He was chosen. That’s what he’d always say when he closed and locked my bedroom door. He was chosen, and I was lucky.
He had all the keys, and they’d jingle around on a long chain that hung from his neck as he walked. They’d jingle as he moved closer, so loud that they’d cover my quiet crying.
I’d always see Sister Juliana’s eyes through the keyhole, and I wondered if I got up real close, if she’d be crying too.
She loved Brother Thomas with all her heart, and yet, he didn’t want her anymore. He had a commune full of pretty, perfect girls, who didn’t sag, or sigh at him. We screamed, and we said “no” but he was so strong that he could ignore it.
He was chosen, so he said, so I guess he thought the world belonged to him, along with every girl in it.
It was all I’d ever known. I was born into the Sunshine Family. My parents really needed to believe, and so, I had to. I’d barely even experienced the outside world before that day he locked the door. I’d been on the occasional outreach trip, but I was still just a grasshopper, thirteen and a few days, so the world was new to me.
Pain became a friend, though.
It always hurt, but in my mind, I took that pain as a reminder of my existence. He’d whisper in my ear about how he was chosen, along with how lucky I was, and how blessed I must have felt, to have his hands upon me. My body would break, freezing up and faltering, and my mind would try to carry me away somewhere better, but the pain kept me tethered. It told me that I was alive, and that I still had a chance to be free, one day.
I was real. I existed. I was surviving. That was what I had to remember.
I could hear the words clearly, almost feel them in my mouth, and when he was done, I would let them surround me as I showered and sobbed.
They knew I was real too, and one day, I discovered them.
It was a day like any other. The bedroom door was locked, and his ravenous eyes were locked upon me.
I fought, as I always did, pushing and wailing, and as always, it did no good. As always, nothing phased him, but I could feel something different that day. He panted and then fell to the ground, and for the first time, I noticed it watching.
I barely noticed it at first, but eventually my eyes found it, and I could not look away.
The moon.
Hanging in the sky but almost invisible until the curtains fluttered and our eyes met.
Red, raging eyes bore into me, slowly filling with tears as Brother Thomas ran his rough fingers down my cheek with a grin.
The eyes couldn’t be weeping for the love of Brother Thomas, because to his great misfortune, only one on the entire Earth was stupid enough to adore him, so why? I began to wonder why as he traced his grubby fingers down my thigh and considered the demands of his appetite.
My body was numb, and longed for the freedom of being touched only by water, but the crying eyes kept my gaze as the night’s stars shone. I stared them out, curious, and grateful for their distraction, wondering why I had never seen the moon’s eyes before.
As the torment continued, the eyes searched the room, and it was swallowed with darkness.
He didn’t seem to see, but he had a busy, broken mind, so I wasn’t surprised.
Dark shadows seemed to find shape in hidden spots all over the room. Glum, thin mouths, giant eyes, gleaming with sorrow, and sharp claws that hung by their sides as they watched.
I locked eyes with the moon once again and watched it nod, with a lonely, resigned smile.
Something had to be done, and so, she was doing it.
When he was done with me, he zipped up his jeans and straightened the ribbons in my hair with a sigh.
“Aren’t you just the luckiest little girl, Gwen?” He pressed his lips against my scalp, doing a poor impression of an affectionate man as I winced, shaking underneath him as he rose from the floor, freeing me at last from his grasp, for a short while. “You really are the luckiest girl in town.” The eyes seemed to glare. Gone were the tears, and as I wiped my own tears from my eyes, I watched him leave the room, trailed by the furious eyes.
As the door closed, they turned slowly to me, all at once, and I crumbled under their stares, sobbing in the centre of the room as they gathered around me, clearer than ever before.
Their big eyes shone with tears, and I knelt before them, weeping too. We were bound together, broken but on the mend. Each of them soothed me, holding me inside shaking arms and whispering kind words as the moon shone down, with her big, red eyes.
That night, I slept under the stars, watching the moon until my eyes ached and I could stay awake no longer.
I dreamt of her red eyes, weeping as the shadows swept me into their arms, and for the first time in years, I felt safe.
The morning came, and he was at the mercy of the moon.
She hung high in the morning sky, pale and stubborn, as if refusing to be chased away by the sun. It shouldn’t have still been there, whole and glowing, but it smiled upon me, and I glowed too.
Her pale glow darkened, deepened, spreading out like wine spilled on silk. A soft red, not angry or harsh, but beautiful in a way I couldn’t look away from. More like the red of closed eyes behind warm hands, or the firelight on my blanket when I used to feel safe.
I took a breath and let it fill me. I could feel her strength swimming deep within my veins, and my heart pounded with anxious excitement.
The warmth of her light curled around my shoulders, pressed into my chest. She didn’t speak, but I heard her. I felt her, like fingers brushing my hair. Like a lullaby I hadn’t heard since I was small.
Brother Thomas didn’t like it.
He was in the centre of the garden, his eyes, wide and darting, as he began to hear the moon too.
“This is a test!” He shouted suddenly as Sister Julianna trailed after him with a few followers. “A trick of the heavens! A deception!”
No one moved.
I didn’t even blink. I just raised my hand to the sky, palm open, admiring the shimmer of the moon on my splayed fingers.
Brother Thomas gasped. “Witchcraft,” He breathed, and then louder, with spit flying from his mouth: “WITCHCRAFT!”
I couldn’t help but smile, watching the moon shift again, tilting her face slightly and casting her glow directly onto him.
Brother Thomas stumbled backward, his face flushed as he spluttered and stammered.
He screamed. Not like a leader, or a prophet, but like a frightened, feeble man. He ran, tripping over the hem of his robe, and disappeared back inside.
I stood there for a long while after, watching the door.
Then I looked back up, smiling up at the soft, shining moon, scarlet and sweet.
Brother Thomas knew the truth.
He was not our saviour. He was a man of many faults, and the moon knew it too.
I heard her, walking under her guidance back inside the house with a grin. I found myself at his bedroom door, smirking as the door flew open, seeming to shimmer scarlet as my eyes met with the man.
He was at the window, glaring at the beautiful moon that glared back, flinching as he heard my footsteps behind him.
“What are you?” His voice was barely a whisper, and he would not meet my gaze.
I did not speak, because there was no need. The knife weighed heavy in my hand, aching for a home in his neck. Where had it come from? I’ve never quite known the answer. I think that she wanted me to have it. The moon. She understood how things must be, and she sent me to serve her.
We said no more about it, Brother Thomas and I.
I knew that nothing more had to be said, watching as dark shadows found shape in hidden spots all over the room. Glum, thin mouths, giant eyes, gleaming with sorrow, and sharp claws that rose with their hands as they followed my path towards him.
I was not alone, and as his blood trickled from my lips and down my chin, I finally understood everything.
He shook, just a little, before falling into nothing. Just a body on the ground. Bones, flesh and nothing more. He became cold as I crossed from the ground, standing and surveying his remains under the soft moonlight.
The eyes no longer cried, and the sky shone gold, and magnificent because at last, I knew.
I was the chosen one.
Sincerely, Jennifer x 