Apathetic God

by Ian Withrow

  They were alone.

  “You’re avoiding me, little bird.”

  “No, I-”

  “Enough!”

  Weyland’s voice went from playfully dangerous to an outright yell, shocking Lauren into silence. She took an involuntary step backwards at his sudden anger. He mirrored her movement, stepping closer to her.

  “Now… my little dove. You know I despise that word. No one has the right to deny me, not even you. You understand this, yes?”

  He took another step.

  The walls of the courtyard felt like they were closing in around her. Lauren fought her claustrophobia and looked for an exit. But there wasn’t one, she was cornered.

  Or am I?

  Lauren had no sooner thought to flex her powerful wings than Weyland’s hand shot out and gripped her forearm. She felt her skin blistering at his wrathful grasp. Heat cascaded from him in waves.

  “I asked you if you understood me.”

  She could do nothing but nod. Her eyes watered with pain, but he didn’t seem to notice the tears on her cheeks.

  “Good.”

  A moment of dizziness preceded a loud crackling bang that sent Lauren sprawling to the floor. She was no longer in the courtyard, instead the cold stone beneath her outstretched form was smooth black marble tile.

  The floor was both familiar and utterly foreign to her. She knew it was his bedroom, she could see every inch of it laid out in her mind. But, in the same way, she knew she had never been here before. Primal instincts were stirring inside her, rebelling at what she simply could not believe was happening.

  She was still disoriented from appearing here when she felt his large hand grabbing a fistful of her hair. An acrid burning smell filled her nose and tears streamed down her face as she hissed in pain.

  “P-please, you’re hurting me!”

  “Little bird, it’s you that is hurting me! Do you think I like to do this? Don’t you think it pains me to see you act this way?”

  Weyland’s belief in his words was evident from his tone, and the injured look on his face as he dragged Lauren to her feet.

  “Don’t you think it’s cruel to strut around naked in our house, to flaunt this beautiful dress and then to deny me my right?”

  Lauren’s wild eyes flitted back and forth, focusing sharply on the myriad details of the room. A massive, black-sheeted bed was immediately beside them, polished mahogany furniture was accented by gold trim and brass fixtures.

  Lauren’s terrified vision was obscured as Weyland pressed his lips forcefully against hers.

  She let out a stifled scream, pushing against his bare chest with all her might. It was no use, he was stronger than her by miles. All she got for her effort was blistered hands. She felt his other hand wrap around her back and crush her against him. His body rubbed against hers, his bare flesh held at bay only by the thin fabric of her dress.

  He slid his hand up her leg, riding the slit in her dress and hiking up her hem as he did so. Panic gripped her, and lent her sudden clarity. She clawed at his eyes like a wildcat, digging at them with all her strength.

  It worked.

  For a brief moment he let go of her, instinctively jerking away to protect his eyes.

  Trapped between him and the dresser behind her, Lauren leapt onto the bed. She scrambled across the silk sheets, hoping to cross it before he recovered. She nearly made it. Just inches from freedom, she felt his vice-like grip on her ankle.

  “What a cruel, selfish thing to do.”

  Weyland’s tone was flat, with no hint of remorse.

  With an effortless yank, he slid her back across the bed towards him. She tried to squirm away but he pinned her beneath his bulky frame. His weight, mostly centered on her hips, was crushing.

  “I don’t know what happened to you. What brought this sudden disobedient, disrespectful streak.”

  He shifted slightly forward, resting on her diaphragm and knocking the wind out of her. Her lungs empty, her screams were barely more than whispers. Weyland reached down and grasped the front of her dress with both of his hands, ripping it open and exposing her chest to him. His eyes widened with desire. A heartless, lustful smile was plastered on his face as his fingers traced her collarbone and lower. Screwing her eyes shut. Lauren reached out desperately for anything to defend herself. Her desperate fingers found a heavy wooden box on the nightstand. She locked her hand onto it and swung it as hard as she could.

  Her clumsy swing was easily countered. Weyland struck the box from her hand with such force that it exploded into splinters. Lauren’s eyes widened with surprise at the sudden piercing pain she felt in her chest.

  Looking down, she could see a large splinter impaling her chest, just above her left breast. Weyland paused, exchanging a startled glance with her.

  Blood welled up around the wood, pouring off either side of her chest and staining the brown satin tatters of her dress.

  I remember.

  Flashing red and blue lights washed over the pair as the room started to darken and spin. The smell of vomit and strong liquor flooded the bedroom. Only it wasn’t a bedroom anymore, it was cold asphalt covered in tiny shards of wood and glass.

  Waves of memories washed over Lauren as reality flickered in and out. The events of the years before her fall from the tower in Chicago, compressed into a few heartbeats, flashed before her eyes too quickly to process. Weyland was gone, the bedroom and the palace were gone, replaced by a tornado of sights, colors, and sounds from her past.

  Lauren sat bolt upright, gasping for air like a drowned man returned to life. She thrashed around for a moment, fighting the blankets that lay upon her.

  Wherever she was, it was dark. She was in a large, comfortable bed of some kind. Aware that she was lost, and that she had just made a considerable amount of noise, Lauren froze and tried to listen for clues as to where she might be. She could hear the distant rumble of machinery, but it seemed to be far away. The room smelled of incense, but also fresh concrete. More than that, she had no clue. She focused on herself instead.

  She was clothed, sort of. She was wearing what felt like lingerie, some sort of lacy bra and panty set with a short kimono that was loosely belted at her hips. Other than the unorthodox wardrobe, which brought its own set of uncomfortable questions, everything seemed to be in order. She was stiff, a little cold, and felt bruised all over her body, but she was intact.

  A faint light approached, leading her to duck back into the covers with her eyes barely cracked. She tensed, preparing to defend herself as the light drew nearer. Eventually, she could see that it was not so distant as she had expected. Rather, it had been behind a screen of hanging beads marking a doorway.

  A young woman appeared from the darkness. She was pretty, a tiny blonde woman with bright blue eyes and thick glasses. In her hands she held a small, battery powered camping lantern. She moved very quietly, and Lauren was sure she wouldn’t have woken up from her presence if she had still been asleep. Lauren couldn’t make out much more about the woman until she came nearer to the bed. She was wearing a sheer, cream-colored dress and an intricate gold choker-style necklace. Her fancy clothes made the drab, pocket-covered bag slung over her shoulder much more noticeable.

  Lauren didn’t get a threatening feel from the girl, but decided it was better to be safe than sorry. She waited, frozen, while the girl cast a furtive look around and then set her lantern at a small table next to the bed. She dug in the bag for a moment, and then produced a small jar of something. After another cautious look around, she sat on the bed next to Lauren.

  The woman pulled the covers back, exposing Lauren’s body to the dim light. It was all Lauren could do not to flinch, or to look down and see more clearly what she was doing.

  Her composure lasted only until the woman dabbed something cold and wet on her inner thigh.

  She sharply inhaled at the unexpected sensation, revealing herself. Her visitor let out a tiny squeak, and covered her mouth with her hands.

 
Lauren sat up like a rocket, gripping the girl before she could try to escape. Surprisingly, the woman didn’t even try. Instead she embraced Lauren, crying silently into her shoulder as she squeezed her tight.

  “Lay back, my lady, I need to tend to your burns.”

  Burns?

  Lauren looked down at herself. Her inner thighs were covered in deep burns. They were healing before her eyes, but they were still quite serious. Lauren wondered at how fresh they might be. Her stomach, breasts, neck, and from the feel of it her back and buttocks were similarly burned.

  “How did this happen to me?”

  The woman burst into tears. She cried herself hoarse, unable to speak as she embraced Lauren in the darkness.

  Chapter Four

  Lauren’s stomach churned as Natalie told her what had happened in the two months since she’d tried to kill herself. Weyland had picked her up in chicago and brought her here, to Athens, where an army of slaves was rebuilding the Parthenon in honor of her “rescuer.”

  She had nearly recovered when he induced the dream-state in her mind, and he had kept her that way ever since. Natalie revealed that she too had been taken into the strange vision-realm, albeit for only for a few minutes at a time. Even now, parts of the dream felt more real than some of her memories. It was a confusing blur of disjointed information that had her questioning what was real and what wasn’t.

  There were other things, darker things, that Natalie refused to speak of. Like why she applied burn cream to Lauren’s body every morning.

  Hours passed in the pre-dawn morning and a sickness grew inside Lauren while Natalie spoke. It was a toxic mixture of rage, self-loathing, humiliation, and guilt.

  “I have to be going soon, Lauren. He visits you each morning after the sun rises. He enjoys watching it and then ah… he comes and looks at you while you sleep.”

  Lauren shook her head no.

  “You have to get me out of here.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  Natalie reached a hand to her throat, absentmindedly touching the choker around her neck. Lauren could see the fear in her eyes as she considered her command.

  “Lauren I… I want to help you but I’ve seen what he can do. He sets his rules and he follows them. But he can be very cruel to those who break them”

  Lauren knew she was right. She could feel it in her battered flesh that he was indeed cruel. But she would not stay.

  “Then I’ll figure it out on my own.”

  Lauren stood unsteadily. Her legs wobbled, but her gift had kept her from losing too much muscle while she was bedridden. She peered in the semi-darkness, locating a dresser and sliding the drawers open silently. Thankfully, they were full of clothes, so she wouldn’t have to run around quite as exposed as she had in the dream.

  No. Not a dream. And not a nightmare either. More like the perverted desires of an apex predator. She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge what she knew. The twin comforts of shock and denial cushioned her mind. They helped her slip into a dress in the darkness and make her way to the door.

  “Wait, Lauren.”

  Natalie’s hissing whisper was like a shout in the quiet room. Lauren paused, she looked back at Natalie, her face illuminated softly in the light she had brought with her.

  “I wish I could help you.”

  Lauren said nothing.

  She was running through a maze of corridors. Some of them were very old, they had velvet ropes cordoning off areas and were filled with small placards bearing explanations of what she was supposed to be looking at. Other areas looked new. Fresh concrete and stone married up perfectly with the existing architecture.

  The buzzing sound of power tools seemed to echo from several directions at once. Every time she passed an intersection it seemed she went deeper into the labyrinth. Finally though, she saw someone. A man in blue overalls. He was covered in bits of plaster, carrying a large bucket in one hand and a short ladder over his shoulder.

  Lauren wasn’t sure if she should approach him and ask for help. What if he alerted someone? What if he turned her in? Did she have a choice?

  “Excuse me!”

  she hurried towards him, her bare feet tapping lightly against the stone floor.

  He looked around for a moment, confused, and then he saw her. His eyes widened and he dropped to the floor with a clatter. Well, it was a better reaction than she had feared.

  “Get up, please. I need to get outside. Do you speak English?”

  The man looked at her dumbfounded. He answered her, but she had no clue what he was saying. Lauren wracked her brain. She didn’t know any greek, it’s not like her rural high school had a course after all.

  Wait. Maybe that was it! She tried to think of latin words she had learned in school. Anything that might relate to the outside world at all.

  “Ahh… H-Helios?”

  She pointed upwards, trying to pantomime a sun by making a fist and wiggling her fingers near it. He looked like a game show contestant who had run out of lifelines.

  “Helios…?”

  He mulled the word over, scratching his chin for a moment.

  “Ah! Ilios? Ilios!”

  He stood, pulling up his shirt sleeve to reveal a tattoo of the sun and pointed at it excitedly.

  Lauren nearly burst into tears right then and there. She nodded.

  The man gave her a big smile and a little bow. He turned and started walking off down the corridor. Lauren pulled up next to him. He was talking as he walked, gesturing at the new construction. He was clearly very proud of his work. Lauren tried to get him to hurry in every way she could. She walked a bit ahead of him, she made impatient sighs and made a show of looking down the hallway ahead of them.

  He was totally immune.

  Rounding a corner, they met another group of workers. The new people greeted her companion after bowing to her. They gave him sideways looks but he seemed to be explaining to them what had happened.

  At great length.

  Lauren tapped her foot, but the men didn’t seem to notice at all. She had no watch, no method of knowing the time, but these men were certainly just showing up for work. That had to mean Weyland would come for her soon.

  She could take it no longer.

  “Hey!”

  She snapped her fingers, and, when that didn’t work, she loudly clapped her hands.

  “Hey, God damnit!”

  The men looked at her, cowed by her tone. They stood quietly staring at her.

  “Ilios. Take me to ilios now!”

  Her original companion gave a low wave to his friends and muttered something. He held out a hand, indicating that Lauren should proceed. She did so, and the two of them continued at a much more acceptable pace.

  Finally, Lauren could see daylight. The pair entered a large foyer. The room was filled with half-finished frescoes and the marble floor was still littered with construction equipment and paint-covered drop cloths.

  Lauren tapped her guide on the shoulder and thanked him profusely. He didn’t understand her words, of course, but the big hug she gave him seemed to break the language barrier.

  Turning, she sprinted across the room and out into the open air. It was just after dawn, and the sun cast long shadows across the courtyard before her. A dull rumble shook the ground. He must have discovered her absence.

  Lauren wasted no time taking to the skies. Even so, she was barely 30 feet off the ground when Weyland appeared with a crackling bang.

  “Lauren!”

  Was that concern in his voice? It was hard for Lauren to tell, she was too focused on getting away from him. She rose another twenty feet and pulled into a tight circle. Risking a glance she saw he was still earthbound below her. The feeling of freedom she had when she flew intensified. She was safe, untouchable, a leaf in the wind.

  “Lauren, where the hell are you going?”

  With every passing moment Lauren felt her strength growing. Her body was whole and complete once more. The early rays of the sun charged he
r body and renewed her courage.

  “Leave me alone!”

  He looked... shocked. Hurt, even.

  “What? Why? Come down here so we can talk.”

  He seemed frighteningly genuine. Confused, frustrated, but also concerned.

  She hovered a while, struggling internally. At last she decided she would fly lower, but she couldn’t bring herself to land and be within his grasp. He looked annoyed as she dropped to 30 feet but no lower.

  “Lauren-”

  “Stop. Stop it, you don’t talk.”

  His eyes narrowed and his already dark skin sank a few shades darker.

  “What did you do to me?”

  “I put you into a dream state so your body could continue to recover. It’s harmless.”

  “Harmless? You call what you did to me harmless!”

  She was shouting now, and the workers who happened to be in the courtyard had all frozen to observe the spectacle.

  “Lauren, my little bird, you’re over-”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “You’re overreacting. Come down here and we can talk more over breakfast. I’ll have the servants prepare pancakes for you, your favorite.”

  Lauren was flabbergasted.

  “D-do you really think pancakes can fix this? Can make up for what you… did to me?”

  “I’m honestly not sure what you’re mad about. The dream state reflects, in some ways, the desires of the dreamer. Obviously the framework is my design but most of the details were drawn from things you subconsciously desire-”

  Lauren swooped to the ground, overcome with rage. She marched up to him and jammed a finger in his face. Her body trembled uncontrollably as she confronted him.

  “How dare you. How dare you say I wanted… that.”

  “Well, why shouldn’t you? You, like me, are unique. You were born for me, can there be any question about it?”

  Lauren opened and shut her mouth several times. She was shocked at his arrogance.

  “You’re a monster.”

  “No, I am a God. You would do well to respect that, my love. You have the incredible privilege of being born the natural queen to my kingdom-”