“Too soon for what?” she asked, feeling irritated. “Just tell me what you really think.”
“Well… I really think when you see yourself you’ll understand why I’m treating you so carefully.”
He only confused her more. “And it’s too soon for me to learn that?”
“No,” he said, again softly, “I mean… it’s not a pretty sight, it may be too upsetting.”
How funny he was. “It never was a pretty sight,” she said, lifting the mirror to see.
Chapter Seven
Her stomach clenched at the face staring back at her. Wow. She angled her head a little admitting to herself that it was worse than what she’d expected. Once, she’d read a book about a person with a very bad disfigurement. The Elephant Man. She touched her cheek where it was swollen and poked at the black near her eye. The skin was puffy around both and filled with various blues, blacks, and purples. So many colors.
“Do I get a name yet?”
She regarded him. What name did he want from her now?
“So I have something to call you by?”
Her stomach loosened a little until she considered answering him. What would he think of a name like Chaos? Silence wasn’t much better. And Chosen sounded… arrogant.
“You… do remember it?”
She shook her head but didn’t mean it as an answer to his question. Every name she had seemed inappropriate for normal. Chaos, Silence, Chosen. Before that they called her Baby and she never liked that name. She’d not minded her ceremonial names but she wasn’t in the Order at the moment and it seemed silly to use it with him. Especially if she was trying to… what was she trying to do? Bring him back with her. Would normal accomplish that? Maybe not. Maybe she stood a better chance luring him with the mystery of who she actually was. “Chaos,” she finally decided.
“What is?”
“My name.”
“Your name?”
She stared at him, not understanding his confusion and maybe dislike. “Yes. You don’t like it?” Everybody liked her name she’d thought.
“You’re serious? Is that your real name or nickname?”
“My real one.”
“Chaos.”
“Why do you keep repeating it like I don’t know my own name?”
For the first time his mouth formed a shape close to a smile but not quite. “Your name is actually Chaos. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a pretty cool name…”
Chaos voiced what went unspoken, “But...”
“I’m sorry, I’m being rude. I’m just… I’ve never heard of such a name. Do people call you by anything else?”
“Like what?”
He shrugged, “Like… Kay? For short?”
“K?” She couldn’t keep the anger from coming. “Everybody calls me Chaos. Nobody has a problem with it.” Or wouldn’t. She didn’t see the congregation but once a week for Desecrations and they’d not had one since she’d gotten her new name.
“Right, it was stupid of me to ask, I’ve just never heard of it before.”
“You’ve never heard of Chaos?”
“Yes. No, I mean I’ve heard of the word just not as a name. Mine is Solomon Gorge. Not the most common either.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
She stared at him, debating on how much he should know of what she knew. Really she only knew his name. “I dreamed of you,” she partially lied.
“Me?”
“Your name.”
He was quiet for a long time and she looked at him again, regretting her words at seeing the trouble on his face. “Did you… call it?” he finally asked.
Her heart began to hammer in her chest at his question and again, how to answer it. She suddenly felt like they were both at a crucial crossroad in this mission. “Did I?” she asked, knowing she had but preferring him to go first. If he’d heard it, then he was more powerful than she realized and had better tread carefully. She couldn’t have such power learning of her intentions. She was sure Master had safeguarded against such a thing. When it came to the mission, she never questioned what or how, as it was not her place or business. She merely trusted.
“I heard my name called. In a dream. The night I found you. Did you call it while you were being hurt?”
Chaos looked in her lap mostly to hide her awe that he’d heard her. She thought then about the intensity and anger in his words. Why were those things in his voice? Was he angry she had called him? “Yes,” she said, deciding it was okay to say so.
He gasped and leaned back in the chair. “Why couldn’t I have heard it before he half killed you?”
She regarded him quickly. How very, very odd he was. For some reason, Chaos had thought the chosen sacrifice was going to be more… something that he wasn’t. Or less of something he was. “Why should you want to?” Maybe it was part of why he was chosen. Maybe those unusual traits were necessary for this particular Desecration. It was supposed to be a once in a lifetime ritual, breaking the curse once and for all.
Judging by the look on his face, she was also very strange to him. Apparently they were supposed to have clashing traits or Master wouldn’t have chosen him. “How… can you even say that?” he said, sounding mortified. “Why shouldn’t I want to is the question?”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Well, it’s my question,” he demanded.
His defiance resurrected her own. “I asked first.”
He spread his arms at his side. “Because you’re supposed to want to help people, are you being serious?”
At seeing the negative effect all this was having on him she gave a small smile. “I was just teasing you. Of course you should and I’m glad you at least heard at all. How did you do that?”
Her change of direction seemed to work. “I don’t know,” he said. “How did you do that?”
“I don’t know,” she said back.
They sat in silence for a bit until Chaos looked down. “I need the bathroom. I’m sure I can go on my own.”
He stood immediately, making her muscles tense.
“Sorry.”
He’d noticed such a small thing?
“I should’ve thought to ask.”
Just the mention of needing the bathroom seemed to engage her body to do it immediately and Chaos focused on that. She moved the covers slowly off. “I got it,” she said when he tried to help her to the edge of the bed. She looked down at her once perfectly beautiful red dress, tattered and stained with dried blood. The fancy adornments on it were filled with broken leaves. She didn’t understand still why Master had done it. She only knew it was all for good reason.
“We’ll get you cleaned up as soon as you’re able. No need to rush things though, let your body heal and do its thing.”
She didn’t agree. She needed a shower.
Chaos put her feet on the floor and sat there, trembling in exhaustion. How could she already be tired?
“Hold my arm at least,” he insisted.
She looked at the solid offer of mobile assistance and decided she’d take it and suffer whatever negative consequence touching him might have. Latching her hand around his wrist and lining her forearm along his, she gripped hard. He lowered down a little and she stood slowly. For several seconds she didn’t move as she gasped in pain.
“Let me just carry you,” he begged softly.
She shook her head. “Got it,” she gasped.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered as she focused on taking her first step. The event was literally breathtaking and Chaos focused on one step in front of the other until they got to the door. Solomon reached out and opened it.
“I’m going to get you in the bathroom and let you try on your own but first sign of trouble you better call for me.”
She could only nod as she let him help her to the toilet. He got her turned around and in position. “Hold on to the towel bar with your right hand,” he instructed, helping her do that. “I’ll be right out here.”
H
e stepped out and Chaos held on to the bar while slowly working her dress up. It hit her suddenly that she had no panties. Oh God. She tried to remember not having them before this. Panic rushed through her as she tried to remember things. But as she did, flashes of pain exploded in various parts of her body.
“Are you okay?” he called.
She sat on the toilet too quickly and a scream shot out.
“What’s wrong?!”
“I’m fine,” she choked out, trembling while sitting on the toilet. “I’m fine,” she gasped, shaking from the strain. “I got it,” she called through the sharp burn up her spine with the release of her bladder. “Oh God,” she whispered, rigid with agony as flashes of more memories slammed her stomach and stole her breath.
“Are you okay?” Solomon called, sounding upset.
She shook her head, wanting to say no, she wasn’t okay. “I’m fine.” She made her voice loud and firm. “I’d like a shower.”
He gave a small gasp then, “Are you sure?”
“If I had a chair, I could manage it.”
“A chair,” she heard him mutter then, “I have one here. Would you like me to put it in the shower?”
“I need to… finish.”
“Tell me when.”
Chaos opened her legs, holding her breath as she wiped, knowing there would be pain. But when her trembling hand finally managed, the pain that should be there wasn’t. She touched all over down there, gasping in confusion. Then panic hit her as she felt with her fingers now. Oh God, no. Grandmother had not prepared her? She was supposed to prepare her!
She closed her eyes, fighting the wave of hysteria. She was the Order’s Redemptrix Vessel and she’d not been prepared? Why? What did this mean now? For the mission, the Order? Did Master know? Did he change his mind? Was she supposed to prepare herself? But how in the world would she?
She tried to remember being told anything about it, maybe she misunderstood the instructions that had been given?
She fought her way to standing, using all her strength to pull herself up on shaky legs. She stood there, eyes clenched shut for several seconds. “Okay,” she finally managed.
He opened the door and she didn’t look at him, feeling more ashamed than ever now. He put the chair in the shower. “How do you plan to undress?” he asked, sounding horrified.
“I’ll manage.” She always managed, she always survived somehow, this was just a shower.
“There’s probably a zipper I can undo to make it easier at least.”
She nodded, too afraid to unlatch herself from the towel bar for fear of falling.
“I’ll get the shower on and set first.” He turned and did that, shoving the flimsy white curtain all the way open. “I’ll put all the things you might need on the floor where you can reach them.”
Again she nodded barely, her body beginning to tremble from holding onto the towel bar with all her strength.
He finally approached her after getting everything ready. “Don’t move, I’ll look.” A few seconds later he mumbled, “Found it. Going to slowly unzip now.”
For the first time she realized that his carefulness was having a positive effect on her body even if she did find it odd and her mind was opposed for some reason. The release of the zipper came with his mutters about bruising and probable broken ribs.
Not broken. Master wouldn’t do anything life threatening, only things that made her wish she was dead. And right now, she did wish it, but what consumed her mind and soul were the exact details she lacked.
“I’ll manage the rest,” she whispered, still unable to raise her gaze.
“I’ll be right outside the door,” he said, standing closer than she liked.
He finally left and the second he shut the door, Chaos braced for the journey to the shower, feeling like her body was on a countdown to shutting down. Three steps to the stall. One at a time. She could make it. She reached toward it with a trembling hand.
Thoughts of Grandmother came in that second and the years of preparation. She was taking her mother’s place. She’d never met her but it made her feel connected to the memories she’d pieced together. Grandmother had answered all her questions and Chaos had knit together a nice life for herself where Chaos saved her mother from a treacherous fate. That fate was now hers and had become one of redemption and salvation that made her happy. Happy to give her mother such a gift. Especially since she’d given her life when bringing her into this world.
The bright and beautiful graduation gown that Chaos had pranced proudly in now hung like burial linen on her body. She recalled how it hugged her like a devoted lover and now, at the barest raise of her arms, it dropped heavily to the floor.
“I should really help you sit on the chair in the shower,” he called from outside just as Chaos made it to the stall. She realized how right he was as she studied the chair that still felt like a mile away in a treacherous valley.
The agony in her body from the three steps she’d taken prevented her from being able to answer him. She was at a do or die point. Not sitting soon would result in her on the floor in some embarrassing, indecent sprawl. She had to finish.
Lifting one foot over the threshold, she trembled like a leaf barely hanging on a dead limb. One more step. Bracing, she took it, which put the side of her head right in the shower’s stream. She stood still, gasping loudly while allowing her body and mind to add hot water to her already overloaded senses while the steam reminded her of the suffocating feel of the swaddling sheet.
She stared down at the chair like it was the last thing on her bucket list before she passed out. Please let me make it on the chair. Chaos very slowly turned. One painful inch at a time. The sound of her distress came in a chortle of whimpered grunts as she faced the shower stream and held onto the walls.
She carefully lowered.
Oh God. More whimpers fought to mix in with her labored gasps. Then her bare bottom touched down, and shards of heat shot to the base of her skull, making her nearly vomit. A wave of dizzy hit her and she swayed left, fighting not to pass out. Visions of Solomon having to pick her naked body up off of the floor compelled her to stay conscious.
Five whole minutes later she sat there under the spray of the shower now lukewarm, realizing how foolish she’d been to need a shower. What was she doing? She was a bucket of bleeding raw insides. There was no cleaning this. There was no bringing comfort to these wounds, no mending this kind of broken mess it had all somehow become.
She sat there in the growing misery. What now? She needed to wash her body and hair but the odd and urgent need to die was suddenly more pressing. It gnawed at every pore and crevice in her mind. Everything was too broken and beyond repair. She was at the threshold she’d spent years to arrive at and was not even prepared. The Redemptrix Vessel was not ready to obtain the sacrifice.
All the years of training and suffering slowly seeped from her pores and leaked out of her eyes along with her stubborn courage. She suddenly wished she was back in the bed. His bed. Dreaming dreams that ended it all.
“Sweetheart, are you okay?”
Sweetheart. Oh God, that voice. Damn that voice. The power in it mixed with the hot water, the pain, the agony, the despair, making it impossible to deny. She fought to keep down the bad things it resurrected in her until her chest and throat burned and ached from the pressure.
“Chaos please, answer me.”
She sat there trembling, palms on both walls as her entire body shook with the effort to hold her mind and body together. She needed to answer him but if she opened her mouth it would explode out of her.
She lost the battle and a long sob wrenched free.
The bathroom door banged open and the shower curtain yanked aside. But Chaos couldn’t move, she could only sit there, head too heavy to lift, bracing her hands against the wall. If she let go, everything would crash in on her. All of it.
“I got you,” he said, putting strong arms around her body.
The feel of power in his
firm embrace and those three words tore her soul asunder in one second. And all the things that could never reach her, never touch her, suddenly speared her through and through. The sobs came like resurrected ghosts, screaming their secrets. Broken! they all screamed. Torn! Burned! Tortured! Wave after wave of buried tragedy that wasn’t hers and was, raged out of her.
And just beyond all this, she felt it. The looming wrath of the Order. She had failed, ultimately the fault would be on her no matter who was responsible. She’d take the blame as she always did. The Redemptrix Vessel was the medium between the sacred and desecrated. And not only had she failed Master, she’d failed the queen, and the Order. And that didn’t come without penalty. Rights would have to be strictly wronged before the planned restitution could continue. She was sure of that.
Chapter Eight
Solomon had never experienced such torture while this woman released such vile trauma. All he could think was what in God’s name has this woman been through?
The amount of devastation in her soul-wrenching sobs would haunt his days and nights forever. He’d never not feel them or hear them. Ever. He could only hold on to her tight, uselessly shhhing, shhhing, over and over as the unfixable suffocated them both.
Finally, her screaming sobs reduced to pitiful wails that came on every jagged breath that jerked her body until she literally passed out on him.
Solomon turned off the shower with one hand and yanked a towel from the bar behind him. Covering her while careful not to look, he lifted her in his arms and carried her slowly to the bed. When he tried to lay her down, her arms became iron bands around his neck, forcing him to lay with her. Shoving the blanket between her naked body and him, he adjusted her until she lay comfortably in his arms. Pulling the light quilt from the foot of the bed, he managed to get her covered entirely.
When he was halfway comfortable himself, he took several deep breaths trying to wrap his mind around what was happening and what to do about it. There he was, lying in his bed with a complete stranger involved in some horrific shit. And he realized that there was something not right about her. He wasn’t sure what yet but her “I’m normal you know” was when it hit him. She wasn’t normal. But what was wrong with her was the question? She didn’t seem mentally challenged. But psychotic was becoming a probable diagnosis at least in some degree. The shit that went down in the bathroom made it crystal clear that the trauma was deeper than this one horrific event.