After Grace

9. Tartarus

Tamara dragged me up wide linoleum stairs and through long dark hallways, my feet scrambled to keep balance. She had her right hand at my back, wrapped around my bound wrists and her left holding the blade of her knife just under my chin. For the first time I saw the lockers and classrooms the elders used to mention in their stories, I paid no attention. My head was in the woods with Annie and Camden. Tamara suddenly lifted my arms behind my back, raising them almost entirely over my head. I felt the muscles in my shoulders stretch like elastic. "Don't leave me now," she said, putting her eyes in front of me like a snake. "I see you driftn' off..." she tapped the blade against my forehead. "Stay," she ordered and dropped my arms back down.

Our destination had been the third-floor library, all the books had long ago been cleared out, now it was nothing more than a giant holding cell. The prisoners I'd seen on their knees outside were all here. They stood as far back from the door as possible, their hands no longer bound.

"Good evening class," Tamara said, as she towed me inside. The prisoners inched back.  she took a chain lying on the floor and wrapped it around the twine which was binding my wrists. I could hear a metal hook click shut behind me. "The lesson today is..." now that I was leashed in place, she finally took a few steps away. "Interrogation!" she finished. "How to begin..." she put her blade against her lips and paced back and forth, thinking. 

I didn't know how much more I could stand. After all the running, the hunger, the violence, I was ready to give up. With every second that passed, I was losing my strength, my determination. She pulled a bottle of water from her jacket pocket and unscrewed the top. She drank it all in one gulp. For the first time I was aware of the dry, thick glob of meat that was my tongue.

"I know!" she yelped and pointed the knife at me. "Humiliation!" She rushed over and grabbed my shirt by the collar-- she pulled it toward her and stuck the knife through the fabric. She ran the blade down, tearing the shirt along the front, splitting it in half. She moved behind me and ripped the rest of my sweater and jacket, cutting the sleeves and tossing the fabric on the floor until I was standing in nothing but a sweat-stained bra. I shook as the chill of the room washed over me. I could no longer keep my teeth from smacking. "What do you think class? Humiliating enough?" she asked. "This is every student's worst nightmare, no?"

Tamara moved in front of me and looked down the length of my body. "Not bad," she said, meeting my eyes again. "The boys are waiting downstairs," she smiled. "You don't want this going any further, trust me. Where's your camp?" she asked. I closed my eyes. Every bone in my body ached to tell her what she wanted to know and end this. Then, I remembered the little girl who gasped when I came out on stage as the Good Princess and all the other children around her. I remembered the young parents and the elders, Joseph... I even thought about Damen, Oliver, and all the others who had made fun of me all my life. I thought about how naive we all had been, how ignorant. As much as I hated what they did to me, I knew they didn't deserve to die. None of them. I opened my eyes again, her gaze softened as she read me.

"Oooh..." she crooned with a smile, realizing I wasn't going to talk. "Good. That would have been no fun." She moved behind me and grabbed a chunk of my hair in her hand. "The boys don't deserve someone so pretty," she said and put the knife to my cheek. She pushed it against my face as hard as she could and sliced. I could feel the blade carve a long gash across my cheekbone. Everything went blank-- I screamed in agony as my nerves were severed. Pain was all I knew in that moment. 

I fell to my knees, she followed me down. Like rivers, the blood poured down my chest, splitting into different paths along my shoulders.

"Ready to tell me?" she asked again, her mouth pressed against my ear. I was drenched in sweat and burning, as if in an instant I had been plagued with a relentless fever. Echos of roaring laughter oozed in from the hall. "Here they come," she said and hopped up to her feet.

"Okay," I said, teeth still vibrating. "Keep them back and I'll tell you."

She smiled. "Wait here," she laughed and went nearly skipping through the door, leaving me and the other prisoners alone.

I reached my shaking index finger down into my shoes and scooped out the matchbox I had hidden after setting the town hall on fire. The chain was only wrapped around the twine, if I could burn the rope, I'd be free.

I tried to strike the match but from this angle, it was almost impossible.

"Help me," I said, looking up to my frightened audience. Not even the dust moved. "If we help each other, we can get out." 

They remained in place. I could hear Tamara trying to talk the men from coming in. I concentrated on the match in my hand. My cheek pulsed with pain. One last time I ripped the match head against the sandpaper box and heard the whoosh of it catching.

The door began to open. A man's hairy arm was pushing from the other side.

"Hey!" Tamara shouted, "Halter's orders are to find the camp." The door slowly closed. I put the burning match as close as I could to the twine, the heat began pricking at my wrists. My skin boiled with nail-sized blisters as the rope caught fire. I bit my lip and closed my eyes. Anything not to scream. That same metallic taste I'd experienced after Damen hit me flooded into my mouth again as the cut on my lip reopened.

I pulled my arms apart and to my complete surprise, the rope actually snapped. The chain fell to the floor with a quick but loud swoosh. I froze, staring at the door. No one came running through. I looked at my burned wrists and down to the blood painting my body red. I put my hand against the cut on my cheek to stop the bleeding and stood as quietly as I could.

"Is there a back way out?" I asked the silent prisoners. But I could already tell everything had all been barricaded long ago. The only way out was the way in.

I ran to the counter against the wall, checking every drawer for anything I could use. They were all empty save for one which had a single item rolling inside; a plastic pen.

I held it tight in my hand as if it were the most important thing in the world. I still couldn't stop shaking, the windows had been shattered years ago. The wind started to pick up outside and as the blood that covered my body began to congeal, I could feel my body temperature dropping. I moved to the door, waiting for it to open. There was no place to hide, no secret way out. I would have to face her directly. I would have to be fast.

"Don't," a small voice came from behind me. It was a girl a little younger than myself. "They'll catch you. They'll do horrible things to us."

"I don't have a choice," I whispered. Just then, I heard the men behind the door grunt and moan in unanimous disappointment. Their boots marched heavy down the hall. Tamara had done it.

As the door swung open I slipped behind it, behind her. "Okay they're gone-" she said. The words caught in her throat when she saw I wasn't there. She reached for the knife in her belt. I sprang out and put my hand over hers before she could unsheathe the blade-- without hesitation I jabbed the pen as hard as I could beneath her chin. I got halfway deep before it stuck. After a few seconds of lingering there, blood flooded from the wound and her legs gave out beneath her. She fell into my arms.

I lowered her down to the floor, blood washing over my hands like water. She couldn't breathe. She looked at me, panic setting in her eyes. As I looked on, all the rage and hate I had felt for her began to drain. In that moment I understood why she was the way she was. I saw the scars slashed on her face and thought about the horror she had to go through to acquire them. Most of all, I understood that to survive, you had to kill, and when you kill, you change. 

Over years of fending for herself, she had changed, and as I watched her eyes roll up and felt her body shift from stiff to limp, I realized was changing too.