PSYCHOPATH

chapter 21: part 2

Chapter 21: PART 2

A FALLEN SON & A FORGOTTEN CHILD

~ "He made the devil so much stronger than a man...And let her taste the fires of hell. Or else let her be mine and mine alone." ~

-HELLFIRE, 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame'

It was as if a dam had broken. Memories flooded in, drowning her.

She remembered. She fucking remembered.

****

The day Ella Grant's life changed started like any other.

She rose before dawn, and dressed as warmly as she could, pulling layers of threadbare clothing on, in an effort to trap what little heat her rail-thin body managed to produce. The orphanage was awakening, the other children yawning and dressing, and yet, for a place with so many children, it was quiet. They scurried like mouses in the dark.

It was not a place for laughter. It was a place for the forsaken. A place to be forgotten.

After lessons, Ella always went outside to sit at the fence, digging holes and ripping up grass. Mostly it was a way for her to press her face against the gate and look outside. See the people walking their dogs. Listen to the cars speeding by, blasting the radio. Watch the neighborhood kids skate pass. And of course, there was the crazy hope that maybe someone would spot her, looking sad and forlorn like a puppy in a kennel, and would pick her up and whisk her away.

Whether she knew it or not, her life was never the same after she took notice of the boy on the bicycle.

He showed up one day, out of the blue, magically and mysteriously. Most people rode by her, but the boy stayed. He stayed and rode around and around on his bike. At first, she watched the bike, admiring the wheels and imagining herself on it. Then, she watched him. 

He was a kid, about her age, actually – no, maybe a little older. He was wearing a heavy black coat and dark blue jeans. They looked nice. Nicer than her clothes.

Ella looked at his face. The first thing she had thought was that he looked angry, the second thing was that he looked sad. Or maybe lonely. Like her.

The third thing was that he had very soft looking hair.

And when he came up to her, Ella would notice that he had a sensitive face, graced with a soft mouth and framed by inky, almost angelic waves. You look like an angel, she almost said, but luckily over the years, she managed to learn when to keep her mouth shut. She noticed, much too late, the nastiest bruise on his eye. It almost made her gasp. It looked like it hurt.

She became aware that she was staring too much.

"Hi." Ella had blurted out instinctively.

She crinkled up her nose at her own foolishness and looked at him, hoping he didn't find her a complete weirdo. In fact, he seemed to think the opposite. He looked at her as if she'd just done a magic trick, a mix of awe and surprise. The other side of his smile lifted, and she blinked, surprised at how appealing his smile made him. It had been a long time since she'd seen a smile.

"Hello."

Berlin joined a seminary. Not that he wanted to, but because he had to. It was a disguise. A character he needed to play. He was good at it too. He climbed the religious ladder like a game. People, women and children, flocked every Sunday to hear him. They greeted and praised him, even outside the church, out in public. Like they knew him.