Harrowing (13 page)

PART II

The year Brionna turned eighteen, Momma and Dad died in a car accident. Dad was driving, pissed out of his mind as usual. It was a tragedy just waiting to happen. By happy coincidence, Brionna just happened to come of age shortly before, so automatically I passed into her custody.

With no one to control or restrain her, Brionna let loose with all her rage and fury and took out all her bile and demons on me. A day never went by when I wasn’t beaten black and blue by whatever instrument Brionna took to her fancy that day. Belts, baseball bats, boxing gloves, sticks. No object was too crude to satiate her needs. Nothing was below her. If she had nothing else at hand, even the fork from the dinner table was good enough for her.

Every night I dreamt of smashing in her face, the way I had done once before. But she’d learnt her lesson and now she never lowered her guard. She never took her eyes off me when she was awake and she slept with her bedroom door locked and bolted from the inside.

The only solution that occurred to me was to find a job and escape. The day I turned fifteen, I snagged a job cleaning pigpens at a farm just outside the city. Brionna started strutting around the house pinching her pretty, upturned nose with her fingers and peering down it at me with disdain, complaining that I stank worse than the filthiest porker alive. I was relieved, though, because it meant that at least her beatings stopped. She simply couldn’t stand coming close to me anymore.

When I’d saved enough money, I moved to my own apartment and cut off all contact with her. At last, I thought, I was free to live my own life, the way
I
wanted. With no threats hanging over my head anymore. No fear, no terror. My days were my own, to do with them as I pleased. When I came home at night, there was no one screaming insults at me. I could walk around the house without the dread of receiving a fist in my cheek. No more spankings with a belt. No more punishments of getting my face kicked in or my ribs bruised with Brionna’s boxing gloves.

I finished high school and won a scholarship to university. A degree with Honours in Business Administration led to an entry level position at Herbert and Mons Clothing Company. I settled down to roost there and started climbing the corporate ladder, making it to Vice President. It seemed I finally had it made. I lived an idyllic life, one most men could only dream of. My salary came in the high range. I owned a renovated mansion on Bedford Park. My relationship with Lulu was absolutely groovy, totally taking off.

Brionna and all the suffering and humiliation of my childhood belonged to the past.

What I didn’t expect, never would have anticipated in a million years, was that my past would never leave me alone. What I’d lived through in my first years would haunt me forever. Affect me forever.

And I had no idea just how deep my childhood had taken root inside me, festering within me and turning into something spinning way out of my control.

*

That night something woke me up. It was like an almost silent whoosh! Like a chill breeze that blows past you, almost without a sound, but you can feel it filling the air with dread. With horror. With something so terrible and terrifying that you know is about to attack you, that you just
know
you can’t escape. Something just waiting to pounce itself on you. To pile itself against you and dig its claws deep into your flesh, grab you by the throat and never let you go.

My eyelids flew open, and it was there. That pillar of fire. A flaming bush burning harsh and furious and unforgiving in the corner of my bedroom. The cavernous, unearthly voice of a god echoing about my room, filling my eardrums, condemning me, threatening me with the fires of eternal hell and damnation.

“Heed my voice, Bruno Jarvas,” the unfamiliar god declared, sonorous and yet filled with ice. “Obey my instructions. Do as I say, or unending agony and excruciating pain will be all you have to anticipate upon your unlamented demise from this carnal earthly life.”

I gaped at that
thing
in the corner of my room. My legs were shaking, my knees rattling straight together like a wind chime made of bones. My whole being shivered as if I’d been stricken by a raging fever. I clasped my bedsheet with numb fists and trembled in fear and awe before my god.

“Y-y-yes, I am here,” I cried. “And n-n-no, it would never occur to me to disobey you. Wh-what do you want from me?”

Laughter, cruel, chilling, filled the air. Resounded in my head. Bounced off the walls and ceiling and echoed about inside my head as if it were hollow, refusing to leave me in peace.

“You are a messenger, Bruno Jarvas. From now on, it will be your mission to announce the destiny of certain women to them. Women whom I will personally pick out from among my favourites and make evident to you. Women destined for greatness. It will be
your
calling to whisper this message to them.”

I nodded my head convulsively.

“Y-y-yes, of course. Whatever you say, my lord... my... my master. But... but how will I know which women you’re talking about? And what must I do to get your message across to them? And what message do you want me to tell them... exactly?”

A chuckle of arrogance and superiority. Of course. I realized no one could possibly surpass or overcome my god. This harsh, severe god that had somehow chosen
me
from among all other mortals.

“You will simply
know
the women when you see them,” it intoned, imperious. “As to how you will bring my message to them? That is why I have chosen
you
as my messenger, Bruno Jarvas. You figure it out. You may bring my message to them any way you wish. I leave the means up to you.”

The pillar flamed so fiercely it nearly singed my ceiling.

“Do as I say, or I will return, Bruno Jarvas.”

I glanced at my quivering fingers spreading sweaty patches across my bedsheets.

“And... and if I do everything you say... milord... my master. Does that mean you will leave me alone?”

I swore if it could that horrific being would have smirked.

“Yesss,” it hissed. “As long as I am pleased with you, you will not see me again. I shall leave you in peace.”

A tongue of fire, flaring high up to the ceiling and burning the plaster angrily. Blackened, jagged cracks snapped out across the white paint. Shards of smoking wood rained down on me, searing my face, singeing my hands and bed covers. Then the flame disappeared, leaving the room as cold and hollow as if nothing had ever happened. I flipped on the light, hysterical, wondering if I had perhaps hallucinated it all.

There was nothing on my bed. Nothing on my ceiling. No bits of plaster littered my bed covers.

I checked my hands. They were smooth, unblemished. No burn scars or marks of any sort.

I stumbled out of bed, nearly tripping over the trailing sheets and collapsing to the ground, and I crawled into the bathroom. I studied myself, bleary-eyed, in the mirror and splashed a sinkful of ice cold water all over my face. My skin was as fine and poreless as ever, marred only by the faint marks of incipient wrinkles. I spun my face this way and that, unable to avoid admiring what I saw in spite of the fright I’d just experienced.

As I turned to leave, my hand brushed against something rough and bumpy just underneath my ear. A sudden flash of red hot pain seared through me. I tilted my head, peeked underneath my ear.

There, barely visible, was the swollen red line of a recently-acquired burn.

Geri drummed her fingers across her desk as I delivered my status report to her. I didn’t need to go into the agency to talk about my new assignment. It wasn’t a requirement for me to continue working for them, and it was something I had never done before. But for some reason, I felt as if some sort of tacit agreement existed between Geri and me. It was as if she needed extra reassurance that I was still up to the job. That I still conserved my competence and capabilities.

“So, how are you getting on with Sandra Bleckley?” she asked, pretending to be all briskness and business. Her surreptitious glances at the movements of my hands and her intense scrutiny of my expression, however, betrayed her lack of confidence in me.

“Great!” I exclaimed, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “No, really, Geri. We get along a mint. She’s a cool boss.”

Geri nodded.

“Mmmhh-hhmmhh. And your co-workers? How are things with them?”

“Wonderful,” I chimed in on cue. “Haven’t got any problems with any of them.”

I thought about Ursula, but decided there was no point in mentioning her. It wasn’t like she was making my life impossible or anything like that, anyways.

“And...” Geri hesitated. I wondered what was up. “And, how about the men in the office? Everything smooth with them?”

So that was where she was headed.

I nodded and mimed a thumbs up.

“Just great,” I said. “And yes, there
are
a few men there. The Vice President, the CFO... But no problems with any of them. Things are just groovy.”

Geri studied my face carefully.

“No, really, Geri. You can trust me. I’m not a basket case,” I hastened to assure her. “And even though I really don’t think it’s necessary for me to tell you this, because I’m just fine, but yes, I
am
seeing a counsellor.”

Geri feigned surprise.

“You’re right, Annasuya. You really
don’t
need to tell me these details. I’ve never questioned your mental stability.”

She straightened my timesheets on her desk.

“Just as long as you fulfil all your duties without any problems. And if you
were
giving any problems, you can be sure Sandra would be on to me in about two seconds. But I haven’t heard a peep from her. Which means all is well.”

She smiled.

“The company is pleased with you. And they’ve leaked to me – and this is something I’m not really supposed to tell you yet, but I thought a boost would do you good.” She cleared her throat. “At any rate, they’ve suggested that if you keep up with your excellent performance, they might raise your salary in a month or so.”

Hugh barged across the room at that moment and draped himself awkwardly over Geri’s desk, plunking some sort of contraption painted a dull brown over her papers and scattering them about in droves. I remembered him from my last visit here. His spiky hair seemed to stick out more wildly than before, and his flowery, Hawaiian print shirt clashed with his tie-dyed loose cloth pants.

“What’s up, Hugh?” Geri bristled. “Can’t you see I’m busy? Can’t whatever it is wait until I’m finished?”

Hugh shook his head and chewed on his fingers.

“Some weirdo from Young Brothers is shrieking her head off at me on the phone,” he blustered out, half hysterical. “I can’t do anything about her. Says the clerk you sent her is a dodo. Demanded to speak to my superior immediately.”

Geri sighed.

“And check out this elevator,” he hastened to add. “I finished it just last night. It even goes up and down.” He jammed a finger over a button. “And dings on every floor, too.”

We gawked as the painted brown box lurched to life and started jerking its sullen way up the shaft, stopping at every finely-carved door and dinging. As an added measure, Hugh had also programmed a light to go on above each doorway when the lift arrived. Geri stared at it in fascination, tore her gaze away reluctantly.

“It’s awesome, Hugh,” she said with genuine respect, then sighed again. “Well, better get onto that call. I knew I shouldn’t have sent in that new girl. This is her first job ever, fresh out of high school.”

She cast an apologetic glance at me.

“You don’t mind, do you, Annasuya? If you’ll just excuse me for a minute, I have to take that call.”

I raised my hand.

“No problem, Geri.”

Geri hopped over to a nearby desk, far enough away that I wouldn’t hear her conversation. Hugh ogled at me and nudged at his thick glasses.

“I’ve seen you before,” he stammered. “You’re... you’re that really neat chick with the weird name, aren’t you?”

Well, if you’re trying to endear yourself to someone, I didn’t think calling their name weird was exactly the proper way to go about doing it. But I smiled at him anyways.

“Annasuya. My name is Annasuya Rose,” I said. “And that, um, apparatus is pretty clever. Did you make it yourself?”

He cracked an awkward grin.

“It’s nothing. Just a plaything, really.” He waved his hand in the air, feigning frivolity. But I could tell, from the way his eyes sparkled, that he was pleased. “Cos I couldn’t make anything elaborate to bring to work. I’ve got stuff a lot more complicated at home, though.”

He blinked his prominent brown eyes earnestly at me.

“Um. Nice name,” he muttered at last. “Why’d they give you such a name?”

I considered not answering such a stupid question.

“It’s Sanskrit,” I commented, and didn’t say anything more.

He stared even harder at me.

“Whuff, y-y-you don’t look Indian,” he stuttered.

I didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Julia, Geri’s boss, chose that opportune moment to wander over.

“Annasuya,” she cried with delight and grasped my hand in a heart-felt handshake. “So good to see you around. You’re doing better, I hope?”

I nodded, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Yes. Yes, everything’s great with me.”

Julia cast a disapproving look at Hugh.

“Did you want something?” she hinted.

Hugh shook his head and started slinking away.

“Nice... nice meeting you... um...” He gulped. “Sorry, I forgot your name?”

Julia glared at him.

“Sorry,” he repeated, grabbed his elevator and trailed away.

“So, Geri tells me you’ve got a new assignment.” Julia beamed at me. “How’s it working out?”

“Great, Julia.”

Julia’s eyes wandered over me, taking in my perky hairdo and rather puritan outfit.

“You look wonderful. But one suggestion.” She tugged at my loose-fitting dark slacks. “Baggy trousers aren’t in anymore, you know.” She chuckled.

I had to grin with her.

“You’re right,” I said.

“You know, there
are
ways to look fashionable and elegant while still retaining your... um, modesty,” she hinted discreetly.

This time I had to laugh aloud.

“I’m not suggesting skin-tight jeans,” she continued. “But a pair of straight-legged dress pants would work wonderfully in an office. They’re still conservative, modest. But they’ll help you look more in with the times. After all, we’re not living in The Little House on the Prairie anymore.”

I giggled and nodded in agreement.

Julia got to her feet, assuming her usual, confident stance.

“Well, I must run. But it was good seeing you around.”

She patted me on the shoulder succinctly and disappeared.

Geri returned a minute later. She flashed an overly optimistic smile at me.

“Good, Annasuya. Looks like everything is all in order with you,” she remarked. “Here, take a few more timesheets.”

She scooped up a pile and dumped them in my lap.

“I don’t need so many. I
do
make photocopies of them, you know.”

Geri waved her hand frivolously.

“Well, but you can never have too many. So, I’ll see you around. Right?”

I stood up, nodding.

“And of course, I’ll give you a call if and when they decide to raise your salary,” she continued, then turned her back, dismissing me already.

It was a relief to leave the agency.

*

Rudolph Verenich had located his gym in a sleazy neighbourhood at the end of Spadina Avenue, down near the waterfront, in one of the few original factory buildings still remaining. The compact brick structure oozing with mould and grime, apparently built during the heyday of the industrial era, was covered with rows of dingy windows that had probably never enjoyed the touch of a window-cleaner in the past twenty years or so. Hence, the gym was dark and gloomy and reeked of blocked drains and fetid water.

As usual, Rudolph drove us like a slave master. He made Jill, the middle-aged housewife, concentrate on pounding the daylights out of a punching bag during most of the class. Tina dropped her guard and the geek with the flaccid muscles, Barry Shulman, managed to hook her in the cheek with his elbow. Apparently it was a first for him, because he shrieked and jumped up and down flashing V gestures at everyone.

Rudolph positioned me to kick targets on the wall for most of the class. Finally, in a spasm of boredom, I dashed up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He stared at me in astonishment. Apparently I had broken some sort of unwritten rule.

“This is going too slow for me, Rudolph,” I said. “I want to learn how to defend myself
now.
Not thirty years from now, after some thug’s already killed me.”

Rudolph arched his eyebrows and tilted his head towards me sarcastically.

“Zo? You can’t even hit ze targets right and already you want advanced work? Who you think I am, Annasuya Adler? Jesus ze Christ? I can’t work miracles.”

I tossed my towel over my shoulder and began strolling towards the changing rooms.

“Don’t think your get-up’s all that fancy, Mr. Verenich,” I said. “If you can’t teach me what I want I’m going elsewhere.”

Rudolph stared after me for a moment, a stunned expression on his face. Then he dashed up to me and grabbed me by the shoulder. I spun around, furious, and angled him a hard kick to the side of his face. He gaped at me, his cheek flaring red underneath the coarse black beard.

“Ah, you dropped your guard, Mr. Verenich,” I told him.

He raised his fist, rage burning in his eyes, and aimed it at me. I dropped to my knees instinctively. After a moment of incredulity, Rudolph burst into raucous laughter. He waggled his finger at me like an academic delivering a lecture.

“Ah, I zee you are learning, Annasuya Adler.” He chuckled. “Zen you can’t deny you have learnt zomething here.”

He waved towards the door.

“Well, if you don’t believe in me, you are free to leave, Annasuya Adler. I am not a kidnapper. I don’t retain anyone here against zeir will.”

He hardened his face.

“But if you want to learn how I do it, you will stay here. Of your own free will.”

He stepped aside and nodded curtly, awaiting my decision.

I studied him for a minute. Then took a deep breath and plunged in, deciding to put him to the test.

“Mr. Verenich, what would you do if, say, oh, five burly men were to attack you at the same time?”

Rudolph merely arched his eyebrows at me again.

“Five men? Why five, Annasuya Adler?”

I shrugged.

“It’s just a number, that occurred to me.”

Rudolph nodded sagely.

“I have taken on five men at ze zame time before,” he replied. “I made zem mush. But zey were not trained martial artists.”

I paused, pretended to think things over.

“And what would you do if a man, bigger and taller than you, were to grab you from behind in a stranglehold and pull you up off your feet?”

Rudolph grinned.

“Zat would not happen!” he exclaimed. “Bigger zan me? Taller zan me? How zat happen? You kid me, do you? You pull my leg, Annasuya Adler. I am six feet tall.”

“But if it
did
happen?” I insisted. “You’re not the tallest person in the world.” Imaginations of Bruno towering over even a proudly well-trained Rudolph Verenich came to mind. “It could happen to
me.
Or to any one of us in the class.
We
are not six feet tall.”

I glanced around. All activity had stopped and everyone’s eyes were upon me. Rudolph licked his lips.

“Very well,” he replied at last. “Zomeone grab me in stranglehold, I duck down, flip person over my head onto his back.” He shrugged. “How you zay? Easy peasy?”

“And if he pulled you up off your feet?” I goaded at him.

“Zat would not happen. Zat
could
not happen,” he exclaimed in indignation. “I am six feet tall.”