any pain eating. While everyone else slept, Farang snuck into the temple and along the hall to the high priestess’s office. Sometimes she saw a candle burning there, and then she knew the high priestess was hexing the soul stones. But tonight it was dark.

  “Farang waited at the doorway, but she couldn’t hear anything except the craziness of her own heart. Very, very quietly, she snuck across the room to where the stones were kept in a basket. She had a candle with her, to light her way. She started picking stones out of the basket and laying them on a table, so she could find her own soul stone.

  “She knew she had to hurry. She knew the high priestess could put her to death for this. But she tried to forget about all that. She knew what her soul stone looked like – it was dark red, and the high priestess had dug jagged zigzag marks like lightning across it. Sometimes Farang could feel those lightning marks shooting through her body, as if the high priestess was digging them right into her skin. Then she knew the high priestess was drawing her finger across the marks in her soul stone, and sending a curse at her. So Farang knew what her stone looked like, and when she saw it in the basket, after she’d picked out about fifty other stones, she knew it right away.

  “But it was too late. As Farang lifted her soul stone out of the basket, a shadow appeared in the doorway. It was the high priestess. Her face was white with anger, terrible to behold. ‘What’re you doing here?’ she shouted. ‘How dare you defile this temple by coming in here?’

  “Farang felt fear like never before, but she held onto her soul stone. She stared straight at the high priestess and said, ‘I can!’”

  For a moment, Rhonda continued to stare fixedly at the pages in her hand, and then she lowered them. “I didn’t write any more,” she said. “This is already more than three hundred words. So I left what comes next for the next person.”

  A hand shot up. “Throw the stones, man!” Vince burst out. “Like the kid in ‘War’!”

  Laughter swept the class, releasing the tension Rhonda’s chapter had built up. Ms. Mousumi laughed along with everyone else. “That,” she said, when they’d quieted down, “will be up to David Janklow. I’m glad you’ve rejoined us, David – just on time for your chapter. You can catch up on the chapters you missed by checking the website. We’ll hear from you on Monday. Now, everyone, we’ll move into our study groups.”

  Desks began to move as students shoved them into new positions. August settled in beside Maddy; Vince reversed the two desks in the first row, and sat down facing August. As the two of them struck up a conversation, Maddy sat, shrunk into herself and riding the kick-ass thud of her heart. Her mouth had gone dry; her stomach felt as if it was melting down the inside of her legs. Directly opposite, the empty desk waited. Maddy couldn’t think, couldn’t think. It was about to happen – David was about to cross the room and sit down across from her, and it wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t possible to keep sitting there with one of them so close, so—

  The blurred outline of a body appeared at the desk opposite, and Maddy felt a slight bump against her own desk as David sat down. “Nice of you to show up,” commented August, but before David could reply, terror took hold of Maddy; it rose through her in an absolute wave that picked her up, lifted her out of her desk, and shoved her toward the nearest wall. There she stood, hugging herself and trembling. Thoughts tore every which way in her head; her heart thundered like a crazed thing; with a whimper, she turned her back to the class and pressed her face to the wall.

  “Maddy?” A hand touched her shoulder. “Maddy, are you all right?”

  It was August. Flinching, Maddy pulled away. “What’s the matter, Maddy?” asked the other girl.

  Beyond August’s voice, Maddy could hear the ongoing chaos of desk-shoving and student chatter. The noise was reassuring; it moved in and wrapped around Maddy’s fear like a cocoon, muffling and calming it. Cautiously, she turned to look at the class. Groups were still setting up; in a far corner, Ms. Mousumi’s back could be seen as she stood talking to some students. Closer in, David sat slumped in the desk opposite her own empty one, staring downward. Turning his head, he said something to Vince. Then, as Maddy watched, the two boys stood and switched places.

  “Will that help, Maddy?” asked August, concern creasing her face. “Are you scared of David? What’s the matter with David?”

  Wordless, Maddy stared at her empty desk. Her heartbeat had slowed, its thundering quieter. Besides her own study group, no one seemed to have noticed her sudden panic. Maybe if she got a grip, Maddy thought, she could sit down again. David wasn’t going to jump her in a classroom packed with kids – this wasn’t a night street with no one around, she was safe here. If she could somehow manage to sit down now, August would lay off, and everything would go back to being normal, to being what it was supposed to be.

  “I’m fine,” Maddy said, not looking at August. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be okay.”

  “Are you sure?” asked August. “I can call Ms. Mousumi.”

  The teacher’s back was still turned. Incredibly, in spite of her initial careful scrutiny of Maddy’s work group, now that the crisis had occurred, Ms. Mousumi had missed it.

  “No!” said Maddy. Forcing herself to move, she brushed past August and walked to her desk. She felt jittery all over – buzzed; as she sat down, she bumped her right knee hard. Once seated, she slumped into her usual position, head down, a mirror image of David, now sitting kitty-corner to her. Whatever his reason for moving there, she realized immediately, it helped. It helped a lot. Sitting at an angle to him was still too close, certainly, but at least they were no longer directly face to face. How had David known this would improve things? Taking a long, shuddery breath, Maddy tried to clear out her fear. Beside her, August sat down.

>   “Okay,” said August. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  “You read ‘War’ last night like I told you?” asked Vince, turning to David.

  “Yeah, I answered the questions you gave me,” said David, and passed him some notes.

  Vince read David’s responses aloud, with August throwing in a few comments. Then the three began working on a group response to the question: “How does the protagonist’s conflict with his father mirror the larger social milieu in the story ‘War’?” Maddy contributed nothing. She had worked out her own answers the night before, but she didn’t open her binder now, nor did she volunteer any comments. Simply sitting there and surviving her heartbeat was enough. While her out-and-out terror had retreated, her body remained in its own state of war, within touching distance of the enemy and on high alert.

  The other three left her alone. As far as August and Vince were concerned, Maddy figured, she was a nutcase, a bump on a log best left undisturbed. She didn’t blame them. They were both nice kids – didn’t kick any dogs – but neither had volunteered to be friends with a freak, and as of today, Maddy definitely qualified. As for David, he obviously wanted as little to do with her as possible, which was fine with Maddy. In fact, as far as she was concerned, she wanted nothing to do with anyone. The present situation was fine with her – so fine, it was almost perfect.

  When the final bell rang, she waited as the other three stood and walked away, then got to her feet and left the classroom.

  . . .

  Saturday, late afternoon, Maddy sat alone in the tree house, smoking and flipping through a photo album. A July birthday gift from her mother, it contained enlarged color prints of Maddy, from her birth into her fifteenth year. Delores Malone insisted on prints of all her favorite photographs, especially of her daughters. Electronic images didn’t do it for her; she said they were only halfway to being real.

  Smile after smile passed through Maddy’s hands. There she was – in Halloween costumes, in a Girl Scout uniform, midway through an art project and smudged with paint. Or climbing out of a wave pool with friends. Posing in ballet shoes and softball uniform with Leanne. Pictures of herself with Leanne outnumbered those with anyone else; until a month ago, Maddy had thought of her older sister as an extension of herself – something to take for granted, like a hand or a foot.

  Not anymore. These days, Leanne could barely stand to remain in the same room. As soon as dinner was over, she was up and out the door. Maddy couldn’t remember the last time her sister had looked at her, spoken her name.

  Or anyone else, except maybe her parents. And there was that moment yesterday, when she’d freaked and pressed her face to the wall, and August had tried to calm her down. Take it easy, weirdo, Maddy thought, wincing at the memory. You’re acting like a baboon, an orangutan. Get a grip and get yourself back to the human race.

  August hadn’t said anything like that – she’d been really nice, in fact – but she must have been thinking it, thought Maddy. And no wonder, what with the way Maddy had been cringing against the wall, acting as if the world was about to end. What the hell was wrong with her, acting like that? David’s sitting down across from her wasn’t that big of a deal. He wasn’t, after all, one of the three who’d raped her. Why couldn’t she let go of the whole thing and get on with her life?

  Slowly, Maddy scanned several more photo album pages – pictures from her grade eight Farewell Ceremony, in which she was wearing a powder blue dress and a corsage. As she stood with a group of girlfriends, her grin was ear to ear. Nothing in that moment could have predicted what was coming – there was no premonition, no foreshadowing of approaching doom and the changes it would bring – that moment in the trees when the-Maddy-who-was ended, and the-Maddy-who-was-now moved in to take her place.

  That’s it, she thought dully. That part of me – the part that was before – is over and gone. Terminated. Bitterness swarmed her. Lifting the cellophane sheet that covered the photographs, she removed a picture of herself in blue dress and corsage, and tore it end to end. The riiiiip was satisfying; as Maddy watched her smiling face split apart, anger leapt through her. That anger felt like coming awake – powerful and good. Finally, she wasn’t a wimp, cringing against a wall. Finally, she was active, choosing, doing something.

  Selecting another picture, Maddy tore it in half, then into quarters and eighths. Another picture followed, and another. Page emptied, she flipped to the next and ripped into the smiles and giggles she found there – hugs and family togetherness, what was lost and would never be regained. And why wouldn’t it be regained? she thought in disgust. Because of herself – Maddy Malone. Because she’d been stupid. She’d been stupid enough to be out walking home alone in the dark when she should have known better. If she’d known better, none of this would have happened. It wouldn’t have happened, and she’d still be the girl she was before – a girl who could smile, who could laugh as if she got happiness for free. What a loser! Maddy thought contemptuously. What a freak! Bitch!

  Fragments of photographs lay scattered all around – faces split in half, bodies separated from heads. Tears streamed down Maddy’s face; an odd growling came from her mouth. Looking up from the mess of her life, she focused on the smudged mural opposite. Without a clear thought in her head, she grabbed an old sweatshirt lying nearby and wiped until the wall was clean. Then, yanking open a box of chalks, she grabbed a stick of black and began rubbing it across the now-blank wall. Twisted shapes appeared under her hand – no, not even shapes, just darkness shifting, the way a groan would look if it could be seen. It had been over a month since Maddy had done any drawing, but now she felt it happening the way it did when her hands were about to show her something, when her soul leaned out of her body into the chalk and took over, so that the wall before her – and the chalk, her hand, her mind – all became one, pulling what was unformed and indescribable into the real world, where it could be seen, touched, known.

  When she ran out of black chalk, Maddy picked up a brown and let it run itself through the black – swirling, shifting, moaning along the wall. Her breath came quick and fierce, her tongue caught between her teeth, her eyes intent. She could not have explained what she was sketching; the thoughts in her brain resembled the dark formlessness on the wall, but something deep and alive had risen within her; she could feel it pulsing through the chalk in her hand. When she ran out of brown, she moved on to gray – smudging, blurring, gouging the colors together. Finally, with the gray also down to a stub, she settled back onto her heels and surveyed what she’d drawn. Spent, she was utterly spent, her arms so heavy she couldn’t lift them, and the wall ahead of her was a mass of black, brown, and gray – formlessness mumbling to itself. And yet it was a beginning – the beginning of what, she didn’t know, just that it was leading somewhere, and wherever it went, she had to go with it.

  Maddy slumped to the floor and lay there, listening to the beating of her heart.

  Chapter Ten

  David stood at the front of the class. His shoulders slumped and he kept his eyes fixed on his phone. Though Maddy hadn’t worked up the courage to send him more than a single, skittering glance, it was enough to tell her that he was nervous. In fact, from the looks of things, nerves were eating David from the inside out.

  At the back of the room, Julie and Dana wore expectant expressions. Of course, thought Maddy. David would be one of their prime in-flu-ence targets. And, sitting right smack dab next to Julie, he would probably be eager to stay on her good side.

  “The Pain Eater,” croaked David, then flushed and cleared his throat. “Okay. Farang stood behind the basket of soul stones, staring at the high priestess. She had her own soul stone in her hand. She thought about throwing it at the high priestess and trying to make a run for it. But then she’d lose her soul again, and that’s why she was here – to rescue it.

  “So she swallowed her soul stone. It was a small stone and smooth, but not
easy to swallow. It hurt going down, but it wasn’t impossible. But it took concentration to swallow, so the high priestess had time to reach Farang and grab her so she couldn’t get away. Then she dragged Farang out of her office and into the main part of the temple, like a sanctuary in a church, I guess. The high priestess was big – not fat, but tall and with lots of muscles, like an athlete.

  “Once they were in the sanctuary, the high priestess screamed and pushed Farang around. ‘Help! There’s a thief in the temple!’ She wanted Farang to be discovered, y’see, but not in her office, because she had secrets there. But the sanctuary was okay, so she kept screaming and hitting Farang, and acting like she’d found her there. Farang fought to get away. She didn’t want to hurt the high priestess – just to get out of there.

  “The other priestesses came running. There were three, now that the other one had died. They grabbed Farang and held her, to give the high priestess a break. Think about it – it was creepy in there. An old temple, with glowering statues of the gods and candlelight flickering away. And maybe an altar where they sacrificed animals, or maybe even humans. No sunlight, not even moonlight – just these four creepy priestesses crowded around Farang, all mad as hell because she’d managed to get her soul back.

  “Well, no – just the high priestess knew that, but the other three were mad that she’d trespassed on temple grounds. That’s a big sin in this tribe. So when the high priestess says Farang has a demon in her and they have to baptize her in the river right away to get it out, they all agree. They all grab Farang and drag her to the river. Farang kicks and fights. She knows a baptism in the middle of the night by four mad priestesses isn’t going to be a high point in her life. But the tribe are all asleep. There’s no one to see. And the priestesses are being quiet now. One has her hand over Farang’s mouth so she can’t cry out. They’re at the riverbank, going into the water.