A/N: I sincerely hope you enjoy this story I have been working on for an extremely long time. It's something I hold very dear to me. Have a go 3
Moving into a new place always seemed so daunting, seeing as this is the first time I'd ever done so. This place was something I could get used to though. The tall trees, the immense amount of greenery, the low valleys accompanied by crystal water lakes. It was heaven on earth it seemed, especially coming from the suburbs of smog-filled Los Angeles; or should I say, drug-filled.
That was the reason I was there in the first place. Addiction was a mother, and I'd fallen into it like a baby to that mother's teat. Cocaine, to be exact. Was never into any of the super hard stuff, but then again, cocaine fell under that category, didn't it?
I had moved into the small, yet remote lands of Hope County, Montana, where an old friend of mine used to come up for her vacations throughout the year. She'd owned a cabin up there in a small town called Fall's End, and preferred that I stay there until I get clean. Great plan, sister. It definitely didn't help that one of the only buildings in that tiny place was a bar, but alcohol wasn't the problem.
It's only been a few days since I've been here, trying to settle myself in and get my mind off the constant feeling of depression from withdrawal. A drink sounded like the perfect recipe for healing, so I locked up the cabin and hopped in the truck she'd loaned me for my stay.
The music that came on the radio was different today, sounding like some kind of church choir gospel. Then I realized that's exactly what it was. Their voices were quite pleasant as they sang about something called "Eden's Gate," but I didn't pay too much attention to the words; my mind was on getting rid of the sick feeling that rattled my head every time a rock was ran over.
I pulled up to the Spread Eagle bar, laughing at the moment I saw that name, and switched off the choir music that had been playing. A couple of people outside smoking cigarettes looked increasingly disgusted as I made my way into the bar. Maybe they weren't into gospel music, or whatever the hell that was.
"What'll you have honey?" a sweet but strong looking blonde woman offered as she was cleaning a recently used glass behind the counter. She looked at me a little longer than usual, probably noticing I'd been the first non-local she'd seen. This place was small, and Syd knew that; another failsafe to make sure I get completely clean. "Safe to say you're new around here?"
"Very," I smiled a small smile with the corners of my lips, pained from the shoots of anxiety that pulsed from the headache that had begun to form. "Can I just get a double-shot whiskey, neat?"
As the woman poured the glass and set it down, I immediately tossed the contents down my throat, motioning for another. The warmth of the brown liquid calmed my nerves almost instantly. Thankfully, getting addicted to downers was never the problem, because god damn, did they help. I chucked down the second glass she'd given me and motioned for another, causing a raised eyebrow to form on her face.
"Names Abbaraine," I spoke while catching my breath from the impending panic attack that had finally subsided, "Abbaraine Parker, but you can call me Abby."
She smiled at that, seeing as she was probably used to people introducing themselves at bars out here in these towns. Bars in Los Angeles never cared about your name, as long as you were able to tip. I held a hand out for her to shake and she took it with that same smile.
"Mary May," she replied with a firm grip. This social environment with everyone talking to each other with such ferocious genuine welcomes, it was something I could probably get used to. Life had been lonely, partly the reason for the drug use as one may expect. "You're Syd's friend, right? She told me a bit about you."
My heart fluttered at that, knowing full well there was definitely some kind of hidden mistrust behind those eyes. My social skills had been through the process of evolving back into something that was considered appropriate, back to the old me, as Syd once said. "Yes, ma'am. Good things, I hope. There's a lot of hope here in this county, exactly where she thought I'd be best put."
It was a bad joke, and neither of us laughed at it. What we did both laugh at was exactly how terrible it was. It quickly ended, though, as Mary May's face fell into a melancholy grin as she worked her way to serve another man at the end of the bar. Was it really that bad? I almost wanted to apologize as she walked over to me to pour a beer for him from the tap.
"Syd hasn't been here for a while," she started, her face falling grimly. "There hasn't been much hope to go around lately… Our town's being ripped to pieces, my daddy being one of its victims."
She walked back over to the man with a solemn look that had now matched his as he overheard her words to me. Whatever it was that's going on here, Syd definitely didn't know, because I was sent here with the promise of being clean due to the simple fact of how peaceful this place was. All of her stories she'd told me about how she'd go fishing at the creeks with her grandparents, go hunting for elk and deer, and come to Fall's End for a drink to celebrate. The simple life, at least, that's what I thought.
"What's going on, if you don't mind me asking?" I squeaked through another sip of liquor. Mary May looked over to me from her place with the man at the edge of the bar as he began to gather himself up from the stool and begin heading out. He shot the woman a small goodbye and made his way through the door. She breathed in a deep sigh as she walked over towards me once more.
"There's been… Somewhat of a," she paused between words,"… A takeover, as one would call it. Crazy group of cultists came here and started buying up the land, taking people's businesses…"
She trailed off into her words, as though she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell me the next part of her sentence, but I urged her with a bump to the elbow.
"Taking people," she finished. My eyes went wide with disbelief, I almost laughed. I asked her to pour another drink for me, which probably wasn't the greatest idea since I'd been feeling the shots I'd taken before.
"And who exactly are these people?" I asked rather sarcastically. I noticed the annoyed look that bestowed itself upon her face, but she still responded.
"Call themselves the Project at Eden's Gate, Peggies we call 'em," she poured, "Following a guy that calls himself 'the Father,' Joseph Seed, acting like some kind of prophet. He's got his two brothers and 'little sister' running the county now, John being the one we're so blessed to have running Fall's End." She sneered when she said his name, almost overpouring my drink, which I didn't mind.
"And they're what, killing people?" I scoffed, "They just sound like some crazy cultists that are probably just trying to build a commune." I drank the over-poured shot that sat before me and slightly slammed it against the wooden bar. Mary May didn't look too pleased. "Then again, I have no idea what you've been through, or any of the people here for that matter. I just moved here… For intentions you may know. Please forgive me, I'm just trying to laugh this off."
"Well, honey, you're not gonna be able to do that with this one," she took the glass from me with a warning look in her eye. "Laughing this thing off will probably get you killed."
This all felt too insane, too weird, I had to get up and smoke a cigarette, because I've clearly overstepped my boundaries. I apologized once more to the lady, put what I owed on the counter, and went on my way, seeing as a simple trip to get a little buzzed turned into a warning from the apocalypse that's become my life.
The shaking stopped, and the liquor coursed through my veins for the most calming effect. It changed from night and day within what seemed like minutes, not being nearly sober for that matter. The bar began to close up behind me as I heard the doors lock and a goodbye hail itself through the window from Mary May. She was nice, but she was scared of something, and that brought that strength I'd seen behind those eyes of hers.
"You'd best be going home now, sweetheart," she called from the window. "I'm just looking out for you, alright? You can believe me or not, but if I was you, I'd be bolting home and locking the doors."
I'm not sure if it was the alcohol that was fueling my fire, but I kept it dim, waving back at her with a sure smile.
"Once I'm finished with this," I held up my cigarette, "Syd never liked the smell sticking in her car."
Mary May looked worried, shaking her head slightly and looking down, but sighed and waved me off again. She closed the windows and I could hear the bolt locks of each one. I took a look up at the Montana night sky, and there was definitely nothing else like it; at least, nothing like I've seen before. Syd was right; it was calming, peaceful, and I'd seen more stars than I think I ever had in my entire life. Something about it was more calming than the cigarette in my hand. I took a seat at one of the stools that sat itself outside, inhaled, and exhaled. That's when I heard voices.
At first, they sounded like whispers, and the liquid courage within me decided to brush it off. But the whispers turned to full-fledged conversations, one of them being about a girl sitting at the Spread Eagle. Oh god, maybe she was right—
"Well, hello there, little one," a charming voice rang through my ears from behind me. I froze instantly, but my courageous curiosity bolted through the doors that were my mouth.
"Do I look very little to you?" I smiled through scared teeth. I turned around to see the voice had belonged to a very well-dressed man with dark slicked back hair that made his blue eyes pop, while the other voices must have belonged to the two men with rifles standing behind him. This is what Mary May must have been talking about. The liquor was coming in handy at the moment, trying to not show how deeply afraid I was. "I'm sorry, I—"
"Shhh, don't worry about it," he started towards me, "I can see how this can be a bit… Unsettling. I'm John." He reached out his hand to shake, and I couldn't help but gaze upon the tattoos that adorned his arms. Religious ones seemed to take up most of the designs, but others symbolized something of a law background, like the scales in between his thumb and index fingers.
"John Seed, I assume?" I replied as I stood up from my seat and took his hand in mine. It was surprisingly soft, but then again, anything felt warm through the tingle of the liquor that was beginning to consume me like anxiety.
"And you must be the newcomer I've heard so much about," he replied. I had no idea my presence was being tossed around, let alone even being known among the locals here. Seems like Syd really took the liberty of getting my me out to them so there was absolutely no way that I'd fall into addiction again. "Abbaraine Parker, is it?"
Thanks to the liquor once more, I smiled at the handsome man's gesture, when I'd usually question the fact that he'd known my name before I'd even introduced myself. Then again, the rifles had proved enough of an intimidation to not ask any questions. The part of my life Syd chose not to talk about seemed to have slipped in between the warnings and hopeful wishes of sobriety, so I put it to the test.
"Agent Parker, actually," I replied as I adjusted myself into a pose that I was very used to, but the lack of use proved to show within the struggle of trying to push my chest out and plant my feet firmly. Damn, that whiskey was good. "Nice to meet you, John. I've heard quite a bit about you, as well."
At those words, John's guards tightened their grips around their rifles, causing me to stagger backwards a little bit. It wasn't something that I hadn't been through before during my years of law enforcement, but being without a firearm was something I was still getting used to. After being an officer of the law, a gun becomes a part of you; but sadly, due to poor life choices, I was stuck in one hell of an awkward situation that was dangerous, without the confidence of a true defense.
"Woah, woah woah…" I trailed while resting my hands on my hips, trying to keep my vision straight. God damnit, Abby, get it together. "Ex-law enforcement, came here to your beautiful county to get sober, thanks to a good friend of mine."
I began to feel a deep sickness in the pit of my stomach among the effort of trying to act as cordial and normal as possible. The alcohol was finally getting to my head, and my vision was becoming more and more distorted by the second. Toppling over, I felt a strong hand catch me by my abdomen, saving me from falling on my face in a most embarrassing manner. I heard John chuckle as he lifted me back up right.
"Doesn't seem like it's going so well," he laughed slightly. I smiled as I was lifted up completely. My speech was beginning to slur at the worst possible time, but I knew I had to keep my guard up as best as possible; although, that was probably much more than I could ask of my body right now.
"You know, I was thinking the same thing," I smirked through a nervous laugh. I had no idea where this was going to lead to, but in that moment, I didn't give a damn. "Then again, alcohol was never the problem."
John lifted me back upright, stumbling while trying to poorly reset my footing. He could clearly tell that I was inebriated, but what was a girl to do? They did call it liquid courage for a reason… right?
"I could offer you all the help you could possibly imagine," he started, putting his hand behind my back motioning for me to sit back down onto the stool. "I've only heard so little about you, and I feel like we've met at this very moment for a reason."
I thought about his words for a moment, really thinking about how logical his sentence actually seemed. Only minutes before, Mary May had been giving me whatever background on their town within minutes; and within those minutes, John Seed's name wasn't presented in the most positive fashion. Whatever law-enforcement instincts still stirred within my body decided to take its chances, up against a potential terrorist that leeched among innocent civilians.
But then again, did I really know the man?
"And what kind of help would that be?" I quietly asked among the chaos that fought a silent war within my mind. When it really came down to it, I was here to get sober so I could get back, to forget about the partying and drowning myself with the substances that I took at any given moment so I can get back, and really, get my self back. Did it really matter how I did it? Morally, my heart beat told it all, but my brain held all the doubt in the world. "I'm not exactly sure you know what you're dealing with, here. No offense, of course."
John scoffed at my last remark with a genuine smile. I wasn't sure whether it was a smile of sincere hilarity or one of sarcasm, but his hand found itself holding mine within the warmest embrace. Our fingers intertwined, our scars on the outsides of our hands shining amidst the moonlight that now graced our presence. Within the time we'd sat together, I'd barely noticed that his bodyguards had taken leave elsewhere, leaving the two of us alone, sat in front of neon lights mixing with the bright whites and blues of the stars above. I looked up to him with pleading eyes that involuntarily brought themselves to my face because of my bubbling loneliness. His touch felt so sincere, willing… Listening. Which was more than I could say for anyone that'd graced themselves within my life within the past several months, or even the past year.
"I see within your eyes… You're so pained," he started, "So full of sorrow. Full of readiness to move on to what you're truly meant to be." His grip around my hand grew tighter with his words, and his blue hues under the moonlight seemed so heavenly, "I know so deeply of that pain you feel within you, sweet heart. It is something you and I share on levels that may not seem apparent to you now."
After those words, his head bowed down so sadly, so grimly. Within my grasp, within that moment, I held his hand tighter, hoping for an explanation to make its way out of his mouth soon.
That's when the liquor really decided to betray me.
My mind began to flood with memories of my past, the friends I'd had, the alleyways I'd used to streak for a quick fix, the bars I'd used to beg for the leftover drinks left on the tables to even me out; my heart began to break into a million pieces, before a man I had barely just met.
"I'm not one to speak my mind among those that deserve my utmost clarity and conscience," I started, John's figure splitting into two before my eyes. "But I am not one that deserves any saving from anyone but myself. This whole thing, this personality I've adopted… This addiction I've brought upon myself, its only mine to fix, only mine to absolve.
"I had the world within my hands, and I lost it. Became everything I'd wanted to be within the best years of my life. I had my friends, my family, my career… Absolutely everything I could have ever wanted. But I threw it away within seconds. Because I decided that a little amount of evidence missing from the drug lockers was okay, because I decided that I could write off the amounts of contraband we confiscated would be alright, because I said that I would be just fine, it's just one more line. I threw away my life, John, I wouldn't expect you, or anyone for that matter, to understand that, but I would believe that you would think I'd have to atone for this on my own mandate."
The man seemed as though none of my words phased him, his eyes never breaking the contact we'd created between each other. I looked away in embarrassment, the pebbles on the floor serving to be my friends at that moment of weakness. The alcohol was still pulsing strong, and the speech I'd just given was purely fueled by it. Whether he'd known it or not, his grip on my hand never faltered, and neither had his blue gaze from my green.
"That has never been an issue, I can assure you that," he smiled such a sweet smile, feeding into my moment of weakness. I cut him off there quite rudely.
"And what makes a drug addict someone that those can treat so…" I trailed into my words, fumbling within slurs that John could clearly see. "What makes me so special? Because I decided that drugs were better than the world around me?"
"That's exactly where you get it wrong, Abbaraine," he said sternly, but calmly, "You did not choose that lifestyle, that lifestyle found its way to you. It sought you out among the world, cursing you to believe such a thing. But," he gripped both my hands now, causing me to lift my chin so I'd lock eyes with him once more. "God has brought you here to me, so you could get well, so your sins can be atoned for. That is truly the first step towards achieving your goal, isn't it?"
I dwelled on the words that'd just entered their way into my brain, my anxiety trying to take ahold amidst the alcohol. He was right, respectively, as the twelve steps towards recovery required one to first understand that your addiction is not under your control, that it was never under your control. And I definitely felt as though control was a foreign entity.
"I guess you're right."
That's when my vision failed, and the world turned black around me.
1 Year Earlier
"Fuck."
My eyes were pretty much closed, and the bottle in my hand had about a shot left. The baggie to my right had only the bitter leftover crumbs of cocaine, knowing full well that I did that entire bag in no less than an hour. They say a half gram is great for the entire night, to get those little spurts of energy back after having one too many, just so you can have one too many more. But then, you just want more of that almighty white powder to keep that godly feeling up.
I lifted myself off my kitchen floor in a frantic search for more, shoving the open bottle of liquor to the side of me, letting the small amount of what was left of its contents pour out onto the counter. Scrambling through even the most unused droors, I begged for more of the stuff, to keep up this feeling, to mask my undying depression and loneliness that overcame me like a disease. But that wasn't the disease that did me in, and I realized that as it was laughing in my face.
The baggie I'd had in my hand was ripped apart and licked and snorted, not leaving even the smallest trace left of the drug, and falling hard on my living room floor. The TV was on, mumbling to itself amidst a crap infomercial broadcast. Looks like Lord of the Rings was over, all three movies…
My body began to shut down, and my brain felt as though it was being fried on the highest heat atop a stove. That's when my nose started to bleed, with no end in sight. The last thing I remember is coming to terms with death, eradicating that fear that bubbled up for so long inside of me. The drugs and alcohol were my salvation, at that moment. I'd fucked up most everything in my life: my family hated me, my friends couldn't bear to deal with my incessant troubles, any kind of love life not even in question, and it was all for such expendable wants that turned into needs.
"I'm sorry," was all my mouth could speak, until I faded into the voice of death that called out to me.
"We'll meet again…"
My vision began to come back to my eyes, painted with blotches of darkened colors whilst hearing a very familiar song ringing through my ears.
"Don't know where, I don't know when…"
"But I know we'll meet again some sunny day," my voice chimed in subconsciously as I felt my throat vibrate amidst the notes I had tried to hit, only to realize my hands were bound.
"Wh-What," I began to struggle with the ropes that began to burn against my skin. The dimmed lights glowed with a red tint that seemed to keep its warmth within the liquid that drenched my skin. What the fuck was going on? The last thing I remember was seeing the sweetness of that man named John that told me my life was going to be okay, that my decisions were nothing but sins pultruding through my soul due to the constant temptations that filled my body day after day, second after second.
"Wh-Where…" I started, "Where am I?" My voice peaked through its original volume and I started to take a clear look at my surroundings, only to be placed within sheer fear and turmoil. My hands were bleeding, as well as my ankles, which dug against the small strings that drove themselves against my flesh. Burgundy fled it's way among my white shoes to form a small puddle beneath my feet. The pain was numb.
"Ahhh… She's awake," a familiar voice shone itself amidst the blur. The orange and red reflections of the lights took hold of my mind within a matter of seconds, but I wasn't sure what my mind was possibly thinking at those exact moments. If anything, I was ready to let go, to—
"Are you ready to really atone for your sins, Abbaraine?" John Seed's voice pierced me like a shooting arrow. It was beautiful, to feel through the numbed pain that was pulsing through me, or maybe that was the hell that was the growing headache slowly taking over my entire body. The smell of blood and iron filled my nostrils with a slightly comforting feeling, but as my vision finally rid itself of any misfocus, John's face was looming over me with a sinister look.
"Wh-Why am I tied up, John?" I shakily asked, trying to move my arms and legs with no avail, only causing more pain to shoot through my limbs. My heart beat was quickening to a deadly thump that filled my chest with a tension that burned. "What the hell is going on?"
The blue-eyed man smiled wickedly as he laid his hand gently on my thigh, "This is what we were talking about, Abbaraine; your path to true sobriety. I told you, you were going to be helped more than you could possibly imagine, or do you not remember our little chat? That would hurt my feelings if you didn't!"
Something had changed within his eyes that I didn't see before, something quite dark and menacing. He couldn't seem to rip away his gaze from perusing its way up and down my bound form. The discomfort was growing with every second, especially when he stood up abruptly from his place in front of me. Whistling the same tune from earlier, he decided that my answer wasn't needed at the moment, and rummaged through a bleak looking tool box amidst a rather lowly wooden work bench that adorned hung pieces of something I just couldn't make out from my position. Whatever he was looking for, it didn't seem good.
"John, I remember," I spoke, trying to disguise the growing fear with sympathy, "You said you were going to help me atone, right? And how do you suppose you do that? Is this some kind of tough love thing, because if it is, I've done it all!"
I slightly shouted towards the end of my spiel with nervousness, as he didn't make any move to show that he'd heard me. The clinking of whatever objects were within his tool box ceased, and he quickly turned out, revealing what he'd been searching for. The tip of a large screw driver glinted in the ominous light, and John's face held a smirk that bestowed a copious amount of chills up and down my spine.
Mary May was right, these people… They weren't a fucking joke. And I fell right at the butt of it.
"Fuck," I whispered under my breath as quietly as I could, but somehow, he'd heard me.
"Tsk, tsk, sweet heart, I thought you had a better mouth on you than that," he scoffed, the thumping of his boots against the creaky floorboards booming through the room. He took his place in front of me once more on a rolling stool, staring deeply within my eyes again. I felt tears start to well up as I got a better look as the screw driver-turned-knife made itself clearly apparent to me. No matter the fear, I kept as much composure as I possibly could. "You must rid yourself of all of your sins, even that mouth of yours. You didn't think just getting sober would do the trick, would you?"
There was a crazy look in his eyes, the ones I'd seen before when I'd apprehend a homicide suspect; but this time, I was the one being apprehended. I spoke up.
"I-I, uh… I didn't think about it that—"
That's when he stabbed the tip of that forsaken screwdriver clean into my thigh. My mouth hung agape at the smile that kept itself strewn upon his face, barely being able to scream from the pain. Small squeaks released themselves before he pulled it out, letting out a cry of pure agony. He still didn't move a muscle.
"I really don't want to have to scrub your soul harder than I have to, Abbaraine," he glumly muttered, the smile beginning to fade. I could tell he was beginning to really take this seriously, and he wanted me to as well. Although, I really wasn't quite sure where this was all going, so I decided to keep playing along.
"I know, I'm sorry, sir," I let those words leave my lips with everything but agony within my tone, trying to hold in the immense amount of anger and pain that was welling up within myself. He took advantage of me, my vulnerable drunken heart, and bound it in rope on a computer chair. "Please… Just, please, don't hurt me. I promise I'll, uh, atone. Yeah, atone, that's it."
He looked at me skeptically with only a glint of happiness in his eyes upon hearing my statement, but knowing to tip-toe around egg shells made of mistrust. Clearly my words continuously held no meaning to him, and he took another jab at my thigh. The warmth of my blood oozing from the stuck rod overwhelmed my body with a cool sweat that drenched me. That's when he spoke up once more.
"Now that I've really got your attention," he dripped venomously, he turned on a small lamp that sat next to the both of us, pulling out what looked to be a tattoo gun. "The next step is to figure out what sin it is that really controls your mind."
This was all becoming too much, causing my primal instincts to kick in almost the instant he removed himself from his place in front of me. Now was my chance, seeing as the longer-than-usual screwdriver was still deeply pultruding from my left thigh. I lowered my head to grab it with my teeth as hard as I could to get the best possible grip, only to fail miserably. The tinkling of the metal against the floor quickened each heartbeat.
"Hm, seems I can't leave you alone for even a second," he chuckled under his breath, but there was an annoyance in his tone. "I thought you wanted help, Abbaraine. It doesn't seem to be that way."
I looked throughout every crevice and corner of my mind, but everywhere turned up a harsh, dark blank. Is this how I was going to pay for all of my mistakes, my terrible decisions, my alienated life I'd brought upon myself for so many years? Some would say that I was extremely deserving of this, that I should be betrothed no other fitting punishment like the one that loomed itself over me with the most beautiful blue eyes; but I still wanted to try. Try to continue on the path of becoming the better person I'd promised myself I'd be. But there was something dark and sinister that underlaid itself beneath the bright, clean figure that was presented, there was something more beyond this sobriety cure that caused a more than unpleasant feeling to fuel itself within the pit of my stomach.
"I-I'm sorry, John," I started shakily, not knowing what the next words were going to be, "I really never understood how insubordinate I could be. You'd thought I'd have learned—"
"Ah, there it is!" he almost squealed from his work bench, his eyes widened as though he'd seen the biggest affirmation of his life. "'You'd thought I'd have learned,' she says. That's truly the first step of atonement. You've realized your wrongs, and how much they've clouded your judgement. Abbaraine… You are a beautiful soul beyond compare, all you need now is to be spared from the potential collapse that will cripple this entire world in an instant."
My willingness to fight back dwindled to a crisp as this man continuously showed his eagerness to continue the ritual that took place in front of me. It was me, actually, and I was taking every brunt end of the stick.
"I'm sorry, John, I should be better… I know better, and I will be better," I started under a harshened breath. My chest heaved with exhaustion under each word, but they were not for naught. Only moments later, my consciousness escaped me within seconds as his boot heels clicked against the concrete floors, only to echo throughout the decrepit room.
I just wanted to be free.
1 Year Earlier
The next morning, I'd awoken from my night of binging. My phone alarm was all but going off, seeing as I'd slept through three snooze warnings and the original time set. The ungodly lights seemed to flood themselves throughout my lonely apartment, only to highlight the previous night's mistakes that overwhelmed themselves all over. I shielded my eyes and my throbbing head from the almost instant shock of the brightness. My arms and legs felt almost numb, completely immobile from the shenanigans I'd put it through the night before, and I was definitely paying for it now.
Empty cocaine baggies strewn themselves among my living room and kitchen floor unforgivably as I stepped my way to my water filtered refrigerator. My heart sunk into that same floor, absorbing the terrible thoughts and feelings that began to overcome my entire body with a numbing sense of denial. It was only last night, how much worse could it be? Oh, yeah, last night had also been two nights ago, and the five nights before that, and so on…
Eyes that usually held a sense of confidence and clarity held nothing but regret and pity, for myself. I was going to want this again, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that it would be the last time. It was an ongoing vicious cycle of meaningless justifications and brash decisions. My job was dwindling to a crisp, along with my dignity.
From what seemed like completely out of nowhere, my ringtone sounded much louder than it usually did. I jumped over with slight reluctance as I was still barely trying to stand up straight. It was Syd. With shaky fingers, I answered the call with a knot in my throat.
"Hey, Syd," I greeted, my groggy voice clearly gave me away.
"Please don't tell me you just woke up, Abby," she sighed heavily, knowing full well what events transpired the night before. "God damnit, this has to stop!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," shrugging off her statement, my empathy was shielded with each word. "I'm fine, Syd." Lying through my teeth had become nature.
"Don't you fucking bullshit me, Abby," Syd's voice trailed off with venomous disappointment, causing my heart to sink even further than it already had. Her next words were chosen carefully. "I'm not letting you do this anymore, I can't do this anymore. I'm getting you fucking clean."
My mind was continuously fogged as I slumped on the unmade couch in my living room, not really realizing what she'd said, and just how serious she had been. But the question that made itself rung was one that still had a real disconnection.
"And how do you suppose you do that?"
My eyes fluttered open to grace themselves with new surroundings consisting of blank, grey walls, a barely livable cot, and a rusted bucket that set themselves in the far corner. Trying to move my arms, I groaned with a pain that was unfamiliar to me. Ropes were one thing, but…
"Chains…?"
The soft jingles of the strips of metal bore themselves within my wrists with an unrelenting strength that seemed to rip the fleshy skin around my forearms with each movement. The taste of blood was all I could muster within the dark room. There was a flashing lightbulb above me that began to drive my mind into madness with every second of being awake. What time was it? What day was it?
"What is going on?!"
Screaming at the top of my lungs. My throat gasped for air within each breath of relinquishing my screams with a blood-curdling echo that blossomed throughout the small room. My heart drew short with hope and what little dignity I had left in me. All I could do was ask—
"Why?!"
Suddenly, a familiar voice rang reverently within my ears, causing my whole body to cringe with absolute disgust. This false prophet, this preacher, this mother fucker with a bullshit cause that he's bringing about on these innocent people… Who the fuck did this guy think he was? If it was anything I learned from law enforcement, it was that giving up was not easy. And I was about to prove that to myself.
"Face me, you evil fuck!"
The door in front of me almost burst open, only to reveal the owner of the loud speaker's voice himself.
"John…" I started, venom dripping with every work leaking themselves out of my mouth. "What the fuck do you think you're doing here? 'Saving me?' I see what Mary May was talking about now—"
He slapped me hard across the face, causing my head to swivel the farthest it could to the left. The blood dripped from my crimsoned mouth to add some rouge to the bleak gray that was the ground below me. My head hung low, trying with all of my might to hold back the immense pain that was slowly building inside. Stomach turning, I looked him in the face once more, but said nothing as my mouth hung agape.
"Yeah, I didn't think so," he smugly shook his head at me from his dominant stature. His eyes were filled with hatred and frustration. I know it hadn't just been my being here that caused that fiery emotion. There were some moments of silence where he seemed to half expect me to say a word, but I sorely betrayed his expectation. "You had so much to say just a few seconds ago, dear…"
I looked up slowly towards the man I had given my trust to, but really, how stupid could I have been? A complete stranger, in a strange land, that I'd only had any sort of thing to go on from a friend of mine who didn't even bother to be here with me to show me the ropes? Was that… Asking too much?
Shaking my head with teared eyes, he turned on his heel and put the other two men outside, standing at the door in front of him. He leaned on the door as if to be in a moment of contemplation, which I didn't mind. I was in one, myself. But my big mouth just couldn't keep itself shut.
"I'm sorry for the disappointment," a breathy remnant of what was once my voice let out in a fade of defeat. My options were tied, along with my arms and legs. It was the karma that presented itself in my nightmares all those years, it was only just beginning to come true.
"I would assume you are as sorry as you can be, Ms. Parker," he groaned with such displeasure that I could feel the rattle of his diaphragm. "After all, you have committed one of the biggest, if not the world of, sins that I could ever account for. Although some may not agree…"
I could sense the growing hostility building within the well-dressed man. A heart beat through my chest seemed to pulsate throughout the entire desolate room, when I tried to lock eyes with a broken man that looked as broken as me. While taking the free moment I had, I really inhaled everything through sober nostrils. This man had every sign of being terribly depressed; unfulfilled, even.
"I will no longer be looking after you, Ms. Parker," he sighed within breaths that seemed to break my heart with each word. He was sending me away, to another hellish place, a place with no hope in sight, as any sign of hope had completely diminished with the environment that I'd had surrounding me. There was nothing left for me here, he said, without saying it at all.
"There's nothing left," I started, "For you to break."
John looked at me with solemn eyes, ones that spoke with fear and damnation that only made the ominous presence darker and darker. It was over in his eyes, I wasn't anything special, at least, not anymore. I had become someone else's problem.
"And where exactly can I go from here, Mr. Seed?" I responded with a croak in my throat.
His blue eyes penetrated my greens within seconds of my asking. And he made his way out the previously locked door, slowly and hesitantly as the timing of each footstep became labored.
"Sadly, it's not for me to decide, little dove…" His voice seemed uneasy, as though something awfully sinister began to take over the room.
My eyes filled with fresh tears, my mind filled with its fair share of frustration and utter confusion, accompanied by his familiarity that so quickly came and left. As he crossed the threshold of the dank room, his hand rested on the iron door for a moment, breathing a heavy sigh before completely exiting. If my chest wasn't already aching from the constant manic breathing my heart ensued upon my body, it was what came next that inched its way towards my full destruction.
"Only you…"
A serene and familiar voice filled my ears with comfort at first, breathing in the notes that exerted themselves through my eardrums and into my panic-filled body. Until I'd realized something.
"Can make this world seem right…"
The rich vocals of the tune began making its way through my entire being, overbearing me, with my subconscious memories screaming through screens of dissociation and doubt. Memories of my career flood through as though they poured themselves onto the floor, my body not able to contain that which was my life. A childhood torn to pieces, a girl that only wanted control; everything that had made me the person that sat on the cold cement floor of a seeming psychopath. But the song kept yearning for my attention.
"Only you, can make the darkness bright…"
The walls began to blur, along with the entire room around me. John's blue water eyes looked towards me through the small opening with what looked to be sadness, pity, and if I'm correct, a hint of worry. A feeling came over me as his footsteps descended into the hallway, while what sounded like many more ascended towards me. This feeling… It felt so familiar, like a dream that subsided itself within my subconscious that finally let itself out. Suppressed memories now lay strewn on my facial expression as a numbing took over my muscles with each note. I know this, I remember this; the tactical strategy I was taught in my time at the Bureau. Chained hands shook with a fear that I'd never thought I would have to experience. And then I remembered.
"Jacob…"
And my world went black once more.
10 Years Ago, Somewhere in Saudi Arabia
"Hey pup, you alright?"
The blazing sun of the Afghani skies was anything but merciful. The sand that stuck itself within my nostrils was beyond the point of burning, and the blanket on my cot had been thrown onto the floor likely during the pitiful few hours of a sad excuse for sleep. I breathed in deeply through my mouth and exhaled through my nose with a slight pain that teased the beginning of a headache. Along with the terrible smell of lack of hygiene and nearby latrines.
"I'm good, soldier," I responded. I rubbed my eyes with care not to get any more dirt or sand in them than I already had. My darkened camo uniform and black combat boots were still on from the previous night's infiltration mission, adorned with the dried blood of the victims that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Within moments, my heart went from calm and steady to rough and irregular. With another rub to the eyes, I swung my booted feet over the edge of the few inch-thick mattress with a faint slam into the faded ground.
"Doesn't seem like it," the same voice continued with a monotone pitch. "Last night was a bit out of the ordinary, I can understand that."
I turned my focused eyes onto my fellow Army man, Jacob Seed. His red hair gleamed in the sun as he sharpened his combat knife like he always did every morning. My unstable heart calmed itself within just a few moments upon seeing his routine status just outside our tent. Sighing deeply, no response mustered itself into my beyond overly exhausted brain. I only shook my head slightly and tried to keep a blank smile on my face.
"Sorry, bud," I brought myself up from my cot and lifted the tarps away to revel an almost blinding sunshine grace my entire presence. Finally focusing the light, my eyes found their way to the shrieking sounds of Jacob's knife again against the dulled army-issued sharpener. "I'm a bit tougher than I look."
Stumbling on my footing with my still awakening body came a strong hand that brought me back to life. My eyebrows shifted from one expression to the next, the last being one of concern.
"Are you alright, soldier?" I groggily spoke through tired vocal chords. I placed my hands on my hips and thrust forward in an increasingly long stretch accompanied by an overly stressed yawn. Modesty was essentially the best honesty, but I always broke that rule. "I'm the one covered in blood you know."
A deadly silence fell upon the both of us in the small seclusion of foreign desert we called home. My green hues stared upon the almost empty fort covered in tanned sands and emptied hearts once filled with hope. We'd started with 45, now we'd had 3. A marksman, member from bomb squad, and a rookie spec-ops soldier. I'd never welcomed another fifteen minutes sleep so much in my entire life, especially a particular sleep that lasted forever. But that didn't exist, and weakness didn't exist; you were strong.
"Damnit, Jacob, you're not fucking helping," Allen Miller's voice rang through my sore eardrums from sleeping on them wrong. His voice was a breath of fresh air.
"Fuck you, Miller," I chimed after his already failed defense strategy. I'd always had great love and respect for the man, especially a person of his expertise. I smiled at him with the most genuine smile I'd given within the 10 months of being stationed in this godforsaken hellhole. He smiled back with his usual dopey smile of gratitude, while Jacob sat away from us near our tent. I made my way over to Miller with a consistent step that caught myself off-guard. "Seems like I'm doin' the best out of everyone today, huh?"
"At least I'm the only one that's trying to fix up the damn place while you both are fucking around!" his voice raised an octave which woke me up a bit more from my sleepy state. "I don't know if you guys remember, but we're fighting a goddamn war here."
My heart dropped, but my face kept the sincere smile that brought itself visible to the sweet man in front of me. His naïve attitude gave me life, a sense of being, even just the smallest something to look forward to; but I always had the screaming voice in the back of my head that the world was not what it seemed.
"I think we realize that," I muttered under my breath, taking a seat next to whatever was left of our infantry. The few amounts of guns left set a small amount of shock into my system, along with the memories of last night's infiltration to rampage their way through my mind. Something didn't seem right.
"Wait, guys," I started, holding an AK-47 in my hand with no magazine, along with the noticing of all the weapons missing their ammo. "Where are the clips for these?"
They both seemed to have stopped within the essence of time, Jacob receding the sharpening of his knife and Miller stopping in his tracks. Both of them let out under a frivolous breath, "What?"
That's when I heard the most blood-curdling scream my ears have ever had the displeasure of hearing. Running towards Jacob and Miller with all my might whilst holding the black metal of the useless gun against me, I stood between the two within our pitiful excuse of a fort. The screams ended, but the clinks and clanks of a nearby grenades and bullets made themselves known as I crouched between the two men that'd become my friends. A once calmed heart once more became unsteady, and I looked into Jacob's eyes to see the fear that matched mine.
"I-"
It wasn't long until the entire fort was engorged in flames, and my legs lead me as deep into the Saudi Arabian desert then I'd possibly known.
"Only you…
"Can make the world seem right…"
My head hurt again with the same pitiful throb that exerted itself throughout my entire brain. It was as though something crawled their way through every crevice and curve that was me, and it hurt. Terribly. Vision dark with nothing ahead of me, eyes continued to deceive me for the past two times that I'd been completely forced to let my guard down.
"Only, you…"
That song, that serene and lovely song. It romanced my solemn heart that was now black as coal with sparks of flames that peppered themselves within my numbed body. Although, as my head began to flutter with subconscious memories that filled my entire being, that heart stopped itself almost completely.
It had been ten years now, since that day. That terrifying, unforgiving day that continued to rule over my soul like an emperor to his flock; the cool grains of dirt rubbing themselves against my sore, bloodied palms began to bring me back to reality amidst the overwhelming memories. The smells entrenched my nose with the rancid smell of old, decaying corpses. That's when the music finally stopped.
"Looks like someone's finally awake."
That voice pierced me like an iron arrow that went all the way through my spine. A voice that embedded itself into my mind without warning, without question. It was almost nostalgic, hearing that voice. Could it possibly be…
"Jacob?"
A chuckle escaped that familiar voice's lips as heavy footsteps made their way towards my motionless figure. Chains encircled my wrists and ankles with that same burning feeling that engulfed them before. My vision finally come to me with full force, showing me the face that belonged to that familiar voice. I was right.
"It really is you," I murmured under thick breaths of exhaustion. The smell of blood began to nauseate me within seconds, gagging almost directly after I'd spoken. Feeling the cool, outdoor grounds of the natural world brought me back to whatever sanity I had left that remembered any feelings of comfort. That's when I finally took in the face that I hadn't graced with my eyes since that fateful day in the foreign sand.
"Yeah, Sergeant Parker," he started, leaning into the bars of the cage that seemed to surround me. "It's me."
Throat caught between my heart and voice box, I attempted to give a response, only mustering one that was quite pitiful. A small grunt of surprise left my lips in a starstruck gaze of disbelief.
"How the feds treat you these days?" he began to smile slightly with each word. My chest was caught in that same tight knot. "Doesn't look like you've been doin' too good; I mean, look at you."
Eyes kept wide, our blues and greens met in a whirlwind of unsolved problems and unkept promises.
"It's good to see you, Abbaraine," he smirked with each syllable that made my nausea even stronger. His face was covered in scarred burns and freckled specks of blood, I unknowing whose it could've been seeing as he had no wounds. His eyes, though… They looked the same, only with much more pain that I'd ever seen. His extensive scars hung themselves all over every part of his exposed skin, especially his arms, being adorned with burns that seemed like an all too familiar sight, only without the bandages I'd once seen wrapping them tightly. "Oh, hah, that's right. You probably don't recognize me after, well… You know."
Breathing became labored within seconds of realizing just exactly what was happening.
"Are you with these lunatics?" I let out instinctively through chapped lips. "You're… You're kidding, right?"
He only laughed more with each word, almost hysterically at that. His cackle sent shivers up and down my entirety. Everything that was happening within the last 24 hours was bringing me along for the rollercoaster ride of a lifetime, my lifetime, one that's been filled endlessly with the best and worst of life; a various range of bullshit, to be exact. If there was a woman named Karma. She'd be watching me right now, laughing that ominous cackle just as Jacob had adorned. As if losing my mind trying to get clean wasn't enough, I was being put to the ultimate test of sanity, being confronted with quite possibly my biggest regret that trumped all the thousands of dollars spent on grams of cocaine, alcohol, and everything else.
God damnit, Syd. Did you know about this?
"Now, I know what you're thinkin', Parker," he began to make a perimeter around what appeared to me a zoo animal cage, filthy with dried browned blood and the mixtures of shit and rot. To not show weakness, I swallowed the wretch that quickly snuck its way into my mouth. "Ho-ly shit, right? I mean, that's what I would be thinking if I was you. Especially in a fucked up place like this."
"It's been a long time, Lieutenant," I tried my best to play along with his antic, although I wasn't exactly sure what the motive of any of this was. Clearly being kidnapped, yeah, but what was the endgame? I figured I'd try to get the answer out of him, pry into some dreams and memories that we both knew had been long buried beneath the sands of Qatar. "Looks like you don't look too good, either. 'I mean, look at you.'"
The sarcasm in my voice matched his earlier tone, only being rewarded with a furrowed brow and that simple unreadable smirk. Maybe he might've been expecting that, but maybe I was already expecting it as well. I wasn't exactly sure where all of this was going, but the look in his eyes gave me every indication that none of this was going well.
"Look, Jacob—"
"I don't need to hear anything from you, pup," Jacob exerted through his huffing stature. He swiftly flipped his knife between his fingers like we used to do when we were deployed. Seemingly beginning to immerse himself into his thoughts, I studied his face and movements with explicit detail, looking for the subconscious tells of micro expressions that revealed themselves within the furrow of his brow and the slight curve of his smile. He knew this was something I was known for in the field, seeing as I was recruited from a list of special agents from the FBI to aid in certain tactical missions that concerned Al-Qaeda.
"You sure about that, sir?" I mumbled between struggled breaths that barely squeezed themselves through my collapsing lungs. My emotions began to stir as I slowly realized more and more that this was someone whom I'd shared some of the most intimate and vulnerable moments with, someone who'd been more than any kind of family than I'd ever had. Hanging my head low with my growing sadness and mourning, I whispered just loud enough under my breath for him to hear; "What happened to you, soldier?"
He shifted uncomfortably in his stance, seemingly losing his focus as his mind began to travel back in time to relive that tormenting moment. His eyes locked with mine deeply in an unbreakable gaze that brought an overwhelming energy that seemed to block out the rest of the waking world. But this didn't last long, as showing emotion was not the way of the true warrior.
"I don't think you're in any position to be asking questions," his demeanor and tone of voice dropped to a more ominous state. Slowly pacing the front of the cage, tattered blue eyes avoided my exhausted and blood shot greens and kept their sight on the ground in front of him. Jacob's chapped lips moved slightly, mouthing a hymn I knew all too well, something that calmed us both in our times of uncertainty. And march to your front like a soldier, Front, front, front like a soldier…
Suddenly, all the voices among the sad excuse for a camp silenced within seconds. The moans and cries of the tortured and the weak ceased within seconds, as the sounds of heavy footsteps made their way towards my cell. The darkness of the night only made the flames of the various torches and poorly lit bulbs surrounding the site to illuminate the horrifying scenes that had provided the enormous bloodstains that drenched the dirt floors. Jacob took on an entirely new disposition and took a stance as if to make way for someone. It wasn't long until a man in a southern style tuxedo and yellow lensed glasses confidently walked up to the bars of my cage.
That was when I could see the eyes of pure evil approaching the iron bars of my imprisonment looking straight into mine. There was something within those blues that even Jacob was afraid of, and it certainly struck uneasiness in my heart. His confidence was something of a priest, a father, someone who had learned the words of the Bible within it's understanding that completely learned the manipulative manner that those with an unenlightened mind could turn against the good of humanity.
"I know you're in pain. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh, hm?" His piercing eyes took hold of me within his words that were once alienated to me. "But you're not the only one to be tested…"
If my heart could sink any further than it already could, it would have, with every word that this godly man had spoken amidst his softly but harshly spoken words that echoed through my mind like an empty cage with high ceilings.
"Did you know that I had a wife?" He gathered while looking through me with his piercing blues. Puling up his seemingly untouched white sleeve, a tattoo slipped between fabric and skin of a beautiful woman with long brown hair and flourished white skin.
"We were pregnant with our first child, and we were just babies ourselves really. I was terrified." The blues that had once showed themselves with pure confidence had now melted within the darkness of sorrow and misery,
"Becoming a father. Mostly about money. She wasn't worried."
My heart was lost among the dulled flames that made up his soul amidst his eyes instead of the fires that bloomed among us.
"She had faith that things were going to work out, she always had faith… And then one say she was going to visit a friend. And there was an accident."
All vocal chords were struck from my body as these words became hesitated but true.
"And the Lord taketh."
There was a pause momentarily, as the man clearly lost himself amidst the memory that soon started to become all too real once more.
"All of a sudden… There was this little pink bundle stuffed with tubes, and they said I had to be strong, because my little girl was going to live. God was looking out for our daughter. And they left me alone in a room with her. I just.. stared… at my daughter, so helpless. All she had was a nobody, from nowhere, with nothing. And in that moment I knew that God was testing me. He was laying out a path before me and all I had to do was choose. And all I had to do was tell. And we prayed together.
"I knew I heard God's plan for me. And I took my fingers and put them on that little plastic tube that was taped to her angelic face and pierced it shut. "Mmm…
"And after a little while, her legs began to kick and kick… and then nothing. Stillness.
"Release.
"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh. Pain. Sacrifice.
"These are all part of his test. Only have to prove that we can serve God… no matter what He asks."
My heart dove into the farthest crevices that my body could hold, as I stared out into the penetrated eyes of my past comrade and fiercest ally. The evil that stood before me was nothing I had ever experienced before. My once closest comrade only held what seemed to be penetrated eyes that emitted bloodshot tears of both sadness and remorse; the latter being meant for the clear wronging of the capture of his comrade that only did everything she could do to save him. Sometimes fire reaches the coldest points of the world with a will that was just as strong as the description of this man's apparent God of whom had taken the innocence of a man to have the strength to not save his blood, but to destroy it.
From that, I knew that I no other choice to save Jacob from this retched trap of a man that embodied the false prophet of new beginnings, of love and forgiveness, of sickness and regret. There was nothing left within my mind that tracked itself back to the drug abusive ex-agent that had put herself in this position.
"You say that we have to serve…" I coughed with dehydration and exhaustion that had taken hold of my body without any notice to the man with the yellow glasses. "We have to serve a God who believes that being a coward is the best possible decision?"
Jacob finally met my gaze after a long pause within his apparent master's speech that only proved to me that I was dealing with a sociopath. His fists clenched with worry while his eyes watered with guilt that I recognized from the battlefield of Qatar. The man with the yellow glasses grabbed my clothing with a force I haven't felt since my commanding officer relieved me from duty. Jacob's tears began to fall onto the dusty ground with regret as his eyes continued to lock eyes with mine with an endless demand for understanding of what his leader had implied. But all I had was this to say—
"Fuck your cowardice," I spat on the lenses of his glasses, "Semper Fidelis."
And my world went black once again.