It Ain't Me, Babe

It was a dream. It was only a dream…

My momentary feeling of peace quickly evaporated as I stared at the strange ceiling and I stiffened as I realized I did not recognize my surroundings.

The room was dark and smelled different from anything I had known. Hmm? Perhaps leather and an oil of some description?

Glancing to the right, barely opening my eyelids, I noticed a man stood at a long table. He had long brown hair and he was taking instruments or pills from a black bag. His back was turned away from me and there was a picture on the back of his leather vest. For several seconds I struggled to make out the image, but then my stomach fell as recognition hit—Satan!

I controlled my breathing, striving to keep calm, trying to focus my fuzzy mind. Thankful for small mercies, I rejoiced that he had not noticed I was awake. But then he turned to face me and his short brown beard came into view.

A disciple…?

My mind was a foggy mess as I tried to remember why I was in such a strange place. It had been the day of my twenty-third birthday… my wedding day to Prophet David… but… but… something happened to make me run. My heart pumped my blood like white rapids within my chest, the currents burning under my skin. What was it? What did I see…? A gate… a body… my… No!

Bella!

Bella… in that cell… dying in the cell… beaten, bloodied… neglected. She had told me to run as she took her last breath. I could not save her. I ran… but… but… I could not remember the rest.

My breaths came in short, sharp pants and I tried to move my hand, but something was poking into my flesh.

My fingers began tapping nervously. I could not remember what had happened to me, what led me to this bed, unconscious, but I knew I must leave, flee this place.

I began counting. One… two… three… four… five… and inched my fingers to the sheets blanketing my body. I was wearing some form of robe. Six… seven… eight… nine… I took a deep breath.

Finally reaching ten, I slowly lifted my body, my limbs feeling too heavy. Kicking my legs over the side of the bed, I pulled the robe tight around my waist to protect my modesty and landed on shaky feet, a sharp pain ripping up my left calf.

Abruptly, the strange man spun around; my sudden movement obviously shocked him. He dropped whatever was in his hands and he inched forward, palms thrust out, surprise clear on his face. My eyes darted around the room: a large set of wooden drawers, one single black leather chair, black painted walls, washroom, bed.

Feeling a sting, I glanced down and noticed something was in the back of my hand, a wire attached to a strange clear bag hanging from the bedpost.

Reaching down, I pulled the needle out, crying out loudly as it ripped my flesh and a stream of blood trickled down my arm.

“No! Fuck! Wait. Calm down. It’s… it’s okay.” The man attempted to soothe me with his deep voice.

I did not recognize him from commune, but he was a disciple, I had no doubt. This meant I had to leave. I realized Gabriel must have tracked me down after all. This man was my captor. I was about to be punished.

Scanning the room, I spotted a door behind me to my left. An exit. The man moved forward two steps, his words slower and clearer this time.

“Please. I won’t hurt you.”

I cocked my head to the side. He was being kind, even gentle, but I knew it must be a trick, an evil ruse. He raked his hand through his hair and rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt, large, bulging forearms on display.

I stumbled back, hitting the hard wall. His arms. His arms carried the picture of the devil. I stared. I could not stop staring as my body seized in fear. He looked down to see what had me so scared.

His bright-brown eyes widened as they focused back on me. “No, f**k! It’s not what you think. Don’t be scared of me.”

A lifelong teaching set off an alarm in my mind: Evil is stalking. Evil will catch you. Evil will destroy your very soul.

Attempting to reach the door, my feet were sluggish. Too tired to function, my leg felt as if it were on fire. Somehow I kept going, taking advantage of the fact that he was on the other side of the large bed.

“No! Wait! Ah, shit!”

I did not. I continued forward. Gripping the handle, I pushed through on unsure feet, slamming the door behind me. The winding path of a dark, narrow corridor became my guide and I continued down a set of stairs, using the wall to keep me upright.

I could hear people at the end of the corridor and I glanced over my shoulder just as the man burst through the bedroom door, yelling at me to stop. His whole frame appeared to fill the hallway. His face was intent and he was scaring me now. The way he stalked me unsettled my nerves.