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Chapter Twenty-Seven

Khaos

D read like a shard of ice pierces through me leaving every nerve numb and frost bitten. For the last five years I convinced myself that I would only ever hear that voice in my nightmares, yet here it is scraping the canals of my ears like glass, making me want to bleed out.

It doesn’t surprise me when I spin around that Bordeaux hasn’t changed at all, not even the ripped, stained wife beater that he wears like a second skin.

In this moment, I realize two things; there’s never been a true God and if I’m wrong, then he isn’t my friend.

“Ollie.” My name sends shivers down my spine as it spews from rotten, misshaped teeth. “Been a long time, boy.”

The grip he has on my shoulder tightens as he leads me away from the woods and into the field towards the street. As the wind shifts, a body odor worse than rotting corpses strangles my senses making my eyes water and my stomach churn.

A million questions run through my mind at once, but only one sings louder than the rest.

Where’s Ash ?

Something tells me even if I had the courage to demand answers right now, I’m not going to like them.

I continue following Bordeaux to the street, my feet weighing me down like cinder blocks.

Every single atom that makes up my body is on alert.

Red flags blind my vision and war horns at a deafening decibel, sound throughout the night.

Yet, I keep walking towards the gates of hell knowing exactly what waits on the other side.

Unfortunately, what also waits is most likely Ash and I’d rather walk into those fiery pits barefoot than to run and save myself.

“Get in.” A chunky finger points to a beaten down beige Saturn.

As I open the door to the backseat, I quickly slip my phone out of my pocket and tuck it between the seats, hoping it’s forgotten.

The car rocks with the weight of the human pig as he settles into the driver’s side, turning back to face me with his palm outstretched.

I shrug, pretending I have no idea what he’s asking for.

“Don’t play stupid, Ollie. You’re phone.”

Digging into my pockets, I pull them inside out, then tuck my hands into my sweatshirt. I make a show of searching the car floor, my hand settling on the door handle.

“I must’ve dropped it outside. I’ll just go get it.” I pop the handle, but Bordeaux’s fist twisting the front of my hoodie forces me to stop.

“Fuckin’ leave it.” He shoves me against the seat.

I throw both hands up in surrender, quickly closing the door. Satisfied with my lie, he grunts and ignites the engine, speeding off and away from my very short-lived safe haven.

“You’re not even going to ask me how we found you? What we did with that girl?” He goads, his dead eyes trying to catch mine in the rearview mirror .

“I’m guessing I’m going to find out soon enough.” I mumble, desperate for him to shut the fuck up.

Within an hour the Saturn is creeping up to an archaic structure, a soft red glow emanating from the front windows. It sits in a field of dead grass with a thicket of trees as the backdrop.

“Welcome home, Ollie. Father will be thrilled to see you.” Bordeaux huffs as he climbs out of the vehicle.

I meet him by the dented hood before following him towards the prison for lost souls.

We climb the steps in silence, the heavy double doors creaking open on old hinges.

Memories flash before me as his meaty fingers grip my bicep, only now there’s more muscle making it harder to grasp as he yanks me forward.

A sudden blindness takes hold of my sight as if a burlap sack is placed over my head.

Shaking the cloudiness from my eyes, I stumble forward. It dawns on me that I can see. Not just now, but the entire time. I saw every single street sign and mile marker on our way here, which can only mean one thing -

I’m not leaving, at least not alive.

Our footsteps echo loudly in the foyer, my eyes catching on the empty fountain meant for baptisms sitting in the center and I wonder to myself if it was ever used to welcome innocent souls into the house of God. If it has, I can confidently say it hasn’t served that purpose in over a decade.

Dirt shuffles beneath each step, grinding down under my feet into the grout of the tile.

The same dirt that’s sat here for years, no one bothering to sweep it away.

Hardly anyone ever came through the front of the church, this room holding no purpose to the family .

No, they all hid beyond the sacred room, deep inside this castle of horrors.

Bordeaux hauls open a door to the chapel, gesturing for me to enter first. I almost expect to burst into flames as I take that first step through, but to my dismay I remain completely intact. Numb, but still very much alive.

Slowly, I inch forward through the center isle of pews towards the altar where a familiar face awaits. My lungs fill with concrete and collapse into my stomach as I halt before the man who calls himself Father .

With a wicked smile, he begins reading an excerpt from the Satanic Bible.

“When a Satanist commits a wrong, he realizes that it is natural to make a mistake – and if he is truly sorry about what he has done, he will learn from it and take care not to do the same thing again.”

My gaze catches on the figure behind him, Jesus’ body hanging from a cross, his head replaced with a goat’s.

Those beady, little eyes stare right back at me, taunting me yet again.

There’s a soft glow produced by a plethora of lit candles lining the walls of the nave and the chancel.

It casts a shadow over Father, darkening his ghostly skin and the grey hair tied behind his head and smattering his chin.

I stay standing, feigning a blank expression, waiting for him to reveal the plans he has for me.

“You’ve finally come home, my son.” His voice slithers over every inch of my skin, leaving behind a slime I will never be able to get rid of. “I have a feeling this time you’re going to stay.”

“Where’s Ash?” I finally bite out, my voice stronger than I feel.

“I’m so glad you asked. She’s here, getting to know the family . I figured you might need a little motivation to find your way back.” He snickers, the motion of his lips animating his whiskers.

“When do I get to see her?” I ask wearily.

“After you atone for your betrayal and rejoin our family, but it’s late now. We’re all very tired and it seems we have a big day ahead of us. Bordeaux-” Father smirks, snapping his fingers to call his guard dog, “- show Oliver to his old room.”

Fuck.

My chest convulses, my heart nearly giving out.

As Bordeaux aims to snatch my arm again, my fist instinctively snaps back and rams right into a cushion of fat padding his cheek.

His head barely budges on impact, but the shock of it all sends him into a crazed fury.

My added years and muscles still don’t stand a chance against the brute.

He’s as hefty as a full-grown bull and equal in rage.

With all his might, he charges forward, barreling into me. My back smacks the ground first, the impact punching the air from my lungs, followed by my head. My brain bounces violently inside my skull, blinding my vision.

Before I can find my sight and a decent breath, Bordeaux’s fist painfully collides with the side of my face. I lay there straddled by a man twice my size, staring at the altar sideways. A searing white light strikes behind my eyes, clearing all thoughts and feelings, dousing me in an empty void.

I don’t feel the claws fisting my hoodie until I’m lifted off the ground, I don’t notice my feet as they trip over each other, I don’t hear the snarls and threats spit right in my ear.

Blank.

I’m empty and blank.

Right where I want to be.

The sound of metal clanking together drags me from this state of catalepsy, grounding me back to reality. It’s a brutal fall from a beautiful void of nothing, only to drown in pain and despair .

As my fingers lift to touch the ache pulsating against my face, I notice the cuffs chained to my wrists. I push myself up to a sitting position, my back resting against the concrete wall. The same wall that holds five years' worth of secrets, heartache, and agony.

I take a look around the barren cellar, the same rotten mattress still lays in the corner and the same white, wooden chair still sits in front of me.

Nothing has changed. My eyes even spot the dark brown stains along the ground where I’ve nearly bled out time and time again.

If I listen closely, I can even hear my younger self screaming for mercy, begging for reprieve, and praying for salvation.

None of it ever came.

Hopelessness settles deep inside my veins like a lethal drug, killing any dreams of saving Ash and making an escape.

I’m not fucking Superman, I’m not a hero, so why the fuck did I ever think I could save her?

I hardly saved myself, worse yet, I’ve willingly stepped back into my own living nightmare.

Time drags on, yet I have no clue if it’s been hours or days.

My head feels heavy, yet my mind feels lighter than air.

A loud scream startles me, only to realize that it’s my stomach crying in hunger.

It’s all too familiar. Even the uncomfortable fullness of my bladder despite my tongue yearning for water.

Every movement is like a needle threatening to pop a balloon that’s stretched too thin with water.

I’m seconds away from just pissing myself.

Before I decide to finally give in, the door to the basement cellar creaks open. Soft footsteps traipse down the stairs taunting me. I can’t bring myself to lift my gaze, none of them worthy of my attention, but the voice that fills the silence demands it.

“Oliver?”

I train my blurry eyes on the figure gliding towards me. Soft, bare feet pad forward peeking out beneath the hem of a long white dress. She crouches down, falling to her knees, her face level with mine as she hands over a clear, plastic cup of water.

“May?” My eyes widen as I take the cup, swallowing it down in one gulp.

“What happened? Why are you back?” Her quiet voice flutters out of her dark red lips like butterflies on a warm summer day.

My fingers reach up to touch a strand of her blonde, silky hair that hangs low past her shoulders.

It’s been five years since I’ve seen her last, but she looks so different.

What once was a round face padded with youth is now tight with hollowed cheeks and deep circles.

There’s a small cut on her lower lip and bruises worn like blush.

As I look her over, it’s not only the gauntness I notice, but further down she sports a round, swollen belly. My brows cave in, concerned. With the tips of my fingers I graze her stomach, knowing all too well what’s growing in there.

“You were right.” She whispers, looking down at where we connect. “I don’t know what normal is outside of here, but I know it can’t be this.”

“You should’ve come with me. We should have left together.” I swallow down the emotions threatening to consume me.

“You know I couldn’t have. What was I supposed to do with a baby in a world I’ve never known? Anyway, look at you. You ended up right back here. What do you suppose would have happened to me if I ran off with Father’s child? I wouldn’t live to find out, now would I?”

“You have another?” I ask, curiously.

She nods, “I have two others. I think I’m more trapped than you’ve ever been.”

“I’m so sorry. ”

I am. Beneath her words lays a darker meaning. I always had the choice to suffer or choose peace in death, but May is shackled to this world with children that rely on her for safety.

“Don’t be. It's the life I was born into.” She dismisses my apology with a wave.

“It’s gotten worse since you left. Father hasn’t been the same and when he found out you were famous, he just about lost it.

I think he’s afraid that you’ll talk, tell the world about the family .

He’s been so on edge.” Her fingers inch up towards the purple and blue coloring that splashes across her cheek.

“He’s been in this paranoid state the last five years thinking extremists were going to tear us all apart. ”

Extremists? More like the Feds.

“I’m not famous. Well, I wasn’t, not until I became the boy that rose from the dead. I had a family out there looking for me while I sat down here for years.” I remind her.

She gnaws on her bottom lip, flinching when her teeth scrape over the open wound. I watch as she licks away the blood that starts to ooze.

“They must’ve been so happy to hear you were alive.”

“They were. I can’t imagine they’ll be too happy to find me missing again.”

“Why are you back, Ollie?” She asks again.

“That bastard took something of mine.”

Her brows raise, puzzle pieces starting to click behind her eyes.

“The girl?”

My heart skips a beat and I sit up a little straighter, trying hard to ignore the increasing pressure in my abdomen.

“You’ve seen her?”

“Blonde hair, blue eyes, short? Yeah, I’ve seen her.”

Suddenly, this horrid feeling envelops me, stirring in my chest. A feeling like...

Hope .

“Ash.” I whisper. “Where is she? Is she okay? At least tell me she’s alive.”

“She’s alive. Scared, but alive.” She reassures me. “She’s staying in Martha’s old room.”

“What happened to-”

“Passed. Father sent Martha home a little earlier than we all expected.”

I nod. Another young girl sacrificed for a sadistic cause.

“I can’t stay long, I don’t want to get caught, but when I heard the rumors that you were back, I just had to see for myself.” She pushes to her feet.

Before she can leave me, I grab the hem of her dress. “Wait. May?”

“Hmm?”

“Any chance you can unlock these?” I hold my wrists up.

Fear flashes across her face draining every bit of color.

“You know I can’t.” Her voice wobbles and a tear slips down her cheek. “Ollie, you know you’re asking me to get myself killed right? You’re asking me to put my children in danger. I- I-”

“It’s fine. I get it. Your kids come first. They should. I’m sorry I asked.” Though that small sliver of hope I felt earlier crumbles at her words, I don’t blame her. “Can I just ask you one thing? Look out for Ash?”

“Of course.” She wipes her tears away, replacing them with a sad smile. “You know, I would give anything to have someone love me enough to walk back into this hell just to be there for me. You’re a good man, Ollie.”

“I’m a dead one, May.”

Her smile falters as she turns on her heels, looking back only once before disappearing up the stairs. She leaves me here with nothing but words I wish I believed.

Am I a good man?