4.

4.

 

I never got to shower last night. It took some physical persuasion to get Jake back to the other side of the door.

I barred the door with my wardrobe, and slept soundly knowing that even if they were strong enough to get through, it would produce a loud enough noise to wake me in the process.

The house is three stories high. There is also a large shed about one hundred yards behind the house. It's actually kind of a barn, but everybody calls it a shed. Everything is fenced in, although we live miles away from all of our neighbors. I am only sent to visit them when one of their animals wanders toward our house. I wonder if they are intrigued by the sounds and smells or if they are simply wanderers. The number of animals we saw slowly decreased. I hoped they weren’t being killed, but were just fenced in now.

Marissa runs a cult. She embraces the label, regardless of the connotation it holds, and encourages her puppets that it is a label the rest of the world puts on something they cannot understand. They are convinced that they are on an enlightening path through life. The destination is Paragon. This is always what they, the cult, calls themselves as a whole. I don’t consider myself a part of them. Marissa proclaims that she has already taken this path to Paragon and will gift them with it in their death. Of course, they don't view it as death. But that's exactly what it is. Murder. Torture. Death. And she is their God. By my understanding, they believe in a rebirth in which they will become a ruler as she is. I know that it is a crock of s**t, but is all fairly convincing to someone with a soft brain. Those that she cannot convince with her words, she can convince in other ways. Most were broken after isolation. A few require blood, sweat, and tears. Although most come voluntarily, they can have no reservation left that their old way of life was fulfilling.

There is no Paragon. She's just a sadistic woman with a past she's ashamed of and grasps at any control she can have on the world. The weak.

For years I wondered how they could be so convinced of this Paragon. Then I observed her sexual nature playing a major role in recruitment. Women typically came with their husbands. Marissa convinced the man, and the man convinced his wife. The lone victim usually sufferers from a mental illness, and these are the most loyal.  But she likes to challenge herself at times and go after successful, intelligent, strong-willed men and women. After watching her process once, I decided to pretend it doesn't happen anymore. As I said before, most puppets volunteer themselves to her, and they get what's coming to them. Others are torn from a beautiful life. I can't stomach that thought.

My job is to take care of the children. Some of the puppets bring theirs, passing them over to me as their gift to Paragon. Others are impregnated on a schedule. The birth and death rate needs to be strictly regulated. I take care of them until they’re eight years old and then they go to the shed. Yes, they’re stored there as tools.

We have 3 children in my care now and 4 pregnant women. I love the children. I used to do my best with them because they were the sole reason I was treated well by Marissa. Then they stated to grow on me. They rarely had contact with anybody else in the house. We keep them on the bottom floor, and I am currently trying to convince Marissa to let me sleep in the room next to theirs. They are only seven, five, and four years old. The eldest is Bryan and the youngest, his brother, Colin. The middle is Samantha. She likes to be called Sam to sound like the boys. She found a book with a male character named Samuel and has wished to be called accordingly ever since.

The boys are dirty blonde while Sam has a thick black mane of hair. The boys prefer their hair as long as they can grow it, but I was forced to start buzzing it once a month. Marissa believes  they were feeling too individualized. Sam is only able to keep hers if it is kept up in a tight bun like the rest of the women. It doesn't suit her as a seven year old, but I am happy to have at least that compromise.

I don't bother to change or even look at myself in the mirror when I get out of bed. I know exactly what I will see: a tall female, mocha skin, sturdy frame, broad shoulders, long curly hair that fell past my shoulder blades. More often than not, it is pulled back in a bun to keep it from knotting as quickly. And any time I wore it down, it was pulled on and messed with by the puppets whenever they got the chance. Though I slept and showered in crappy conditions, I ate well, and I got enough sun. I have more fat on my bones than necessary, but I am thankful for the extra ten pounds. It is the stress that is always so visible in my face. The only intriguing feature you can find is the color of my eyes. They are a caramel color freckled in bright gold.

I push the wardrobe back to its corner and step into the hallway. I smell the food before I hear the group downstairs. Coffee, eggs, oatmeal. If everybody is already downstairs, I might as well wash my face in the sink.

The bathroom is identical to the rest of the top floor. White. This is all minus Marissa's bedroom. Her room is set back to the left on the far side of the hallway. There is no reason to ever walk past or even eye her door, unless you are summoned, because the door was in its own inlet in the wall. It is also dramatically pained a shiny black. I have been in several times, and I was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable it is inside. The walls are a dark grey with a black accent wall where her king-size bed is draped in dark-purple fabrics. Her bathroom is painted blood red. The paint is oddly streaked rather than one solid color. I have longed to soak in the large bath I had seen her in before. The only light available in both rooms is from the dozens of candles mounted on the walls and placed on shelves. It created an ominous feeling that you could only experience there.

I wash my face with cold water and start downstairs. The puppets are scarffing down their breakfast in the dining room at the long oak table. Nobody sits at the heads of the table but Marissa and me. I am the only living thing she will make eye contact with. Unless she's watching the life fade from her puppet’s eyes, she only commanded them rather than talking to them as if they have worth. After breakfast, the puppets will go into the living room and wait for instruction.

I walk into the kitchen where Marissa was staring out the window above the sink to the back yard. When barefoot, I walk on my toes. I despise the feeling of crumbs or dirt sticking to the arch or heels of my feet.

"What's out there?" I ask absently. It is rare to see her so still. 

"I think Brook's dog is headed this way again," she replied.

"Can I eat before I take him back?" I decide to stretch my luck this morning. "Or at least shower? It's been four days. Brook may not be as grateful if I smell like a dingy slave when I return Bab to him." She flinches, sighs and turns toward me. She never refersz our neighbors by their first names, and never uses the names of the animals even if I have given them to her.

I study her never-aging face. She says she's my mother. I know that a lot of children take after one parent more than the other, and I wonder what my father must have looked like, because I saw no resemblance between us. He must have been significantly darker skinned than the two of us, and taller. Marissa is average height, just a couple inches shorter than me. Her hair is stick-straight, thin, bright blonde. Though her hair has never been a different shade, her eyebrows are brown, so I question whether that's her natural color. Her pale skin contrasts beautifully with her sharp, green eyes. She lines her lids in black and her eyelashes are full and thick with mascara. Her small frame never hinders her ability to exude confidence and power.

"Next time Jake decides to play games, bring him to me. I’m assuming you’re why he’s limping this morning. Those children need to trust that they'll be taken care of. It's hard to expect that when you..." Her eyes scan me quickly. "Go."

I take the stairs two at a time and start stripping off my clothes before I even get to the door. I know that I will be alone long enough to wash myself and stand under the warm water until my fingers prune. I wash my hair twice, condition it twice, combing through it for ten minutes to untangle every knot. The shower drain begins to clog with hair. I pour too much soap on a wash cloth and scrub my body until my skin reddens. We can't keep razors in the house because a lot of the puppets have self-mutilating tendencies. I need to ask Marissa for waxing materials later. These are of course only provided for me.

I want to stay in the shower longer, but I am too excited to walk across the land with Bab. I love animals. I’ve tried convincing Marissa several times that we could at least get a cat to keep rodents out of the shed. She hasn't caved yet. I also enjoy visiting Jayden Brook. He insists that I call him Jay. But I like the sound of his full name; it’s so similar to mine. Babikan is the dog’s full name, but I shorten it to Bab. Jayden is a bright, blonde, blue-eyed man. He's angelic, even. I sometimes have tea with him on his back porch. I stay as often as possible so that Marissa won’t wonder why I stay so long only certain days. Even when he isn’t home, I wander nearby, sometimes going into the trees beside his home and sit in the quiet. Actually, Bab isn't even Jayden’s. It's his friend's German shepherd that has free range of the country side we live in. He told me that I don't need to worry about bringing the dog back every time we see it, but I insisted that he not wander too close because Marissa doesn't like him nearby.

I walk nude back to my room. I hate the way it feels having cold drops of water all over me, but I had forgotten to grab my towel before jumping under the water. My room's odor smacks me in the face every time I open the door. I hold my breath and hurry to open a window.

After I dress I descend the stairs again to see what today's events are. The second floor is vacant and the kitchen is clean. I spent more time on myself than I thought. I go down to check in on the children before I return Bab. They are all still curled up in bed. They only eat one meal a day unless I am able to sneak snacks down to them, and that wasn’t for another three hours. Rarely did anybody else lay eyes on them in the basement, but I don’t like to chance Marissa seeing or smelling extra food.

"You guys know not to sleep in." I crossed the room and threw open the curtains. The light stung my eyes. I squint and turn around theatrically. "Up, up, up! Nobody is in the house, I need to go return the dog and--"

"Which one?" Sam sat up excitedly. I don't think she realizes that there is only one dog now.

"You're not going. You need to clean yourselves up and get started on your studies. I don't know how much I'll be with you guys today," I confess. I think that I am more disappointed that I will be spending time walking around between the houses rather than with them. I truly did enjoy being here with them.

Sam is frowning now, but she doesn’t lie back down. She has always been easy to wake and quick to go to sleep. The boys are a different story.

"You'll be finished with your worksheets by the time I get back. If you are to earn more of my love, you'll have two completed by the time I get back," I tease.

From the screen door in the next room, I set out past the barn. Jake is mowing the grass within the fence. Another, Caleb, is weed whacking the edges around the barn, house, and garden that stretches along the left side of the house. I'm guessing that everyone else is still in the barn continuing their rituals.

I hop the fence and walk quickly over the couple of miles between the homes. Half a mile through, Bab approaches. He's running over to me and I drop to my knees with the biggest smile on my face.

"Hey, Babs," I yell. He tackles me to the ground and licks my face. I laugh and scratch his neck. He’s panting and his breath is wet and hot on my face. We lay there for a few minutes before we set off for Jayden's house. Bab trots beside me happily, and I feel better than I have in weeks. I wonder if Jayden will be there. I wonder if he will have time to sit down and talk to me. I feel relaxed with him. He surprisingly never asks questions about my "family" or my day to day life. Marissa always interrogates me when I return, worried that I have told him something about Paragon.

I can see the back of his house now. I don't see any movement inside the windows, no shadows from a TV. I won't let it discourage me. It is day time, so shadows from a TV would be almost non-existent anyway. When he hasn't come outside by the time I've reached the house, I realize he probably isn't there. I circle around the front and his car isn't there. I scan the dirt driveway that curves in to the trees and stretches are beyond what my eye can see. I'm trying not to feel disappointed by this, but I do feel a certain kind of sadness.

"I wish you could come back with me. The kids would love to play with you," I mumble to Babikan. He whines. I sit down, pressing my back against the side of the house. Babikan sits close, staring at me. I scratch behind his ears and smile. "Why is she so afraid of you?"

He licks my face again, and I close my eyes.