The Savior Rises (15 page)

Wait a minute, she wasn’t even in school anymore, was she? She couldn’t remember anymore. Her eyes felt heavy now. She just wanted to sleep. Why wouldn’t Greg leave her alone? Why was he always hurting her? Everyone who ever tried to be her friend was killed or driven away.

She was always alone – alone with this monster. Everyone knew he was bad, they always told her, yet nobody protected her. She was left alone to fend for herself. Even her mother, who was supposed to be there for her, was gone. Her grandma was gone. She hadn’t even met her grandpa. She couldn’t trust her roommates.

She felt the life being sucked out of her at that moment, and everything went dark. She felt herself falling again, falling down into the darkness. She heard herself crying, but she knew nobody was listening. Even if they could hear her, nobody would help. She was all by herself. Greg was the only constant in her life, and he was worse than any demon she could imagine.

Maybe all men were gargoyles to a certain extent. Maybe the grey leathery skin was nothing more than camouflage, masking the satanic tendencies they all held inside their souls. There were two more days until her 21
^st
birthday. She wondered what surprises the current day might hold for her. What wonders would she discover when she awoke from her nightmare?

Stefani rolled over and opened her eyes. It was already 3:30 in the afternoon. She was still exhausted. How had she managed to sleep the entire day? She looked for a glass of water on her nightstand, but she must have forgotten to bring one with her when she went to sleep. Jesus, she had to get up quickly or she would be late for work.

There was a note lying on her bedside table from Staci.

Hey, if you can make it, we’re all going out dancing tonight at Ruby Skye. I know you have to work; but if you get off early, come and hang out.

How nice of Staci,
she thought. It was good having roommates you felt comfortable with. They didn’t go out that often together, but when they did, Stefani always had a good time. She quickly jumped in the shower, relaxing as the water washed over her hair and body. It was good to feel clean. The shower always seemed to wash the dirt off her body. Her skin always felt so dirty.

She wrapped the towel around her and opened the door. “AAAHHH!” she screamed as Matt’s face appeared in the mirror.

It was right there. She could’ve sworn it was him. She missed Matt. She wondered what he would be doing now if he were alive.

She wrapped her arms around her chest and headed back to her bedroom. As she closed the door, she noticed the new poster on the wall. A poster of Tijuana hung next to her poster of Bath and Ladispoli. Three places she’d never been to. She’d never been to any of these places. These were not her posters.

She found herself rocking on her bed now, rocking back and forth, clutching her knees against her chest as she chanted over and over again.

“These are not my posters. These are not my posters. Please, dear God, these are not my posters.”

She didn’t know if she were trying to convince herself or if she were attempting to convince the demons who seemed to be living in her house with her.

She was intent on not letting anything throw her off today. She knew she wasn’t in Tijuana yesterday, and she hadn’t met Aaron. Greg had killed him anyway, if she had met him. Greg had now killed three men in her life. She was beginning to understand he would never allow her to be close to any male. He’d killed everyone who was even the slightest bit nice to her.

She felt herself slipping again, so she got up and got ready for work. She remembered her doctor told her that routine was always important. If you force yourself to keep moving and keep functioning, then reality has a way of coming home. Reality, there is nothing sweeter than coming home to reality.

It eludes most of us as we fantasize about places we will never go and watch movies about things we will never do. Reality is just beyond our grasp as we live our mundane lives every single day, dreaming of something better, bigger, more…maybe just more.

Stefani decided to be a nurse this evening. Men really did like nurses. Somebody who was sworn to help people, all dressed in white, connoting purity. Isn’t it funny how men place such a high level of importance on purity? Yet, they want their women to be dirty at the same time. Doesn’t the contradiction ever register with men?

There were certain types of women you just didn’t bring home to mother. But those were the women men were the most attracted to. How many men stare at a woman who is slightly overweight, on the beach wearing a sundress, versus a size two woman with overinflated breasts and a thong? Men really were starting to make Stefani sick, and it all started with Greg’s hypocrisy.

She threw her nurse’s outfit into her bag and pulled her jeans on, wiggling her butt the final few inches as she pushed and pulled them over her nice round ass. She decided against wearing a bra and simply pulled on a T-shirt, covering that with her favorite maroon Southern Illinois Saluki sweatshirt.

She really should go shopping soon. Her clothes were beginning to look a little worn. No wonder she had trouble finding a boyfriend. You had to look the part of the young college girl if you wanted to find a young college boy.

She walked through the back door of The Gold Club where she’d worked the last couple of years and was greeted with the usual grunts. She didn’t hang out with any of these girls after work, but she tried to be as pleasant as she could while on the job. She realized she came off cold sometimes, but it was a cut-throat business. All of them chased the almighty dollar.

She slipped into her white fishnet stockings and pulled on her white skirt and her matching top. She couldn’t remember ever seeing a real nurse dressed quite this slutty, but this is what the audience desired. The shoes were the real kicker. Could a nurse really walk around in eight-inch plastic platform shoes? She didn’t think so.

She made her way out to the floor, waiting for her turn to go onstage. She slowly filtered herself amongst a group of girls standing over in one corner. It sometimes did pay to mingle.

“Anything happening tonight?” she asked.

“Not a darn thing,” a young brunette standing next to her responded. “It’s quiet as a church mouse.”

Stefani wondered how quiet church mice really were. She laughed to herself as she realized they had to be pretty damn quiet. The things that go on behind closed doors in religious buildings were enough to make the seediest strip club owner shrink in size. The hypocrisy didn’t elude her.

“What about that guy?” she asked, looking at a man sitting alone.  The sight of a man sitting solo in a strip club is unheard of. The only reason to hang out with strippers is to have them fawn all over you, and as a stripper, you want the cash. You can’t get any tips standing in a corner.

“He keeps waving everyone away,” she said. “He apparently wants to be all by his lonesome. It seems he might be looking for somebody.”

“He’s probably been waiting for me,” Stefani said as she sashayed over to his table.

“What a loser,” the brunette would be prostitute said to herself when Stefani moved out of earshot.

As Stefani sat down, she tried hard not to acknowledge the relevance of this day. Was it possible it was happening all over again? Was it really the same day? It was still only two days until her birthday. She’d met Dennis a few days ago, and now he was dead. She’d been dressed as a devil, not a nurse. Things were different, yet everything seemed like it was the same.

“Please don’t be Dennis. Please don’t be Dennis. Please don’t be Dennis.”

She kept whispering over and over again as she sat down.

“Hi, stranger,” she managed to get out of her mouth in a wimpy, unsure tone. She questioned everything in life. Nothing appeared to be as it was.  The people you expected to protect you were the very people who were most likely to hurt you. She wiped a tear away from her cheek as the man looked up.

“I’m not interested,” he said in a gruff manner, but Stefani was letting out a huge sigh of relief. It wasn’t Dennis. She felt her sanity returning. Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all.

Before she could collect her thoughts, he said, “Oh, my God, it’s you. You’re in danger. You have to come with me. There are people following you, people who will try and kill you, people who…

“Shit, it’s too late.”

He grabbed her hair and shoved her head beneath the table as he kicked the chair out from underneath her, dropping her completely to the floor. It all happened so quickly. Seconds later, the sparkling neon light overhead burst into broken shards of glass, and the guy sitting at the next table clutched his chest. Bullets had found their way home it seemed. He fell to the floor dead.

Dennis, or the man holding Stefani picked her up, pushed her to the back door and tried to make his way out the rear entrance. He was too slow by seconds as one of their attackers dropped down, sealing off their route.

“Hey, Frank, fancy meeting you here,” the man said to Stefani’s new vigilante. Those were the last words he spoke before she planted her foot firmly between his legs, feeling her eight-inch shoe imbed itself several inches into his tender flesh.

“AAAGGGHHH!” he screamed in pain as Frank drove his knife deep into the man’s chest, watching him fall lifelessly to the floor.

He opened the back door, shoved Stefani through the opening, and yelled, “Meet me at the Monaco Hotel.”

“Yes, room 254,” Stefani cut him off. “Of course, why not? Odds are there’s a taxi waiting for me right outside.”

Frank just stared at her as she slammed the door in his face and casually walked over and picked up her bag. Her Raggedy Ann doll mindlessly stared back at her, flaunting its ability to let time and sanity pass by the wayside.
What does it matter if you’re a rag doll and insane,
Stefani thought to herself.

She hailed the cab, shoving aside a guy who made a valiant attempt to jump in front of her. He was about to open his mouth, but she shoved her fist into the left side of his face, feeling his cheekbone crack, yelling, “Don’t even say it jerk. I am not in the mood.”

“Where to, miss?” the driver asked hesitantly. Not sure of what to expect from his newly found violent passenger.

“Golden Gate Bridge, please,” she said, not even blinking an eye. Maybe her luck was finally going to change. It sure couldn’t get any worse.

When they got to the far side of the bridge, she asked the driver to pull over and park. She got out, handed him a $100 dollar bill, and said, “Keep the change.”

Then, she slammed the door.

The driver sat and stared at her as she walked back toward the bridge, wondering what his strange passenger could possibly be doing. She was an oddity to say the least. He wondered what had happened to have broken her so completely and totally.
Some people just don’t have good luck
, he thought to himself. Then he put his car in reverse and headed off to find his next buck.

Stefani sat on the edge of the parking lot, looking at the bridge and the San Francisco skyline. It was beautiful, really. It was amazing how architecture and construction could co-mingle in a way to create such majestic buildings, even the bridge itself. How do people build these things?

There were a couple of sailboats floating around the harbor. She could see their flashing lights, warning other boats not to come too close. They were almost like beacons giving a warning.
Please don’t hurt me or us,
they must be saying.
We’re right here; please don’t hit us. Please don’t hurt us. We didn’t do anything wrong.

Stefani felt herself breaking apart, remembering her childhood. Sometimes memories crashed back into her thoughts no matter how hard she tried to block them out. She didn’t like memories. There was nothing good about who she was or where she came from. Death, pain, loss – those were the feelings she’d grown so accustomed to embracing.

The only thing in her life she ever felt fondly toward was her Raggedy Ann doll, and even that, in the end, had betrayed her. It just sat there, watching her from the chair, letting it all happen. It watched her with those eyes, almost as if it were mocking her. Telling her that everything would be all right when Stefani knew that was far from the truth. Nothing in her life would ever be all right.

She finally did feel the power coursing through her veins. She walked over to the bridge and climbed over the fence.
It must be against the rules to walk on it at night
, she thought. She wondered to herself what the hours must be.

It seemed like there should’ve been a guard standing watch. Somebody should’ve been there to protect the innocent, but nobody was there. Stefani as always was on her own.

She scaled the barrier separating her from the edge. It was put there to protect, but in her mind, it was only trying to impede the inevitable. She was a gargoyle, after all. She could fly, maybe not now, but soon. She was almost indestructible, but she could still be hurt.

She wondered if this was how Superman felt. He could fly through the air, save the world on countless occasions, only to end up back in his Fortress of Solitude, contemplating his inevitable death all alone. Who could possibly love a man made out of steel? It just didn’t add up.

Who could possibly love her? She was nothing more than a shell. But she was a shell that could fly.

She spread her Raggedy Ann doll’s arms and threw it over the edge, yelling “Fly!” as the doll floated toward her peacefulness. It wasn’t fair that lifeless stuffing found tranquility before she did, but if she didn’t help her along there would be nobody else left to push. She thought about doing it together, but she no longer wanted to do anything with anyone.

Her doll needed to find its own peace. Raggedy Ann would have to live with her own inability to help, to foster change, to do the right thing. Her doll had seen it all and been witness to everything that happened all of those years. Her doll that was supposed to protect her now found its own way home.

Stefani spread her arms and kicked herself off the ledge. It seemed too inappropriate to just fall. What is the purpose of jumping if you don’t actually jump?

She felt the cold salty mist against her face as she careened toward the frothy surface of home. She really did feel like she was heading home. She felt as though she were on her way to meet her mother.

What will I say to my mother?
she thought. Her mother had left her. She was now dead and gone. Her mother was buried when Stefani was only 10 years old. Greg had hurt her mother, and Stefani had made him pay. She was strong; she knew that for a fact. She was going to make a difference in this world.

Gargoyles love the water. Their primary goal is to protect the foundation, squirting the water far enough away from a building so it can’t erode the dirt protecting the very structure itself.

In reality, they became so much more than that. They became the protectors of peace, fighting off demons from the other world, keeping the inhabitants safe from harm.

Gargoyles were saviors in a way, and that meant Stefani was a savior, as well. She really did love the water. It was the only place where she felt at home.