Chapter IV: Hell Is Others

26 0 0
                                    

Buildings curve and point upwards, stairways sticking out and leading to nowhere. The streets, too, descend and ascend with no purpose other than to confuse.

Bean kicks a brick in frustration and it tumbles down a set of two-story stairs that really looked like they might go somewhere. Until the platform they led to floated away. "What is it with this place?"

Bean has been wandering the alleys of hell in her tattered gown for what feels like days. Sleeping in trash and scrounging for supplies, however, seems to have kept Dagmar off her tail.

"How did I even escape," Bean says to herself. "All I remember is Mom, forcing me down the aisle, to him." The image of her intended groom draws a frown across her face.

"That stupid," she shouts out loud. "Lying, manipulative weirdo!" She kicks another brick, popping a demon on the head below.

"Ow!"

"Sorry," calls Bean. She sits on the steps, which start floating over the city. Sighing, she tries to remember everything that happened: She was being forced to her groom, he took her hand, her mother lit some type of incense, everything started to get fuzzy...

"Bean," he had whispered, taking her hand gently and speaking in the friendly tone he had used when they first met. "I understand the circumstances are less than ideal for you, but I don't intend to be a bad husband."

His smile seemed sincere, reaching his eyes. Even his pointed, curly hair took on a joyful look.

Music, Bean remembered the music. An organ belting some sort of familiar song...

"We can be happy," the man had continued, whispering despite the organ, leaning in close enough to be heard. "You and I. You have so many qualities I admire, and in due time, I think you'll come to admire me. We do have so much to learn about one another, and I think we'll enjoy doing it." He had taken both her hands into his and looked deep in her eyes. "My love."

The music played. The memory was coming back; yes. Bean had listened to the organ, began to recognize the melody. The hated, repetitive, childish, demeaning melody.

"The box!" she had cried. "That damn music box!"

Her memory continues to sway. The incense had made Bean drunk and dreamy, almost complacently so. But knowing where she was, what that song was, made her snap.

"Screw you, Alva!" she remembered screaming, flipping over the altar. "And screw you, Mom!"

Her mother had hissed, flown toward her. Alva had attacked, grabbed her hands. She was able to flip him over fairly easily, but then other demons had arrived.

"How did I escape?"

A headache suddenly feels like it will cut her skull. She cries out, clutches at her temple. The pain subsides just as it came, but rays of blue shoot out from her fingers, incinerating nearby buildings.

"Aah!" Bean tucks her hands in her armpits and shrinks against the stairs, hiding from the glances of curious demons below. She tries to look at her fingers, but the lightning shows itself as soon as she lifts them.

"Oh my God," she wraps her hands in her skirt. "We can not do that here!"

Another headache tears through, but this time, it carries a memory: hitting Alva and his bodyguard demons with a single shot from her hands. They had flown through the air, completely charred, electricity pulsing through them.

"What?" Dagmar had cried. "What? No! That should not have manifested yet!"

Bean had spun around, as if drunk. "I said, screw you, Mom!"

The Rise Of Sir Pendergast The GreatWhere stories live. Discover now