Post by The Anarchist on Aug 29, 2016 1:35:19 GMT -5
[POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING: There is verbal and physical abuse against a woman in this. While written for effect, I felt the need to issue a warning about it.]
“Every single one of you has a past. That no longer matters. What does matter is how society spat on and threw you away like garbage headed to a landfill. I offer you salvation from the world. In return, I request unwavering loyalty. To us and to each other. Fear no longer brothers and sisters, we are family now!”
***
“Who would ever want to hurt something so adorable as a bunny rabbit?”
“Bad people, Phoebe.”
“Bad people?”
“Yes. Like this poor excuse laying in his own blood. Come on. This isn’t our home any longer.”
Left alone with carnage at her feet, nineteen year old Phoebe Turner looked down at the man she had known as Dad. His blood stained the pink bunny costume she was currently dressed in. The same outfit that a certain “Christmas Story” made famous. For the youngest of Mr. Turner’s two girls, the outfit was not only an extension of her love for rabbits; It was also her escape from his brand of drunken, misplaced abuse.
“Bad daddy! No one ever hurts my bunnies. I hope...” her words dripped with the same precocious innocence of a six year old. But her continuation would sound like the rage of a grown woman who has been crossed, “I hope you ROT in HELL you miserable son of a bitch!”
THE DAY BEFORE
January 3, 2016
Ava-Juliet Turner was a struggling, twenty-six year old high school graduate living at home with her father, Edwin, and younger sister Phoebe. The job prospects for those without a college degree weren’t exactly the best, and while she was bright enough to carve a niche for herself, the cards that had been shuffled and dealt were in the house’s favor. Their dad paid next to no attention to his daughters, unless it was to demonstrate (in his words) “A woman’s place to serve” be it with degrading language or enforced with physical violence.
The Turners lived in the same Santa Ana, California abode for the last thirty years. Edwin wasn’t always the abusive caretaker that he would later erode into becoming. After suffering a debilitating back injury at work and with little supplemental income to cover the loss of his job, Edwin turned to a steady dose of percocets with a six-pack chaser to compensate. The girls mother, Marie, had been killed in a car accident several years prior. Had she still been alive, little doubt was cast between the sisters that he would ever be allowed to get away with what he was doing.
“More tea, Mr. Daffodil?” she really didn’t care about gender identities.
Phoebe sat on the floor in her bedroom with a plastic table set between her and a plush rabbit for an imaginary tea party. Still in her pajama’s, Phoebe has her light brown hair tied in pigtails. A warm smile stretched across her face as she hummed wistfully while pouring “tea” into the faux cups set for a guest of two. Along the walls were tons and tons of rabbit related decoration. Her love for the animal started in childhood when she saw them in a pet store one day and “HAD to have one, because they are so cute!”
Her dream as she once said was to be a veterinarian and to own “hundreds of bunnies!” to which Ava-Juliet (or AJ for short) would reply, “You picked the right pet for that dream, kiddo.” It was a sisterly bond that had always been strong and further deepened as they got older. Where there was Ava-Juliet, there was Phoebe. She swore to herself and to her sister that no harm would ever befell her. And it was a promise she took dead seriously.
“AJJJ!” Phoebe belted with all of her little heart “Where are you?! Your tea is getting cold!” she had decided to set an extra spot after thinking about it. If she wasn’t thirsty, that was okay. “Politeness never killed anyone.” she paused to ponder “No. No. I don’t think it ever did. At least that’s what Momma told...”
Phoebe’s eyes became sullen and wet at the corners. She sniffled and sighed to herself. “Me.”
“You have to be a big girl about this. Don’t cry, Phoebe.”
“I-I-can’t help it! Momma loved me. Daddy...” her words were about to get more stark in contrast and tone. “loves to hit me. He did this to her! He killed momma! I hate him. I HATE him. I FUCKING HATE HIM!!!”
Phoebe now yanked her pigtails lose. Her nails were like miniature shovels digging in soft dirt as reality was fast slipping from her. Her teeth clenched, her muscles tightened as a full tantrum was on. To the floor she threw herself down, kicking and screaming in anguish.
“Stop it, Phoebe. NOW!” Mr. Daffodil’s voice reached through the synapses in Phoebe’s brain as she talked to herself through him. “We were having such a lovely party. Come on now. Cheer up.”
Phoebe’s inner child was beginning to re-emerge as she sat in a huff. Ever so gently, she uses her right hand to brush her hair back into pigtails, all the while wishing they were braided. Wiping her eyes and flashing another smile, she went back to her activity with a giddy nod as if nothing had just happened.
“More tea, Mr. Daffodil?”
***
“AJJJ!” her voice was distant “Where are you?! Your tea is getting cold!”
“For the love of Jesus and Mary, is your sister playing with herself again? Fuck. Women were put on this god given Earth to---”
“Dad, don’t START! She’s not hurting anybody. And for your pork laden information, a WOMAN gave birth to you. I know Grandma---"
Edwin had at least a cool buck-fifty on Ava-Juliet, so the fight was really one sided. AJ never had a chance to finish talking about his mother. His fist wouldn’t allow it. The days were long gone of open hand slaps. Now it was times of a human club going for the distance. She was fortunate this time, as he didn’t put enough pepper behind the thump. But it kissed her cheek and spun her back towards the sink. Lucky for her he wasn’t going to try a second time after seeing dishes that still in the suds.
“You don’t ever talk down to me! It takes the sperm from a MAN to create you. The egg inside of ya’ll are just like women themselves: waiting for the right amount of penetration to get the job done!!”
AJ while caressing her latest shade of red stared a hole right through him. Her hazel eyes partially camouflaged by chestnut hair. Her body shook both from anger and from the stinging offense she took to the sexist remarks. After a disgusting belch and olympic crushed can shooting, Edwin sat his portly self up so that he could (in typical guy fashion) scratch his balls. AJ was convinced that he would ask her to do it for him, only...in further inappropriate way.
“I have to go out. Make sure this house is cleaned up before I get back or you’ll be mopping floors, scrubbing the toilet and washing dishes with your tongue! Do I make myself clear?”
[“Oh this house will be cleaned alright you pig faced, fat fuck. With your BLOOD!”
AJ laughed to herself, envisioning the very moment she puts buckshot into his guts. The sounds of him pleading. Apologizing. Admitting that women were equal to men as he bled out. Every single word and sound bringing her that much more happiness as she goes through a box of shells to send her father to the Reaper himself.]
“DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!”
He was now pressed against her. The rank stench of beer on his breath combined with the greasy sweat oozing off his clothes snapped her out of her daydream. She clenched the counter, wishing she had enough strength to turn around and rip his head off. She had better answer she thought to herself…
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Sir.”
“Louder.”
“YES SIR!”
“I can’t HEAR YOU, bitch!”
This time he grabbed AJ by her neck and turned her head at an uncomfortable angle. The flash of anger in his eyes and in his tone was full tilt. AJ looked for a way out of his grip but wasn’t finding any success. Phoebe by this point was standing just behind the kitchen wall. Her face partially cloaked by the drab and peeling wallpaper which once had vibrancy. AJ spotted her and had to motion for her to go back. If she hadn’t...there was little doubt Pheebs would snap. Not only in her mind, but her father’s neck.
“I SAID YES SIR, GODDAMMIT! SIR, YES SIR!”
“That’s good. That’s real nice.” Edwin finally relinquished his daughter. AJ quickly found herself kissing the unswept floor as she favored her neck. Air returned to her lungs, the pain would eventually subside. “He’s getting worse” she thought to herself.
“And tell Phoebe to get her fingers out of her cooch. It’s not a bowling ball! Think I might want RABBIT STEW for dinner tonight.”
Taking possession of his car keys, Edwin stomps through the house and eventually leaves the property, belching a second time to offend the nature and neighbors outside. AJ angrily picked herself back up and threw a few phantom middle fingers in the direction he was driving off in.
“One of these days I’m going to use your fucking head to knock some pins over...” AJ grumbled to herself.
“He threatened to make rabbit stew.”
She heard.
“He threatened...” reality was beginning to blur “to make...”
AJ quickly rushed over to Phoebe, her arms wrapping around her in an attempt to keep her rage in check. Both bodies were beginning to tremble. “RABBIT STEW! I’ll fucking skin his hyde and sell it as a throw rug before if EVER tries!”
“Shh. No one is going to hurt your rabbits, I promise. And no one is going to hurt us ever again.”
***
THE NIGHT OF
January 5
The crescendo had hit it’s peak. Edwin didn’t return the night he went out. No doubt on a binge to drink and continue to lay the blame for his ills at the feet of the world. When it came to Edwin Turner, responsibility for his actions was not possible. Neither were the words “last call” when he did frequent his favorite watering holes.
Ava-Juliet and Phoebe lay in wait on the night of his departure. Big sister had managed to calm the waters, reassuring profusely that her bunnies were perfectly safe. There was only so much that could be taken before something had to give. That night was meant to be the dam breaking.
He also didn’t come home on the fourth. No phone call. No nothing. “Maybe he died like Momma” quipped Phoebe at one point, quickly biting her tongue after the words left. The notion wasn’t far fetched and deep down, AJ hoped that were true.
It wasn’t meant to be. Fate wouldn’t allow him to get off that easy. Winter’s breath swept through the Spanish inspired Orange County city. Night had fallen and going off the digital numbers, was close to eight pm before Edwin Turner would drive his Ford back into the oil stained driveway. The lights were off inside. Somewhere in the darkness the girls hid.
“This is it, Pheebs. The start of a new life.” she was stone cold in her explanation.
“Hehe, Mr. Daffodil says get him” Phoebe replied with a squeaky baby voice. Her next words were not. “I will. I promise I will.”
SLAM.
The sound of a rusty driver’s door closing and the same heavy footsteps approaching the front door. Fumbling for the keys to unlock it, Edwin could faintly be heard muttering his typical brand of male chauvinism. But he managed to find the one needed (through blurred vision no doubt). Once he walked inside and shut the door, the next light he would see was a quick flash after a nail studded baseball bat said HELLO to his face. With a loud grunt and thud against the door, he would continue to be pummeled time after time to make sure he was kept down.
Light would finally emerge.
Ava-Juliet had dipped into the Sherri Moon Zombie “Lords of Salem” wardrobe. Phoebe was in the “pink nightmare” rabbit costume that was gifted to Ralphie in A Christmas Story. The girls continued to tenderize the man they once knew as their father. But these strikes were as personal as they got and no motion was wasted.
It spilled over like lava from a volcano.
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU DAD!” roared AJ. “No wait. You said bitch. You called me a BITCH!” her strikes moved up to what was left of his head. “WHO’S THE BITCH NOW?!”
AJ hands off the weapon so that Phoebe could have her turn. With manic glee she takes it, steps over Edwin’s prone, bloodied body and raises it high above her head.
“Who would ever want to hurt something so adorable as a bunny rabbit?”
“Bad people, Phoebe.”
“Bad people?”
“Yes. Like this poor excuse laying in his own blood. Come on. This isn’t our home any longer.”
AJ walked away with the satisfaction she had got him. For every word of abuse ever thrown at her, her sister, their mom or women in general, she paid him back in full. His fists would no longer be able to hit them. Hurt them. Beat on them as if they were human punching bags instead of beings.
“Bad daddy! No one ever hurts my bunnies. I hope...” her words dripped with the same precocious innocence of a six year old. But her continuation would sound like the rage of a grown woman who has been crossed, “I hope you ROT in HELL you miserable son of a bitch!!”
It was the coup de grace. The spiked bat split his head open like it was a ripe cantaloupe making contact with the floor. His blood splashed the white belly of the costume’s fabric. That normally would upset Phoebe. But not now. Not for a moment like this. This was the decisive moment she wanted to take. He no longer was moving. There were no final words. He didn’t deserve to go out on his own terms.
He deserved exactly what he got.
“I got him! I got him! I got him” she skipped as her inner child did the talking once more. It was as if she had just played a game of hide-and-seek rather than help commit murder.
After they cleaned things the best they could and gathered the belongings they decided to keep, Ava-Juliet and Phoebe found themselves homeless and sitting in a lone booth at Pop’s Cafe the next morning. They paid no mind to the hustle and bustle of the strangers that came and went. For her part, Phoebe kept busy by coloring the back of a placemat, humming away carefree as if what happened the night before had never existed. AJ glared at her near empty coffee cup and cherry pie crumbs. Reality was beginning to sink in for her, but it was too late to go back and change it now. Not that she would have.
“What do we do now?” she asks herself “Oh god...what if they find out?”
“They won’t.”
The voice wasn’t from Phoebe. She was still entertaining herself. The voice wasn’t even female. It came from an occupant at the counter. His head was cocked in their direction. A stranger had been eavesdropping on what AJ had thought was quiet enough to go unheard.
“Excuse me?”
The strange man spins his body around so that he may give his undivided attention to them. A thick beard blanketed his face while his long, brown hair dangled over his other facial features. Clad in black, the stranger smirks at the question.
“I said...they won’t. Not...if you trust me. Trust us.”
It was Seromine (although no one knew him as such at that time). “We can help you out. We know the truth, even if you don’t know who we are.”
“You’re right I don’t. And there is no ‘we’ because all I see is you. Thanks, but no thanks. We’ll be fine.”
“Oh I highly doubt that child.” Destiny was now positioned right behind AJ in another booth “I promise we mean no harm to you. We’ve been watching. Hearing. Planning. Much as you had.”
Seromine brings himself over to his wife. The intrusion has garnered the attention of Phoebe who sat paused with a pink crayon in one hand and clenched fist with her other. AJ was startled (rightfully so) and on guard as these strange people presumed to know about her and her sisters personal business. Without so much as another thought given to them, she turns around, “Come on Phoebe. We’ve got to go.”
Before they could hastily retreat and depart, Seromine offered another piece of advice for them. His hope was that it was enough of a sell to at least warrant a listen. The words themselves were said with enough of a whisper so that other patrons were unable to pick up on it.
“Every night Luna rises to watch over everyone. You have until she slumbers twice to decide. Should you decline, you’ll be left to this dog eat dog world and taken away from one another forever by a court of law!”
It worked. At least on Phoebe who gulped and mouthed the words “taken away?” AJ was more quizzical about it. She tried to force herself into believing he was still full of shit. But his words didn’t fit that puzzle. “Who are you?” she asked.
Seromine and Destiny eyed one another. Her smile was beginning to widen, while his demeanor was that of someone who knew they had won. He answered with a single word, “Salvation.”
The four would spend the rest of the day in a more safer, private environment so that they could further explain themselves to the sisters. Talks of the murder and bunny rabbits were of course at the forefront, the latter was an easy sell and especially with the two strangers having children. Fears were placated as Seromine and Destiny were very serious about offering help and a new way of life. No law would come looking where they left Anaheim for. Not only that, Ava-Juliet and Phoebe would finally receive the love and respect that had been lacking for so long.
And the rest as they say, is history; Lylyth (Ava-Juliet) and Effix (Phoebe) were the first two to join.
***
SEROMINE’S EFFIGIES
“A born myth, the former International Champion and the newest inductee into the Hall of Fame all walk into the ring as a team. They walk out of the ring a trifecta of losers, because the two Razor Blades, drag down the walking cliché like an anchor.”
Seromine gazes at the flames emanating out of the bonfire pit. Behind the glow is his version of the International Title. Sitting around the circle are the other members of Salvation, a coined team name decided on in the time following the latest Trauma. It’s a crisp night in Labyrinth Grove. For someone who had just been blindsided, Seromine was strangely calm about the whole matter. Whether that was good or bad is a matter of interpretation. With his hands out to his sides, he walks slowly around the circle, placing his hand upon the heads of everyone in passing.
“But you have to give it to Brenna Gordon. She pulled a fast one on us and in her own pathetic little way, got some sort of retribution over something she decided she wanted to be a part of. Never mind the fact it was none of her business. The little girl thought she’d take up with Nathan and Kelli in some sort of “look at me!” pact of solidarity. She’s as pathetic as the hollow words that she speaks. But...”
Seromine pauses just to the right of his displayed human title. “I can’t argue that she’s a worthy challenger and has had an early level of success. No doubt our individual paths will cross again at a later date and she WILL pay dearly for her decision. It won’t be about retaining my championship. No. She’s going to be target practice for when the Magician and his Harlot decide to come out of hiding. Too bad, Myth. You could have been special.”
Seromine rips his morbid display off of it’s cross and slings the mock body over his shoulder. He then turns around and storms back front and center to continue addressing his group.
“One Ninety-Eight, Brothers and Sisters, will place our newfound ally and current North American Champion as one partner, and the man of BONES as the second!”
THE DARKNESS! THE BLACK WIDOW and BONES!
“I’ve wasted too much time addressing the Momma’s girl, ignoring the fact she fucking had the nerve to call me by my first name. Andy D for the third time will stand on the opposite side from us. It didn’t go well the first time. He lost his title the second time. And well...we return back to the verse, it’s the same as the first. The D in his name will be for defeated once again, further pushing him back into the doldrums of obscurity. Such a pity. That reminds me. Wasn’t ‘Crazy Boy’ part of Nathan’s failed squad, (un)Stable? The same one Alexa had the good sense to rid herself of?”
Cackles of various pitch echo amongst the guarding trees. The group is given the sign to rise and form their prayer circle around the fire. Upon further notice, mock scarecrows of the three opponents are stacked on top of one another, partially concealed by kindling.
“WE are eternal. The Earth realm could send every military force in the history of mankind at us and what would happen is mass décor to line our kingdom with. What WE want and WILL do, no one can stop or take from us. Society shall know truth at the very moment we sever them from life as they live it.
Not a single one of PCW’s so-called ‘heroes’ are a threat to our way of life. Our message. Our truth. WE are the keepers of the flock and by our words, by our actions, they shall follow, until a date of mass slaughter has been determined. Rejoice my brothers! Rejoice my sisters! We are the Lords of Labyrinth Grove and the light to the lead the way towards Salvation!”
Closing out the ceremony is a ritual dance to pay tribute to the three Elder Mothers spoken about in the inner circle. It’s a celebration that lasts well into the night.
“Every single one of you has a past. That no longer matters. What does matter is how society spat on and threw you away like garbage headed to a landfill. I offer you salvation from the world. In return, I request unwavering loyalty. To us and to each other. Fear no longer brothers and sisters, we are family now!”
***
“Who would ever want to hurt something so adorable as a bunny rabbit?”
“Bad people, Phoebe.”
“Bad people?”
“Yes. Like this poor excuse laying in his own blood. Come on. This isn’t our home any longer.”
Left alone with carnage at her feet, nineteen year old Phoebe Turner looked down at the man she had known as Dad. His blood stained the pink bunny costume she was currently dressed in. The same outfit that a certain “Christmas Story” made famous. For the youngest of Mr. Turner’s two girls, the outfit was not only an extension of her love for rabbits; It was also her escape from his brand of drunken, misplaced abuse.
“Bad daddy! No one ever hurts my bunnies. I hope...” her words dripped with the same precocious innocence of a six year old. But her continuation would sound like the rage of a grown woman who has been crossed, “I hope you ROT in HELL you miserable son of a bitch!”
THE DAY BEFORE
January 3, 2016
Ava-Juliet Turner was a struggling, twenty-six year old high school graduate living at home with her father, Edwin, and younger sister Phoebe. The job prospects for those without a college degree weren’t exactly the best, and while she was bright enough to carve a niche for herself, the cards that had been shuffled and dealt were in the house’s favor. Their dad paid next to no attention to his daughters, unless it was to demonstrate (in his words) “A woman’s place to serve” be it with degrading language or enforced with physical violence.
The Turners lived in the same Santa Ana, California abode for the last thirty years. Edwin wasn’t always the abusive caretaker that he would later erode into becoming. After suffering a debilitating back injury at work and with little supplemental income to cover the loss of his job, Edwin turned to a steady dose of percocets with a six-pack chaser to compensate. The girls mother, Marie, had been killed in a car accident several years prior. Had she still been alive, little doubt was cast between the sisters that he would ever be allowed to get away with what he was doing.
“More tea, Mr. Daffodil?” she really didn’t care about gender identities.
Phoebe sat on the floor in her bedroom with a plastic table set between her and a plush rabbit for an imaginary tea party. Still in her pajama’s, Phoebe has her light brown hair tied in pigtails. A warm smile stretched across her face as she hummed wistfully while pouring “tea” into the faux cups set for a guest of two. Along the walls were tons and tons of rabbit related decoration. Her love for the animal started in childhood when she saw them in a pet store one day and “HAD to have one, because they are so cute!”
Her dream as she once said was to be a veterinarian and to own “hundreds of bunnies!” to which Ava-Juliet (or AJ for short) would reply, “You picked the right pet for that dream, kiddo.” It was a sisterly bond that had always been strong and further deepened as they got older. Where there was Ava-Juliet, there was Phoebe. She swore to herself and to her sister that no harm would ever befell her. And it was a promise she took dead seriously.
“AJJJ!” Phoebe belted with all of her little heart “Where are you?! Your tea is getting cold!” she had decided to set an extra spot after thinking about it. If she wasn’t thirsty, that was okay. “Politeness never killed anyone.” she paused to ponder “No. No. I don’t think it ever did. At least that’s what Momma told...”
Phoebe’s eyes became sullen and wet at the corners. She sniffled and sighed to herself. “Me.”
“You have to be a big girl about this. Don’t cry, Phoebe.”
“I-I-can’t help it! Momma loved me. Daddy...” her words were about to get more stark in contrast and tone. “loves to hit me. He did this to her! He killed momma! I hate him. I HATE him. I FUCKING HATE HIM!!!”
Phoebe now yanked her pigtails lose. Her nails were like miniature shovels digging in soft dirt as reality was fast slipping from her. Her teeth clenched, her muscles tightened as a full tantrum was on. To the floor she threw herself down, kicking and screaming in anguish.
“Stop it, Phoebe. NOW!” Mr. Daffodil’s voice reached through the synapses in Phoebe’s brain as she talked to herself through him. “We were having such a lovely party. Come on now. Cheer up.”
Phoebe’s inner child was beginning to re-emerge as she sat in a huff. Ever so gently, she uses her right hand to brush her hair back into pigtails, all the while wishing they were braided. Wiping her eyes and flashing another smile, she went back to her activity with a giddy nod as if nothing had just happened.
“More tea, Mr. Daffodil?”
***
“AJJJ!” her voice was distant “Where are you?! Your tea is getting cold!”
“For the love of Jesus and Mary, is your sister playing with herself again? Fuck. Women were put on this god given Earth to---”
“Dad, don’t START! She’s not hurting anybody. And for your pork laden information, a WOMAN gave birth to you. I know Grandma---"
Edwin had at least a cool buck-fifty on Ava-Juliet, so the fight was really one sided. AJ never had a chance to finish talking about his mother. His fist wouldn’t allow it. The days were long gone of open hand slaps. Now it was times of a human club going for the distance. She was fortunate this time, as he didn’t put enough pepper behind the thump. But it kissed her cheek and spun her back towards the sink. Lucky for her he wasn’t going to try a second time after seeing dishes that still in the suds.
“You don’t ever talk down to me! It takes the sperm from a MAN to create you. The egg inside of ya’ll are just like women themselves: waiting for the right amount of penetration to get the job done!!”
AJ while caressing her latest shade of red stared a hole right through him. Her hazel eyes partially camouflaged by chestnut hair. Her body shook both from anger and from the stinging offense she took to the sexist remarks. After a disgusting belch and olympic crushed can shooting, Edwin sat his portly self up so that he could (in typical guy fashion) scratch his balls. AJ was convinced that he would ask her to do it for him, only...in further inappropriate way.
“I have to go out. Make sure this house is cleaned up before I get back or you’ll be mopping floors, scrubbing the toilet and washing dishes with your tongue! Do I make myself clear?”
[“Oh this house will be cleaned alright you pig faced, fat fuck. With your BLOOD!”
AJ laughed to herself, envisioning the very moment she puts buckshot into his guts. The sounds of him pleading. Apologizing. Admitting that women were equal to men as he bled out. Every single word and sound bringing her that much more happiness as she goes through a box of shells to send her father to the Reaper himself.]
“DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!”
He was now pressed against her. The rank stench of beer on his breath combined with the greasy sweat oozing off his clothes snapped her out of her daydream. She clenched the counter, wishing she had enough strength to turn around and rip his head off. She had better answer she thought to herself…
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Sir.”
“Louder.”
“YES SIR!”
“I can’t HEAR YOU, bitch!”
This time he grabbed AJ by her neck and turned her head at an uncomfortable angle. The flash of anger in his eyes and in his tone was full tilt. AJ looked for a way out of his grip but wasn’t finding any success. Phoebe by this point was standing just behind the kitchen wall. Her face partially cloaked by the drab and peeling wallpaper which once had vibrancy. AJ spotted her and had to motion for her to go back. If she hadn’t...there was little doubt Pheebs would snap. Not only in her mind, but her father’s neck.
“I SAID YES SIR, GODDAMMIT! SIR, YES SIR!”
“That’s good. That’s real nice.” Edwin finally relinquished his daughter. AJ quickly found herself kissing the unswept floor as she favored her neck. Air returned to her lungs, the pain would eventually subside. “He’s getting worse” she thought to herself.
“And tell Phoebe to get her fingers out of her cooch. It’s not a bowling ball! Think I might want RABBIT STEW for dinner tonight.”
Taking possession of his car keys, Edwin stomps through the house and eventually leaves the property, belching a second time to offend the nature and neighbors outside. AJ angrily picked herself back up and threw a few phantom middle fingers in the direction he was driving off in.
“One of these days I’m going to use your fucking head to knock some pins over...” AJ grumbled to herself.
“He threatened to make rabbit stew.”
She heard.
“He threatened...” reality was beginning to blur “to make...”
AJ quickly rushed over to Phoebe, her arms wrapping around her in an attempt to keep her rage in check. Both bodies were beginning to tremble. “RABBIT STEW! I’ll fucking skin his hyde and sell it as a throw rug before if EVER tries!”
“Shh. No one is going to hurt your rabbits, I promise. And no one is going to hurt us ever again.”
***
THE NIGHT OF
January 5
The crescendo had hit it’s peak. Edwin didn’t return the night he went out. No doubt on a binge to drink and continue to lay the blame for his ills at the feet of the world. When it came to Edwin Turner, responsibility for his actions was not possible. Neither were the words “last call” when he did frequent his favorite watering holes.
Ava-Juliet and Phoebe lay in wait on the night of his departure. Big sister had managed to calm the waters, reassuring profusely that her bunnies were perfectly safe. There was only so much that could be taken before something had to give. That night was meant to be the dam breaking.
He also didn’t come home on the fourth. No phone call. No nothing. “Maybe he died like Momma” quipped Phoebe at one point, quickly biting her tongue after the words left. The notion wasn’t far fetched and deep down, AJ hoped that were true.
It wasn’t meant to be. Fate wouldn’t allow him to get off that easy. Winter’s breath swept through the Spanish inspired Orange County city. Night had fallen and going off the digital numbers, was close to eight pm before Edwin Turner would drive his Ford back into the oil stained driveway. The lights were off inside. Somewhere in the darkness the girls hid.
“This is it, Pheebs. The start of a new life.” she was stone cold in her explanation.
“Hehe, Mr. Daffodil says get him” Phoebe replied with a squeaky baby voice. Her next words were not. “I will. I promise I will.”
SLAM.
The sound of a rusty driver’s door closing and the same heavy footsteps approaching the front door. Fumbling for the keys to unlock it, Edwin could faintly be heard muttering his typical brand of male chauvinism. But he managed to find the one needed (through blurred vision no doubt). Once he walked inside and shut the door, the next light he would see was a quick flash after a nail studded baseball bat said HELLO to his face. With a loud grunt and thud against the door, he would continue to be pummeled time after time to make sure he was kept down.
Light would finally emerge.
Ava-Juliet had dipped into the Sherri Moon Zombie “Lords of Salem” wardrobe. Phoebe was in the “pink nightmare” rabbit costume that was gifted to Ralphie in A Christmas Story. The girls continued to tenderize the man they once knew as their father. But these strikes were as personal as they got and no motion was wasted.
It spilled over like lava from a volcano.
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU DAD!” roared AJ. “No wait. You said bitch. You called me a BITCH!” her strikes moved up to what was left of his head. “WHO’S THE BITCH NOW?!”
AJ hands off the weapon so that Phoebe could have her turn. With manic glee she takes it, steps over Edwin’s prone, bloodied body and raises it high above her head.
“Who would ever want to hurt something so adorable as a bunny rabbit?”
“Bad people, Phoebe.”
“Bad people?”
“Yes. Like this poor excuse laying in his own blood. Come on. This isn’t our home any longer.”
AJ walked away with the satisfaction she had got him. For every word of abuse ever thrown at her, her sister, their mom or women in general, she paid him back in full. His fists would no longer be able to hit them. Hurt them. Beat on them as if they were human punching bags instead of beings.
“Bad daddy! No one ever hurts my bunnies. I hope...” her words dripped with the same precocious innocence of a six year old. But her continuation would sound like the rage of a grown woman who has been crossed, “I hope you ROT in HELL you miserable son of a bitch!!”
It was the coup de grace. The spiked bat split his head open like it was a ripe cantaloupe making contact with the floor. His blood splashed the white belly of the costume’s fabric. That normally would upset Phoebe. But not now. Not for a moment like this. This was the decisive moment she wanted to take. He no longer was moving. There were no final words. He didn’t deserve to go out on his own terms.
He deserved exactly what he got.
“I got him! I got him! I got him” she skipped as her inner child did the talking once more. It was as if she had just played a game of hide-and-seek rather than help commit murder.
After they cleaned things the best they could and gathered the belongings they decided to keep, Ava-Juliet and Phoebe found themselves homeless and sitting in a lone booth at Pop’s Cafe the next morning. They paid no mind to the hustle and bustle of the strangers that came and went. For her part, Phoebe kept busy by coloring the back of a placemat, humming away carefree as if what happened the night before had never existed. AJ glared at her near empty coffee cup and cherry pie crumbs. Reality was beginning to sink in for her, but it was too late to go back and change it now. Not that she would have.
“What do we do now?” she asks herself “Oh god...what if they find out?”
“They won’t.”
The voice wasn’t from Phoebe. She was still entertaining herself. The voice wasn’t even female. It came from an occupant at the counter. His head was cocked in their direction. A stranger had been eavesdropping on what AJ had thought was quiet enough to go unheard.
“Excuse me?”
The strange man spins his body around so that he may give his undivided attention to them. A thick beard blanketed his face while his long, brown hair dangled over his other facial features. Clad in black, the stranger smirks at the question.
“I said...they won’t. Not...if you trust me. Trust us.”
It was Seromine (although no one knew him as such at that time). “We can help you out. We know the truth, even if you don’t know who we are.”
“You’re right I don’t. And there is no ‘we’ because all I see is you. Thanks, but no thanks. We’ll be fine.”
“Oh I highly doubt that child.” Destiny was now positioned right behind AJ in another booth “I promise we mean no harm to you. We’ve been watching. Hearing. Planning. Much as you had.”
Seromine brings himself over to his wife. The intrusion has garnered the attention of Phoebe who sat paused with a pink crayon in one hand and clenched fist with her other. AJ was startled (rightfully so) and on guard as these strange people presumed to know about her and her sisters personal business. Without so much as another thought given to them, she turns around, “Come on Phoebe. We’ve got to go.”
Before they could hastily retreat and depart, Seromine offered another piece of advice for them. His hope was that it was enough of a sell to at least warrant a listen. The words themselves were said with enough of a whisper so that other patrons were unable to pick up on it.
“Every night Luna rises to watch over everyone. You have until she slumbers twice to decide. Should you decline, you’ll be left to this dog eat dog world and taken away from one another forever by a court of law!”
It worked. At least on Phoebe who gulped and mouthed the words “taken away?” AJ was more quizzical about it. She tried to force herself into believing he was still full of shit. But his words didn’t fit that puzzle. “Who are you?” she asked.
Seromine and Destiny eyed one another. Her smile was beginning to widen, while his demeanor was that of someone who knew they had won. He answered with a single word, “Salvation.”
The four would spend the rest of the day in a more safer, private environment so that they could further explain themselves to the sisters. Talks of the murder and bunny rabbits were of course at the forefront, the latter was an easy sell and especially with the two strangers having children. Fears were placated as Seromine and Destiny were very serious about offering help and a new way of life. No law would come looking where they left Anaheim for. Not only that, Ava-Juliet and Phoebe would finally receive the love and respect that had been lacking for so long.
And the rest as they say, is history; Lylyth (Ava-Juliet) and Effix (Phoebe) were the first two to join.
***
SEROMINE’S EFFIGIES
“A born myth, the former International Champion and the newest inductee into the Hall of Fame all walk into the ring as a team. They walk out of the ring a trifecta of losers, because the two Razor Blades, drag down the walking cliché like an anchor.”
Seromine gazes at the flames emanating out of the bonfire pit. Behind the glow is his version of the International Title. Sitting around the circle are the other members of Salvation, a coined team name decided on in the time following the latest Trauma. It’s a crisp night in Labyrinth Grove. For someone who had just been blindsided, Seromine was strangely calm about the whole matter. Whether that was good or bad is a matter of interpretation. With his hands out to his sides, he walks slowly around the circle, placing his hand upon the heads of everyone in passing.
“But you have to give it to Brenna Gordon. She pulled a fast one on us and in her own pathetic little way, got some sort of retribution over something she decided she wanted to be a part of. Never mind the fact it was none of her business. The little girl thought she’d take up with Nathan and Kelli in some sort of “look at me!” pact of solidarity. She’s as pathetic as the hollow words that she speaks. But...”
Seromine pauses just to the right of his displayed human title. “I can’t argue that she’s a worthy challenger and has had an early level of success. No doubt our individual paths will cross again at a later date and she WILL pay dearly for her decision. It won’t be about retaining my championship. No. She’s going to be target practice for when the Magician and his Harlot decide to come out of hiding. Too bad, Myth. You could have been special.”
Seromine rips his morbid display off of it’s cross and slings the mock body over his shoulder. He then turns around and storms back front and center to continue addressing his group.
“One Ninety-Eight, Brothers and Sisters, will place our newfound ally and current North American Champion as one partner, and the man of BONES as the second!”
THE DARKNESS! THE BLACK WIDOW and BONES!
“I’ve wasted too much time addressing the Momma’s girl, ignoring the fact she fucking had the nerve to call me by my first name. Andy D for the third time will stand on the opposite side from us. It didn’t go well the first time. He lost his title the second time. And well...we return back to the verse, it’s the same as the first. The D in his name will be for defeated once again, further pushing him back into the doldrums of obscurity. Such a pity. That reminds me. Wasn’t ‘Crazy Boy’ part of Nathan’s failed squad, (un)Stable? The same one Alexa had the good sense to rid herself of?”
Cackles of various pitch echo amongst the guarding trees. The group is given the sign to rise and form their prayer circle around the fire. Upon further notice, mock scarecrows of the three opponents are stacked on top of one another, partially concealed by kindling.
“WE are eternal. The Earth realm could send every military force in the history of mankind at us and what would happen is mass décor to line our kingdom with. What WE want and WILL do, no one can stop or take from us. Society shall know truth at the very moment we sever them from life as they live it.
Not a single one of PCW’s so-called ‘heroes’ are a threat to our way of life. Our message. Our truth. WE are the keepers of the flock and by our words, by our actions, they shall follow, until a date of mass slaughter has been determined. Rejoice my brothers! Rejoice my sisters! We are the Lords of Labyrinth Grove and the light to the lead the way towards Salvation!”
Closing out the ceremony is a ritual dance to pay tribute to the three Elder Mothers spoken about in the inner circle. It’s a celebration that lasts well into the night.