Page 68 of Souls We Rip

The stairs which led to the first floor of the building were on my right. But I didn’t get to step on them, and the first face I saw was the woman I was supposed to hunt. She held two children by the arms, not older than six.

The boys were naked, their skin purple on their arms and yellow on their stomachs. My blood grew hot in my veins, a rage I have never felt before flooding me. I crouched down and spoke through my teeth. “Stay!”

My order was for the woman. As soon as her body froze, the boys scurried away, leaving me to fulfil my contract.

My scythe split the woman in half.

Three souls collected.

Seven remaining.

“See, Goat Man? I can handle myself very well.”

After saying that, bile rose, its acid burning my throat.

“I see that,” the Goat Man said, holding me in his arms.

But that woke me up and expelled the nausea. Even though his hold comforted me.

I pushed myself slowly away from him. “I cannot touch a murderer.”

He stepped back, his eyes turning into slits. “What are you then? A holy person?” His chin wobbled, but he recomposed his stance. “Aren’t you one now, too?”

“I did it at your behest, but I never hurt anyone else while I was human. You did.”

“Oh, that was it? I was wondering where my sense of morality was. I am glad that it resides in you, Ana.” He held his eyes narrowed. “If you think yourself so pristine, then pray for my soul.”

He stepped towards me, his eyes boring into mine. He hesitated, wanting to say something else, but shook his head and marched outside.

I took a deep breath. Again, I could not meet my mentor on any grounds. I was too afraid to feel anything else, so I masked my turmoil caused by his murdering his own siblings. Which was an unforgivable thing to do. Since then, a small voice crept into my mind, saying that I should trust him. But the loud voice of my morality, as he put it, and my beliefs wouldn’t budge.

As I opened the main door to avoid the chaos we left behind, I felt two more swirls added to my eyes. It was as if worms were crawling inside, my vision becoming blurry.

On the busy street, there were the children that the Goat Man saved from my procession. They thanked me and ran freely, giggling and calling for the Stag Woman and the Goat Man.

Ana

My brain wouldn’t let me rest after taking two more souls.

For a week, I would extinguish the candles every time Andrei would light them. I preferred the unlit chamber to hide the dark thoughts that crossed my mind. I imagined how the countless years would replace my twenty-three, how I would saunter across Earth, with my scythe bloodied from taking evil souls.

Several times, I punctured my finger on the shiny glass of the Mirror, looking for my family.

Hoping that my sacrifice was not in vain, I closed my eyes, breathing the darkness.

I asked Andrei several times to get me any type of religious object. The first time he mocked me, the second time he laughed, and the third time he just threw me a look over his shoulder, as if I was mad.

Picturing the image of Saint Ana that I kept in my old room, I prayed each night. For my soul and even the souls I took.

One day, the longing for my family wouldn’t let me sleep. Thrashing the covers that pinched my skin, I stood up.

My steps took me over the icy stone floor, the coldness not bothering me anymore. I even asked Andrei to stop lighting the fire in the soba. It didn’t do much for me anymore.

There were still many questions on the tip of my lips, some left unanswered by God.

Will I keep my sanity? Or will it go down the Saturday’s River? Would His words still guide me while my scythe goes down?

Would God forgive me and allow me to join Him in Paradise? Or would He let me rot in Hell with the devil?