God Complex

Chapter Two: Michael

 Chapter Two: MIcheal

“Honor thy father, obey your father child!” he would scream, as he burned another cross into my back.

                “Honor me! Honor me!”

I stayed silent. I knew better than to speak against him twice. I lifted my head and watched as he set the brand back into the fire place. Burning flesh was a familiar smell, and ceased to bother me. It was the remaining pain that unleashed the darkness in my heart that scared me.

“You are an ungrateful child; God is punishing me with you. Get out of my sight.”

My arms quivered, all my strength was drained, and I faltered getting up. My father turned back to me, his face bent and twisted in the glow of the fire.

“You dare tempt me twice?” he bellowed. “Have you no penitence?”

He ran over to where I lay, grabbing a handful of my hair. He jerked my head back, and then slammed it onto the cold graveled ground. Blood poured from my eyebrow, making it nearly impossible for me to see. I scrambled across the ground, feeling my way down the hall. His footsteps crackled behind me, and before I could scream, his boot connected with my intestines. Gasping, I felt every ounce of air leave my lungs. I stumbled onto my feet, limping down the hall to the corner that was my room.

                It was dark, the kind of dark where it doesn’t matter if your eyes are open, or closed. I felt around the floor for the match box. The tips of my fingers caressed the rough surface as I struck a match. A brilliant fire engulfed the darkness. I bent down to the one candle in my room, pressing the flame to the wick.

“Let there be light.” I whispered.

The flames shadows danced along my wall, lighting up the bible verses painted in lamb’s blood. Proverbs 15:20 “a wise son brings joy to his father.” Exodus 21:17 “and he who curses his father shall surly be put to death.” And, of course, my father’s favorite; Exodus 20:12 “honor thy father so that you may live long in the land your God is giving to you.” He had painted these as a constant reminder to me; obey or feel his wrath.

                I peeled off my blood soaked shirt, and threw it into the pile with the others. I tended to my fresh burn. The skin was peeling and warm blood was oozing down my spine. I hobbled over to the makeshift bathroom, dampening a cloth with ice cold water. Instant relief flooded my wound. As I pressed the cloth to my back, I took notice to the other burn scars. Most had not healed yet, and some even looked infected. After the bleeding stopped, I laid on my back. With the pain too great, I turned over to my side, knowing sleep would evade me once again.

                The mornings were my only time for peace. My father would go out and hunt while I was left to tend to the chores. They only took about an hour seeing as we lived in a shitty cabin out in the middle of nowhere. Bored out of my mind I walked to my corner. I glanced at the old bible he had given me after my mother died. There was no way in hell I was reading that beat up thing again. It was the only book in the house, and many passages had been scribbled out. My father told me not to worry about it. I knew he was hiding something, there was more to this world, but I had no way of finding out. I turned to a lone hook on my wall, grabbed my jacket and headed out the door. About five years ago, I found an old sewing kit in a box of mom’s old things. Knowing dad would have me discard the old animal carcasses he would bring home, I hatched an idea. Before moms death she would tell me stories about the outside world. She told me of radios, television, and of other books. One particular story stuck in my mind. She told me of an intriguing hobby called taxidermy. She explained that people would take dead animals and stuff them so that they appeared alive again. Upon my father telling me to discard of the remains one night, I hid them away behind a hollow tree, stowing away moms sewing kit inside of the tree. Every morning after my chores, I would go to my tree and visit with my animals. Most of the remains had rotted, or been torn at by some other living animal. I didn’t mind though, I would just remove the nicer looking parts and use them for my creations. I began by trying to reassemble the animal to its original state, matching up parts that belonged with other parts. Rabbit parts with other rabbit parts, deer with deer, and so on. After about a year, I realized I had been wasting my talents. I soon began mixing the parts, creating creatures even God himself had not thought of. My animals were brilliant, and soon I had mastered the art of creation. Unfortunately, my animals would only last a few days. After they were no longer perfect, I would discard of the putrid bodies. It was my favorite part of each day. It made me feel empowered, as if I was giving them new life. The years went by, and my animals got more complex, more beautiful. They gave me a taste of my hidden power. They gave me the strength I have today.