Crybaby | Michael Langdon

32 - Gift - 32

Miriam Mead watched two men dressed in black robes drag a frightened young woman towards the altar. She struggled as hard as she could, her sobs muffled by the tape covering her mouth. Panicked tears kept rolling down her face as her wide brown eyes threw Miriam a pleading look. However, the woman only stared back, unmoved by her distress, like the dozens of other members watching her get chained to the altar.

She breathed heavily as her eyes kept looking around to find a way to escape. The chain rattled as she pulled on it as hard as she could, her face scrunching in pain, her audience laughed.

Suddenly Miriam heard a few gasps behind her, and she looked over her shoulder and noticed everyone turning around to look at the church entrance.

And stepping in the church like he owned the place was Michael Langdon. Dressed in a black suit with a red tie, hands buried in his pockets, a smug smile on his face as he gazed at the speechless crowd.

Even the captive girl had ceased all movement, her wide eyes taking the scene in.

"The Antichrist is here!" A man spoke up with a grin, and the crowd suddenly stood up and bowed down to greet him, all ecstatic to finally see him after months of radio silence.

A year ago, Michael would have loved the attention and proudly smiled at being called the Antichrist, now he only fought the urge to roll his eyes at them.

He politely nodded in answer as he forced a smile, eyes searching the audience for a familiar face.

His eyes zeroed in on Miriam Mead, and she narrowed her own as she watched him walk over to where she was sitting. He joined her on the bench, which was empty since the others were always too scared to sit besides her.

She stared him down with cold eyes in an attempt at finding out the reason of his sudden reappearance.

"Looks like I'm right on time." Michael noted with a bored look as he looked at the young woman chained to the altar, who by then had fallen silent and was curled in a ball at the foot of the stone table. "The ceremony hasn't started yet."

Miriam clicked her tongue. "Eight months, Michael. It's been eight. Goddamned. Months."

He sighed loudly as he sat back, hands joined on his lap.

"I've been busy."

She scoffed. "Busy screwing the enemy, Judas. I've seen you with her."

"I mean, you've seen what the enemy looks like. Can't really blame me." He taunted with a smirk, and Miriam looked utterly displeased by his words. "Why the name calling? You hate me now?"

The girl noticed a man approaching her with a large dagger in hand. The chains rattled as she cowered in fear, whimpers escaping her trembling lips.

"You have gained her trust, you can easily bring Marie to us." Miriam pointed her chin towards the altar. "It should be her on that altar, ready to be carved in like a pig. Her mangled heart would be our greatest gift to your father."

Her cold gaze snapped back to him. "It's not too late to make the right choice, Michael."

"If Marie dies, I die." Michael stated, causing Miriam's eyes to widen in shock.

"Oh..." Miriam looked down as she went deep in thought. "We can't have the Antichrist dying, we need to find a solu-"

"That's all I am to you?" Michael suddenly snapped as he glared. "The fucking Antichrist?"

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "That's what you are, Michael. I don't understand why you're so upset."

The executioner ripped the tape off the girl's face, who yelped in pain. She started to plead him to spare her.