An Angel's Hell - Chapter Seven
Could there be hope in Loren's future?
I do not believe I have ever felt this much pain before in my life. My throat is raw, my eyes dry as the desert air, my entire body aches, but that is not the source of this hell. No, the pain is deeper and worse than any physical injury. It is the pain of loss. No tears come as I think of Jill's death again for the umpteenth time since I woke up in this prison. The walls that imprison me are painted a deep red but the paint fails to hide the blood splotches that inhabit several areas in the cell. It does not scare me; this pain is all I seem to feel. The pain is different from anything that I have known. I compare it to what I felt after dad left but even then it does not compare.
It leaves me breathless and empty as if I no longer have a reason to live, not that I do, but it is crippling me beyond belief. I am not sure how long I have been here. Perhaps a day, perhaps a hundred, I have not bothered counting. No one has visited me, or at least no one has allowed visitors to come in. Every now again I hear murmurs but to my ears they are all gibberish. There is a small opening in the door where they shove plates of food in once a day. The food is mesh, I do not trust it enough to eat it and even if I did, I would not eat it anyway. A small window overhead ushers light in but I always stay in the farthest corner where the light fails to touch. I do not want to feel the sun on my skin; I do not want to feel anything. There is not a bathroom in here, either which makes it stink. If only I could really give a damn.
Sometimes I hear someone call out Jill's name and it is only until a little while ago do I realize it is me. The sound of my voice is unrecognizable. My voice sounds more like a mourning animal than a human's. I am thrown off guard when the sound of keys hitting the metal of the lock disturbs my silence. Cringing against my corner I will myself invisible and in this insanity I almost believe I can do so. Then the door is thrown open and a large man holding a long spiked whip, similar to the one that murdered Harold. His lips move but I cannot comprehend the meaning of them. The man becomes annoyed by my ignorance and raises the whip over his head and snaps it down quickly. I do not cry, instead I welcome the physical pain. The agony aroused by the whip is enough to alter the emotional pain; but not for long. He raises it again, to my pleasing, but another man rushes in and stops him.
My eyes fall away from them as my body shakes. I am hardly aware of the warm liquid that falls from the place in my side that the whip had caught. Resting my head against the wall, I let out a trembling breath. But before I can settle the second man takes me by the arm and pulls me up in a harsh jerk. Unstable, I fall face down in something wet. It smells foul but I am hardly given the time to investigate as to what it is before I am yet again pulled to my feet. This time I have the sense to reach out and clutch the wall and steady myself. It takes me several seconds to stable my legs, to the man's annoyance, but at last I am able to walk a little bit. The man leads me out to a dark chamber where I find Thea standing. I must have looked pretty bad because Thea lets out a muffled sob at the sight of me.
I do not understand what is going on but I do not dare speak as the guard commands me to sign a release paper. I killed a man, I am a murderer, so this should not be allowed especially by the Prospects. Thea has enough sense not to talk either until we are out of the prison. Despite the small light the window provided in my cell the sun is blinding when we walk outside. So much, that I have to depend on Thea to lead the way.
"They almost hung you," Thea whispered when we were safely a few hundred feet away. When I do not answer she carries on. "But, one of the guards testified that it was self defense. The case went all the way up to the Prospects court. Although their punishment was bad, it was not as bad."
After a long pause I throw her a questioning look. Thea swallowed and continued. "One thousand gold pieces for your release or thirty years in that hell hole."
My eyebrows furrow as I shake my head. How in the world could my family come up with that much money? It was simply impossible. To answer my thoughts Thea explained, "Dad came back. He heard what had happened and gave us all of his savings. That was not enough, however, so he also worked double shifts for the last three months. Laila worked picking peaches and mom sold knitted items."
I notice she does not comment on how she raised enough money but at that moment I really do not want to know. It does not seem possible that my dad helped much less came back around. By doing so he puts himself in danger. As we turn the corner to my house I still am unable to believe that he would actually help me out. After all, he did leave us for a whore and a better life.
As soon as we make it to the porch the door is swung open and little Laila runs out with her arms greedily open. They find my waist without any trouble and embrace me with a tight hug. Though the grip comes for a young girl, it is enough to send daggers down my side. I do not protest, though, instead I hold on to my sister. After we hug and she begins to fill me in on everything I have missed in the last three months, we step inside. My eyes fix on the three people standing parallel to the couch in the living room. The first thought that runs through my mind when I see my father is to punch him. Not only because he left us and I have not seen him for years but he also had the nerve to bring the whore that took him away from him. I wonder what the Prospects would do with me if I murdered two people within the same year.
"Son, I have missed you," he whispers as he steps forward.
I nod in his direction pretending that I did not notice his outstretched arms. Then, I find my mother and go to her. I can see the tears in her eyes though she is fighting them. The lavender fragrance stemming from her hair is enough to make me cry, but I do not. She kisses my cheek and holds me gently, careful of my injuries. We are stopped shortly as my father clears his throat.
"Loren, there are a lot of things we need to discuss," he says quietly, eyeing the windows and door.
Without permission he takes a seat in a chair that used to be his favorite, as if he had that right. My blood begins to boil but I am hardly in a state to fight much like speak so instead I sit down.
"I can see you are in pain and you need to be tended to soon so I will make this quick," he mumbles quietly as if worried someone was listening in. With the whore at his side he looks over at my mother who nods, then continues. "I did not leave you guys because I wanted to. I left because I was searching for the rebels that are starting an uprising against the Prospects." I start but he cuts me off before I could retaliate. "Son, I need you to listen because I must hurry. You see, there is a group, I found it. They want to bring down our government and give us a new beginning. Don't you see Loren? There is hope!"
I can barely breathe as I try to digest the last words. There is hope.
It leaves me breathless and empty as if I no longer have a reason to live, not that I do, but it is crippling me beyond belief. I am not sure how long I have been here. Perhaps a day, perhaps a hundred, I have not bothered counting. No one has visited me, or at least no one has allowed visitors to come in. Every now again I hear murmurs but to my ears they are all gibberish. There is a small opening in the door where they shove plates of food in once a day. The food is mesh, I do not trust it enough to eat it and even if I did, I would not eat it anyway. A small window overhead ushers light in but I always stay in the farthest corner where the light fails to touch. I do not want to feel the sun on my skin; I do not want to feel anything. There is not a bathroom in here, either which makes it stink. If only I could really give a damn.
Sometimes I hear someone call out Jill's name and it is only until a little while ago do I realize it is me. The sound of my voice is unrecognizable. My voice sounds more like a mourning animal than a human's. I am thrown off guard when the sound of keys hitting the metal of the lock disturbs my silence. Cringing against my corner I will myself invisible and in this insanity I almost believe I can do so. Then the door is thrown open and a large man holding a long spiked whip, similar to the one that murdered Harold. His lips move but I cannot comprehend the meaning of them. The man becomes annoyed by my ignorance and raises the whip over his head and snaps it down quickly. I do not cry, instead I welcome the physical pain. The agony aroused by the whip is enough to alter the emotional pain; but not for long. He raises it again, to my pleasing, but another man rushes in and stops him.
My eyes fall away from them as my body shakes. I am hardly aware of the warm liquid that falls from the place in my side that the whip had caught. Resting my head against the wall, I let out a trembling breath. But before I can settle the second man takes me by the arm and pulls me up in a harsh jerk. Unstable, I fall face down in something wet. It smells foul but I am hardly given the time to investigate as to what it is before I am yet again pulled to my feet. This time I have the sense to reach out and clutch the wall and steady myself. It takes me several seconds to stable my legs, to the man's annoyance, but at last I am able to walk a little bit. The man leads me out to a dark chamber where I find Thea standing. I must have looked pretty bad because Thea lets out a muffled sob at the sight of me.
I do not understand what is going on but I do not dare speak as the guard commands me to sign a release paper. I killed a man, I am a murderer, so this should not be allowed especially by the Prospects. Thea has enough sense not to talk either until we are out of the prison. Despite the small light the window provided in my cell the sun is blinding when we walk outside. So much, that I have to depend on Thea to lead the way.
"They almost hung you," Thea whispered when we were safely a few hundred feet away. When I do not answer she carries on. "But, one of the guards testified that it was self defense. The case went all the way up to the Prospects court. Although their punishment was bad, it was not as bad."
After a long pause I throw her a questioning look. Thea swallowed and continued. "One thousand gold pieces for your release or thirty years in that hell hole."
My eyebrows furrow as I shake my head. How in the world could my family come up with that much money? It was simply impossible. To answer my thoughts Thea explained, "Dad came back. He heard what had happened and gave us all of his savings. That was not enough, however, so he also worked double shifts for the last three months. Laila worked picking peaches and mom sold knitted items."
I notice she does not comment on how she raised enough money but at that moment I really do not want to know. It does not seem possible that my dad helped much less came back around. By doing so he puts himself in danger. As we turn the corner to my house I still am unable to believe that he would actually help me out. After all, he did leave us for a whore and a better life.
As soon as we make it to the porch the door is swung open and little Laila runs out with her arms greedily open. They find my waist without any trouble and embrace me with a tight hug. Though the grip comes for a young girl, it is enough to send daggers down my side. I do not protest, though, instead I hold on to my sister. After we hug and she begins to fill me in on everything I have missed in the last three months, we step inside. My eyes fix on the three people standing parallel to the couch in the living room. The first thought that runs through my mind when I see my father is to punch him. Not only because he left us and I have not seen him for years but he also had the nerve to bring the whore that took him away from him. I wonder what the Prospects would do with me if I murdered two people within the same year.
"Son, I have missed you," he whispers as he steps forward.
I nod in his direction pretending that I did not notice his outstretched arms. Then, I find my mother and go to her. I can see the tears in her eyes though she is fighting them. The lavender fragrance stemming from her hair is enough to make me cry, but I do not. She kisses my cheek and holds me gently, careful of my injuries. We are stopped shortly as my father clears his throat.
"Loren, there are a lot of things we need to discuss," he says quietly, eyeing the windows and door.
Without permission he takes a seat in a chair that used to be his favorite, as if he had that right. My blood begins to boil but I am hardly in a state to fight much like speak so instead I sit down.
"I can see you are in pain and you need to be tended to soon so I will make this quick," he mumbles quietly as if worried someone was listening in. With the whore at his side he looks over at my mother who nods, then continues. "I did not leave you guys because I wanted to. I left because I was searching for the rebels that are starting an uprising against the Prospects." I start but he cuts me off before I could retaliate. "Son, I need you to listen because I must hurry. You see, there is a group, I found it. They want to bring down our government and give us a new beginning. Don't you see Loren? There is hope!"
I can barely breathe as I try to digest the last words. There is hope.
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