Chapter 34 - Scarlett
Scarlett
It’s only been two days since Azrael left my house, and all I could do was think. Think about everything that had happened to me since as far back as I could remember. Think about everything they had done to me, everything they had said.
The first beating I had gotten after she died for not remembering the right rules.
My first lashing for accidentally looking into the wrong person’s eyes.
The first time I had to stand in front of the True Congregation and be looked at while those grunts and groans and the sounds of slapping flesh filled the air.
The hatred of the eyes I felt on me every single day. The cruel words of the women who hated me for taking their place or the cruel words from the men who wanted to be the one to make me impure so they received the blessing God had bestowed upon me.
The Good Book preached love and all I had ever felt was cold, evil things, convincing myself that it was love because that’s what they told me.
They told me to listen, and I listened.
They told me to obey, and I obeyed.
They told me to worship the men because men were God’s gift to this world and should be held most high for what they gave to us.
They were allowed to bend the rules. They were allowed to orgasm.
They were allowed to do everything, while the Favorites, boys and girls alike, were told how to act, how to dress, how to breathe.
Those they didn’t raise to become Pillars became…what? If they lied about women orgasming, then they had to have lied about where they took the Favorites once they were married. Where did they go? What happened to them?
What happened to the people who went to Absolution?
Did they all end up like I was going to end up? Being shared among the Leaders, being penetrated by their Pastors?
What about their children?
My eyes widened, my hands clenching into fists. Thomas was going to take my children and turn them into he and I. The girls would be sold to the church, and the boys would become like him.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I wouldn’t.
But what could I do?
The key slid in the lock, and I immediately stood, taking my place in the middle of the living room, tilting my head down, placing my hands at my sides and I waited. It was only Wednesday. I was dressed in sweats and a tee shirt, nothing worthy of Azrael’s visit. Why was he here?
The door opened a moment later, and I felt those warm eyes wash over me.
He was quiet as he shut the door behind him. After several seconds, he spoke. “You’ve been festering,” he noted, walking towards the table.
I heard him set something down as I tapped my finger.
“Is that your way of rebelling against the code they wrote for you to follow? Your hands at your side.”
Rather than tapping, I fisted my hands. I didn’t realize I had made that choice.
It seemed…easier now. Breaking their rules knowing what they had done.
I felt so…I felt so…angry. I could feel that burning again under my skin, only this time it blazed.
It charred my bones, I could feel it marring my insides, and now I had a name for it.
I knew it without a doubt. This was rage. I felt rage.
“Do you have a new picture for me, to show me why you’ve shifted your perspective so fully?” he asked evenly.
I tapped my finger.
“Then go.”
I quickly headed for my room, getting on my knees only to pull out the most recent picture I had drawn.
I pushed myself to a stand and walked back into the living room.
“Stop,” he told me.
I paused.
“Before you show me anything, take your hair down.”
I hesitated for only a second before reaching up and pulling the too-tight hair tie out of my hair, letting my hair fall around my shoulders in waves.
“No more ponytails,” he told me. “I don’t like them, and I don’t think you do either.”
It wasn’t a question, but I found myself signing ‘thank you’ to him anyway. I did truly dislike them. I was glad I wouldn’t have to wear them anymore.
“You’re welcome,” he told me. “Show me what you’ve painted.”
I walked over to the table and set it down, taking a step back so he could see the picture fully. I caught sight of a red box with black stripes on the table. He had brought something.
“Not a painting, a drawing,” he corrected himself.
It was a drawing of the church on fire, the word ‘lies’ written over and over and over again. The word was written so jaggedly in some places that the paper had crinkled and withered a little.
“All this from an orgasm,” he hummed, mostly to himself. “I wonder what you’ll do when you start to learn about everything else.” He turned to me. “I’ve brought you something.”
My spine straightened. A present?
“Yes, a present,” he told me as if hearing my thoughts. “I’ll tell you what it’s for after you’ve opened it, but you must do one thing for me before you get it.”
I’ve never opened a present before. Was it the box on the table? Was that for me?
“They say that eyes are the window to the soul. You can always see the truths of a person, even if they don’t want you to.
I think that’s why they train you to always look at your feet.
They truly are cowards and can’t face the truth of what they’ve done to you.
Cowards like to talk big games, they like to give the illusion of power, tell stories of dominance and beliefs, of how they think the world should be, when in reality, when it comes right down to it, if confronted by one little lamb the only thing they are able to do is look in the other direction, claim that what they said wasn’t what they said.
Backtrack on their very beliefs, rewrite the narrative to fit their new ideal.
You? Darling sinner, you could be the lamb with fangs.
You are not a coward, Scarlett. You see so much with your eyes on the ground that I can’t help but wonder what kind of power you would have if you could see into their tar-filled souls. ”
I went still. So still, I thought my heart might have stopped. My lungs certainly stopped inhaling. I heard the whole world suddenly buzzing around me.
To look was to commit one of the greatest sins. Favorites were not to look upon anyone. Not ever.
But…we were also taught never to feel joy for anyone other than our betrothed. Never to smile, never to speak, never to wear our hair down in public unless requested by the Leaders, never to walk next to our owner. Never to become impure. Never to touch ourselves.
Power, he said. Would I have power?
“You could be so powerful, little sinner, you could have so much control if trained correctly. You could see the tar coating their hearts. You’d be able to tell which of those spades deserve to be protected and which ones deserve to be painted blood red.
You see, we don’t kill innocents on purpose, although it tends to happen when they decide to get in the way, but we do hunt down those who spread their tar like a plague.
The plague that overtook the kingdom you are trying to escape from.
We must rid it of the tar so that it never spreads to our Wonderland. ”
My heart picked up at the idea of it. At the idea of cleansing the world of the tar that had corrupted this kingdom. Of the people who had captured me and kept me in that cage. I was almost out, I could feel it, I couldn’t stop now.
“In order to see the tar in the hearts of those around you, you must learn how to meet their eyes. Your power is the power of sight, and I would like to bless you with it. Whenever you are with me, you are allowed to execute this power whenever and wherever you might want, unless, that is, I ask otherwise. There will be times when you must act as they have trained you if only to complete our game, do you understand this?”
I tapped my trembling finger, my heart racing. “Yes, I understand.”
It wasn’t just them I would look in the eye though, it was my Hatter too. I could finally see his face. See who he was, the color of his eyes. I could see the madness living within him. I could see everything.
My heart began to pound in my chest, my hands curling into fists. It felt like my stomach had suddenly filled with a thousand butterflies, all of them made of lightning, their wings fluttering at a speed I couldn’t comprehend.
It felt good and bad at the same time. Almost like what that orgasm felt like but on a lesser level.
“Come on,” Azrael sang, that lilt in his voice ever present, “make your Hatter proud.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling my breathing pick up in a way that wasn’t wholly unfamiliar at this point.
I flexed my hands at my sides. Nobody would see this.
He wouldn’t have asked if he hadn’t fixed the cameras.
This would be our secret for right now. Our secret until he told me I could do it at the church, and when I did it there, I wanted to do it without hesitation.
I didn’t want to show the weakness they had forced down my throat.
I wanted to be a true Queen of Hearts. Someone worthy of having captured the attention of someone like Azrael.
I counted three Mississippi’s, inhaled deeply and lifted my chin, knowing exactly where his eyes were.
I always knew. I always felt them. Just open them.
Quickly. Even if it’s just for a second, just a moment.
This isn’t disobedience, this was me pleasing him.
Me doing what he wanted because I wanted to.
I wanted to do this, I was choosing this. I was choosing me.
My eyes tore open, locking with his.
I froze, everything in me burning up with a fire I didn’t quite understand.
He was beautiful.
His eyes were ocean blue. Like the torrential waves of an angry sea. Light blues and dark blues and little flecks of white, and I saw everything inside of them. I saw our Hysteric Wonderland. I saw my Hatter. I saw fire and ice and that lilt come to life.
I felt him swallow me up whole without remorse.