Shrouded

.XIV.

 "What I will do?" I repeated, baffled.

Rikard nodded, the creases around his eyes deepening as he grinned. "Indeed, child." He stood, brushing his hands over his clothing, as though to smooth out wrinkles. "Now you begin to understand."

I tried to follow his movements as he began to pace around me again, but he stopped just behind me, in my bling spot. I felt his warm, humid breath on the back of my neck, and heard the malice in his voice as he whispered to me.

"Accountability is the second Tenant of Atonement. Now, little lamb, I know that you do not remember your life on earth. As one of the Shrouded, you must piece your memories back together and learn whether or not you have committed your heinous sins. God couldn't see you in life, so, if you want to enter His kingdom, you must prove yourself innocent."

So, that's what it was. Shrouded from the eyes of the Almighty. The sins on my hand merely guesswork, things that I might have done. I thought about the words.

Thievery

Murder

Thievery? Maybe. I don't remember who I was. Maybe I wasn't such an honest person. But murder? Surely not. I shook my head, then froze as my vision filled with a memory: a dark room, a bright flash. Lightning? The silver brilliance of a gun. The bang of the weapon, firing. A heavy weight in my hand. Vision-me looks down at my lap, where a silver pistol is resting, heavy in my limp fingers.

The memory fades, and the shock must have been evident on my face, because Rikard smiled at me, sweetly, compassionately. "You remembered something, yes? Well, I hope it was something useful." He fidgeted with something, and suddenly my hands were free, and then my ankles, too.

"Understanding that you have sinned is the first step towards redemption. Though, to truly repent, you must be ready to accept punishment." I felt his hands slide under my arms, and he hauled me up. I stood shakily, my feet and hands prickling with pins and needles as the blood flow returned to them.

Rikard shuffled over to the door, still not picking his feet up properly, and opened it, motioning for me to come forward.

As the door to the, apparently, soundproof room had opened, terrible noises invaded my ears. Cries. Not little sobs, but deep, gasping, wretched cries, the sound someone makes when they've lost everything and they know it's their own fault. Thuds, like fists against flesh, and little whimpers of pain. The short, sharp grunts and gasps of people trying not to scream. I did not want to look through the door.

Impatient with my reluctance, Rikard grabbed my arm and pulled me through the doorway. We stepped out onto a balcony, which overlooked a huge open space, the main room of the building we were in.

Below, scores of people, probably fifty or so, were mutilating themselves.

Hitting their own backs with the thick coils of rope. Slicing through their own skins with sharp metal. I squeaked in shock and horror, staggering backwards.

"Ah, ah, child." Rikard grabbed my arm again. "You must look." He dragged me back to the edge and forced me to stare into the mass of human pain. Self inflicted torture and anguish filled that space, and I stumbled away again, the sight too much for me to understand. This time, Rikard didn't pull me back.

The only places for me to go were back into the room, or down the steps beside the balcony, which would take me down to the ground floor. I chose the former, and huddled in the corner of my former prison cell, hugging my knees to my chest. Rikard came and sat in front of me, crossing his legs and resting his hands on his knees.

He waited for me to speak, and my voice was choked with tears when I finally did. All I could manage was: "Why?"

Rikard sighed. "It's always hard for new members to understand. That's why you have no warning before you see." He stroked his chin, considering his next words. "The art of self flagellation is an ancient one. It involves knowing that you have done wrong, that you have sinned, and being not only prepared to accept punishment, but being prepared to inflict it upon yourself. It is the ultimate form of repentance, and the one thing that will help you atone."

"No," I said, horror still creeping through my head. I was shivering. "No. I saw a woman when I first got here. She atoned, she left this place. I watched her. And she wasn't fucking mutilating herself to do it!"

Rikard waved his hand dismissively. "You must be confused."

"I am not confused! You're insane!"

I barely saw his hand move before my head whipped to one side from the force of the slap. His face remained impassive as I raised my hand to my stinging cheek.

"Respect is the first Tenant of Atonement."

"Bullshit!"

Another slap.

"You will learn, child. You will. We sinners deserve punishment. You deserve punishment."

"And you?" I tasted blood in my mouth where I'd bitten my cheek. "Do you participate, Father?"

Rikard smiled and shook his head. "I cannot. I must see all of my children safely into the arms of the Lord before I atone. It is difficult, but I must stay behind. I cannot mark myself even once until all of my charges have gone safely home."

I nearly screamed in frustration. "In other words, you're a sicko who likes watching people hurt themselves, and you don't practice what you preach."

At this, Rikard's face became stony. He stood up, walking over to the door. Before he left, he looked over his shoulder, his eyes burning. "I am a savior. A hero. Someone who is selflessly sacrificing his own chance of heaven to make sure that others get to see it. You are a child who needs to be taught, a lamb to be brought back into the herd. You will see it my way in the end. I am the way to salvation."

As he left, I screamed. "You're a lunatic who has delusions of grandeur! I will get out of here, and when I do, I'll put an end to your little cult so that all of these people can have a real chance of atonement, you fucking psychopath!"

He gave me a calm smile, one that said you're a confused child, I forgive you for your harsh words. He closed the door.