The Ecstasy and the Agony

Author's Note: Within this chapter, the main character, Claire, reads a book of poetry. The poem that she reads in the book is not a poem written by me. Instead, it is written by a fellow Vocal author, Colleen Millsteed. The poem, "She Welcomes the Darkness While Wandering the Destructive Halls of Hell", is used with her express permission. Her creativity deserves the honor of recognition. Thank you, Colleen!

When we are thrown into a situation that is completely unknown, and said situation begins to appear as though it’s ‘under control’, that’s usually the time when you realize that the control is an illusion. For five days now, Eric had been living in a situation that was completely unknown. A Claire from an alternate reality just happened to be sitting on his couch, with his family, and she could provide him with no adequate reasoning of how she got there. Surely, any such ability to jump from reality to reality had to be a government-sanctioned, if not government-controlled, experiment? It had to be! For Eric, there was other logical explanation.

Through his entire life, Eric had been a religious skeptic. His ideologies, his beliefs, were one hundred percent locked down by scientific logic and mathematical proof. Not that he was completely devoid of non-scientific flights of fancy. He and Claire were diehard paranormal hunters. He knew for a fact that, many years ago, he was attacked and marked by a demon. He knew that ghosts were real. But even those things found scientific grounding within him. Physics, mathematics, it was all the language of God. There was always scientific rationale available to explain even the most fantastical of truths.

Eric had spent five days researching the internet, pouring over mathematical equations that he strained to understand, and was no closer to explaining the appearance of Claire’s alternate than he was at the beginning. And the fact that she had come here with no backing of any governmental, or non-governmental, entity made him question just how ‘under control’ this situation was.

But that wasn’t all… Eric had also spent five days in close proximity to a woman that his wife, but not his wife. The differences between them were stark, but at their core they were identical. He could feel her sadness as though it was a blanket wrapped around him, and knowing that her Eric was dead made him grieve for her. Eric loved his wife with every fiber of his being, but he loved her other, too. It was something he couldn’t even hope to explain, and it was a feeling that was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Since her arrival, Eric’s sleep had been fitful and restless, and his dreams had been weirder than ever. But he could never remember much beyond hazy feelings when trying to recall those dreams, even though they felt as real as his waking life while he dreamed them. Tonight was no exception. Eric would not remember this dream, but at least he would remember a scene.

The snow-covered mountain peak stood calm and sunlit, seemingly glowing orange in the final minutes of the day. Then the clouds obscured it as the wind howled in his ears. The cold was bone-chilling, but the heat of Other Claire’s grip ran from his hand, through his arm, and to the very core of his being, protecting him from flesh-freezing wind that whipped the clouds about them. She held onto to a small promontory coming from the mountainside, and he could see the strained muscles and ligaments of her lower arm as she held on for dear life. Her eyes were large and frightened, and she kept screaming something at him that he couldn’t hear over the wind. He put all of his focus into trying to read her lips…

“Let… Her… Go”

“Let who go?” he thought to himself.

It was then that he realized that he was holding another person in his other hand, the muscles in his shoulder burning from the effort. Eric looked down and his wife, Claire. Unexpectedly, there was no look of fear of horror on her face. She was serene and beautiful. The storm even seemed to intentionally avoid her. He stared down at her in awe. Claire stared right back at him, the love in her eyes unmistakable. She, too, spoke, but this time he could hear the voice as though it was a whisper in his ear.

“You have to let me go, my love. She is me.”

The storm’s fury increased about him as he struggled against her words. He would not let her go! She was his soulmate, his forever!

“No! I can’t do it! I won’t do it!”

He felt the grip on his wife weaken and the grip on Other Claire grow stronger. But he fought against it as hard as he could.

“Don’t you dare let go!” he screamed to his wife. The grips kept loosening and tightening as the had just done. In a rage, Eric turned his head to Other Claire. She was wrapped in what he perceived was an aura of blue and pink, but her eyes glowed red.

“Let her go!” she screamed angrily.

Eric’s heart sank in the dream. The grip he had on his wife seemed to disappear, and as he looked back to her, she was gone. He saw no woman screaming as she fell away from him. She was just… gone. In his hand, he now held a dagger, blade curved and sharp, grip and pommel carved in the form of a dragon made of white bone. It glowed red in his grip, just like the eyes of Other Claire, who still held him over the precipice. His sunken heart now became a blaze of fury and irrationality. He screamed, pulled himself up as high as he could in her grip, and plunged the dagger toward her heart.

Eric jerked awake with a scream. His hair and face were covered in a cold sweat, his bed clothes were drenched. he shivered as the covers fell off of him. Claire was awake in an instant, hand resting on his shoulder.

“What’s the matter, babe?” Her voice was concerned and half-asleep at the same time.

“I just had the craziest dream… and not one of the funny ones,” he answered, and shook his head in confusion.

Her hand went to his back, then his neck. “My God, you’re soaked! Let me go get you some water. Just lay back down and I’ll be right back.”

Eric put his head back down on the pillow and wrapped himself tightly in the blanket to warm up. He could still feel the grip of the dagger in his hand. The leftover images of the dream blinded him to how long it took for Claire to bring his water, but he was thankful when she came back into the room. He could only see the outline of her form in the dark, but he knew the feeling of ‘home’ that he gave her. I’m a lucky man. She set the drink down on the nightstand and made her way back to her side of the bed. As she climbed in, she pulled herself close to him, the warmth of her body a welcome feeling to his chilled and sweat-laden skin. Claire was not just interested in cuddling him and comforting him, though.

Eric felt her lips on his neck, the kiss long and tender. Her hand moved from his shoulder, down his arm, and onto his buttocks. As her hand made a firm and loving grip, the hair on his arms and legs stood on end. He felt a vibration run through his body that warmed him immediately. Claire’s hand continued to roam over his body, touching his chest, his belly, and eventually between his legs.

The reaction of her touch was immediate, and the memories of the dream were gone in a puff of mental smoke. Eric rolled over gently to face her, her hand never leaving his body. It was rare that they would have a middle-of-the-night lovemaking episode, but he was never one to say ‘no’ to his wife. He brought his hand to her cheek and kissed her deeply, the press of her lips to his sending his emotions into a frantic state of ecstasy. Their kissing became as frantic as his emotions, their breathing heavy. Eric moved his hand to cup her breast, a quiet moan escaping her lips. He began to sweat again, but this time it was heated, and he put his hand to the small of her back and lifted her underneath him.

Sitting up on his knees, Eric removed his shirt, Claire’s hands immediately caressing his bare chest a moment before reaching for the waistband of his pajama pants. From her crouched position beneath him, Eric grabbed her tank top and pulled it over her head. He pressed his lips to her breasts as she began to pull off his pants. The heat in the bedroom was near stifling as their love exploded like a nuclear bomb.

Eric lost track of all time as he inundated himself in the wave of erotic passion, Claire’s breathy moans driving him almost primally to climax. She put her hands behind his neck and pulled him close to her, then rolled over on top of him as she took him inside of her. Their eyes were locked on each other, their souls were locked together with their love, and their energies were as one as they pushed each other further towards the edges of ecstasy. Eric could feel their balanced energies as a reverberating hum between them, and he wondered at the near-infinite intensity of their love.

Then he lost all control of himself, and he pulled Claire to him as they climaxed together. There was no chance of either of them doing it quietly, and neither of them really cared to. Eric kissed her softly and deeply, then buried his face into her neck. It took several minutes for both of them to recover their breath, but they both lost themselves in their embrace of pure love.

Eric fell asleep quickly as his body calmed, and he never noticed Claire getting out of bed. He also never realized, once she had returned to his side, that she was no longer wearing a tank top, but a long sleeve nightgown. His dream was, once again, unlike any he had had before. He found himself in an endless field of green grass, and he walked among different versions of himself.

* * *

Claire walked into the guest bedroom, Anne relaxing on her bed with her eyes closed. She grabbed the bottle of water from the bedside table and took a long draught of the cool liquid. Anne opened her eyes and smiled.

“Did you connect with him?” Her voice was as calm as a pond on a still, summer day. There was no hint of irritation or jealousy in her tone. What had just happened is what she had wanted to happen.

“Why did you let me do that?” Claire’s expression was concerned confusion. “I don’t know that I’d be able to do the same for you.”

Anne got up from the bed and stood before Claire, her own expression unchanged. “My death is near, Claire, and somebody is going to have to care for him. In order to do that, you have to know him. He’s not the same Eric you loved, but you need to love him the same.”

She embraced Claire, her floral body spray still emanating from her pink nightgown. Anne’s tenderness calmed Claire, and she smiled and returned the embrace. Flashes of the others that she’d killed flipped through her thoughts. It would be nice if more of you were like her! But her next thought shook that off, for it would be a lot more difficult to kill them if they were.

“I trust you,” whispered Anne into Claire’s ear.

As Anne left and made her way back to Eric, Claire cried silently. Anne had made her feel like this whole journey was worth the price that she already paid. And she also made her feel ready to pay the remaining price the rest of the journey would require. Claire realized that, not only did she love Eric, but she also loved Anne. And I have to kill her…

* * *

The morning sun peeked through the drawn curtains of the guest bedroom. Claire had gotten so much good sleep over the last few days that it surprised her that she was still sleeping late. The aroma of bacon, though, had filtered its way up to the room, and Claire’s body couldn’t help waking up to it. She got up and stretched, the intense intimacy of the night before still rolling through her like a wave. Anne had left her a robe to wear on her first night here, and she donned it now before heading down to the kitchen. Am I getting too comfortable here?

She shook it off and headed down the stairs and heavenly scent of bacon and eggs. There wasn’t much noise, as the television was turned up louder than she would expect. Something is wrong, isn’t it? A small sigh escaped her as the idea that she’d have to move on from this world sooner than later pushed everything else out her mind. The journalist’s British voice came loud and clear with the television’s volume.

“This is Tyler Cameron, on the ground here in Lagos, Nigeria. There is a scare reverberating through the world right now as the nations of Sierra Leone, Liberia, and the Ivory Coast are fighting desperately against an outbreak of viral meningitis. The disease has been more of a nuisance infection, rather than something to fear, for nearly a century around the world. But this particular version of the virus has many frightened for their lives. It has only been a few years since the world suffered from the coronavirus pandemic, which saw the deaths of nearly three million people worldwide. This new enterovirus is, many say, making the coronavirus pandemic look like child’s play. It’s super-transmissibility aside, the enterovirus is causing heightened panic more for its symptoms.”

Tyler Cameron disappears from the screen and a scene is presented with the journalist’s voiceover.

“The enterovirus wreaking havoc on the western coast of Africa has many people here, and around the world, fearing the worst. It is a form of viral meningitis, but its symptoms are swift, brutal, and all too often fatal. In videos released from the country of Ghana, which have since gone viral on the worldwide web, we can see that sufferers of this tremendously dangerous virus must be strapped down, for if they escape from their hospital beds, they will bang their heads into the nearest wall until it kills them. The screams from the headaches the virus causes occur even during sleep for many of these patients, and many others still suffer from severe dehydration due to a loss of bowel control and the onset of severe diarrhea.

The heads of state of most of the nations of Africa have either already gone into lockdown or are ready to initiate it should the situation here get any worse. And, to be honest, there doesn’t appear to be any way that this situation will improve in the near term. The European Union, the UK, and the United States have already implemented severe flight restrictions in an effort to get ahead of the eventual spread of the disease, but there appears to be little hope in containing its spread after the disastrous attempts to contain the coronavirus a few short years ago.”

File footage from the past coronavirus pandemic is intermingled with current shots of heads of state and scenes from the ground in the affected African nations. Tyler Cameron continues his reporting, the voiceover portion complete and a live shot now showing:

“Maria, things are worse than expected with this enterovirus, as the symptoms of the illness are leading to a near 100% fatality rate. And the infection rate is greater than anything the health organizations of the world have ever seen before. But that hasn’t stopped internet hecklers from poking fun at the new virus, as nicknames such as, and forgive my language, ‘shits and giggles’, ‘the giggleshits’, and the ‘headbanger virus’ have all become popular as these videos are shared with a sense of jocularity. I will be leaving Nigeria following this report, and I have no idea what restrictions I will run into when I arrive back in New York. I urge all citizens to prepare themselves for the worst. On the ground, in Lagos, Nigeria, this is Tyler Cameron reporting for ABC World News.”

“Well, there’s a good morning!” said Claire, her volume purposely raised.

Eric chuckled at her as he flipped the bacon over. “Good morning to you, too. Hungry?”

“Famished!” she answered, bending down to give Anne a hug.

That was Thursday morning, and all remained quiet and calm until Sunday, New Year’s Eve. The reports of outbreaks of the Headbanger Virus continued to rise, with blooms now covering nearly all of Africa, and blooms beginning in Brazil, India, and China. US authorities had started to warn citizens to be very careful when going outside their homes, and schools were already preparing to go to virtual learning. One of the great advancements resulting from the previous pandemic was the infrastructure necessary to continue schooling online. But beyond the rising fears of worldwide illness, the immediate impacts on world economics and politics inflamed tensions to beyond normal levels.

Sunday morning dawned cold and snowy. It wasn’t a snowstorm, but a constant, light snowfall that added to what was already on the ground. After a breakfast of waffles and fruit, the five family members dressed in their Sunday best, Claire having to borrow from Anne. As a precaution, Anne had also purchased a wig for Claire to allow them to be seen in public together without the truth being suspected. She despised the wig, as it was tightly curled brunette locks, but wore it anyway.

The ride to the church was unnervingly quiet, and Claire stared out the window, feeling the vibrations inside her pulsing. She had nearly forgotten about them over the last week. She had been honed in on them so intently during her weeks of ‘hunting’ that it now surprised her how easily she had been able to let them go. Of course, the compass needle of the vibrations pointed right to the front passenger seat where Anne sat, but that didn’t mean much to Claire. She had been fighting with herself since Wednesday night. She had to kill Anne, but didn’t want to. She loved Eric, but couldn’t stay. She adored the twins, but couldn’t shield them from the pain she would have to cause. Claire was anything but eager to continue her journey, it was full of pain, death, and blood. She also knew that she couldn’t stay here forever. The last time she tried to rebuild her life, in her own world, it was shattered by a meteor. Now, this ‘perfect’ world was about to succumb to another virus. Claire was running out of time…

She thought about all of this as they passed over the Knight Road bridge, the road that both she and Eric, her Eric, had always agreed was the most beautiful road in the Valley. The water was calm and serene in the winter landscape, the water near the shorelines having partially frozen over in the cold. Turning her thoughts to their destination, the New Goshen Church, Claire smiled to herself. She had only attended church a handful of times on her journey, and each time the pastor was the same man… Martin Sullivan.

The pastor had become a bit of a zen inducer for Claire. His calming voice settled her wits and seemed to perpare her for the road ahead. More than that, though, his sermons always seemed to be poignant to her predicament. In the beginning, his words had even driven the vibrations which were now a constant companion inside her. Perhaps that’s why she felt a bundle of nerves writhing in her belly now, a reason as to why she felt compelled to stay silent. Would his sermon have any bearing on what she must do? Would it give her a glimpse of what lay ahead on her journey? Claire didn’t know, but, then again, the ‘message’ was always cryptic.

The SUV was put into park and Claire was brought out of her thoughts by Nathaniel.

“Mother, we’re here,” he said quietly.

“Nathaniel…” Eric’s voice held an undertone of warning as he looked at his son through the rearview mirror.

“Yes, father, I know. Her name is ‘Abigail’, ‘Abigail Malone’.”

The family continued their silence as they walked to the chapel’s entrance, Claire smiling from ear to ear upon seeing Pastor Sullivan standing at the door.

His deep voice seemed to boom from on high, “Good morning , Wells family!” He embraced Eric with a jovial laugh and bowed his head to the rest of them. “And we have a visitor today. Welcome to our church, ma’am.”

The familiar snark bubbled to the surface, there was something about confusing the poor pastor every time Claire saw him that made her feel as cryptic as the words he was about to say to her from the pulpit. “The name’s Abigail Malone, Martin. It’s such a pleasure to see you again.” She smiled and continued right on past him after giving him a warm handshake. She chose not to let him fumble through his words in response to her.

“Very subtle, Abigail,” said Eric, his enunciation of her pseudonym heavy with sarcasm.

Claire hadn’t been inside this church since she was a child, and that was only as a visitor. Her family was Catholic, and New Goshen Church was UCC. It looked exactly as she remembered it, though. Old, but well kept. The chapel itself felt closed in, but the family made their way upstairs to the east-facing balcony, one of two that lined the longer walls of the large space. It was a full crowd, this Sunday morning, and Claire felt a pang of sadness, knowing that many of these faces would probably disappear in the coming weeks and months, thanks to the ‘headbangers virus’. If I could fix it, I would.

Pastor Sullivan took to the pulpit and began the service, quickly going through church announcements, the invocation, and turning it over to the choir for a couple of hymns. Then he began the sermon, and the butterflies began to flit around in Claire’s belly. The pastor’s scripture reading was from the Gospel of John:

“He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light.

That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world.

He was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not.

He came unto his own, and his own received him not.

But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name.”

He paused a moment and looked over the congregation, then he looked directly at Claire in the balcony as he continued, “Jesus was God’s perfect sacrifice.”

Damn you, Marty! The thought of the sacrifice that Anne would soon make, the sacrifice that she had already given herself over to, angered Claire. She looked to Gabriel and Nathaniel seated next to her, expressionless and tranquil. Next to them sat Eric, her love, but not her husband, thoughtful and intense as he stared at the pastor. Her Eric had been the same, never one to be duped by religion, his faith required him to use church as an inspiration, not a guide or a rule book. Then there was Anne. She sat watching the pastor with a subtle, knowing smile. As much as she loved her, Claire was incensed that she would take Gabriel’s lead and withhold critical information from her. Anne knew what the endgame was, yet she refused to let Claire in on the secret. Would she take that knowledge to her grave? She knew the answer, and it gnawed at her like a dog with a bone.

Claire tuned out the remainder of the sermon and remained silent in the walk to the car and on the ride home. The other four engaged in hushed conversation, but she tuned that out, as well. The vibrations inside of her had begun to intensify following the cryptic words of Pastor Sullivan, and they were only getting stronger as they approached home. The time had come, and Claire was unsure of her willingness and readiness to do the job.

Gabriel, the angel, greeted them as they walked into the kitchen. “Good afternoon, Wells family… and Claire. Are you ready?”

“Whoa! Who the fuck are you? And what are we supposed to be ready for?” Eric’s eyes were as big as saucers, and he dropped his coat where he stood and took a defensive posture.

“Oh, that’s right, Mr. Wells is yet to meet me.” Gabriel stood, a curved dagger in his left hand, and approached Eric, frozen in his position. “Sir,” and he gave the quintessential British bow, “I am the angel Gabriel. I serve the Yahweh and have conversed with your wife, your sons, and your guest, on multiple occasions.”

Eric just stood and stared, not noticing the angel’s outstretched hand. “Angel?”

“Is it really so hard to believe, considering your current houseguest?” He maintained his smile and extended hand.

Eyes squinting as they spied the dagger, Eric’s voice dropped to a threatening tone. “Why do you have that dagger? What exactly is supposed to happen here?”

“This?” Gabriel held up the dagger, the blade and grip forming a singular curve. The angel presented the blade so as to let Eric see the full carving of the bone-white handle. Eric saw the dragonhead pommel, its body carved out of the full grip. The blade shined in the sunlight coming in through the windows, its keen edge clear and dangerous. “Unfortunately, my friend, a sacrifice must occur here today. But, I assure you, it’s for the greater good.”

“Greater good?” Eric’s voice now as dangerous as the dagger’s blade. “Nobody is dying here, today, angel or not.”

Gabriel matched Eric’s tone, “I assure that somebody will, it cannot be stopped.” He turned away from Eric and raised his hand to the two women. “Ladies, it is time.”

“NO!” Eric lunged at Gabriel, who spun in his tracks and caught Eric by the neck.

“I don’t want to kill you. I have met many of your others, and they all have the same bravado.” the angel applied just enough pressure to take Eric to his knees. “And most of them have tried to stop me because of it. None have been successful, I warn you.”

Gabriel released him and continued to beckon Anne and Claire to the couch. “Ladies, we must be hasty, things are not well. Boys, please watch your dear father, I fear for his safety.”

Claire saw the twins both clench their jaws at the angel’s command. The conflict going on within them must be just as painful as what she felt in that moment. But, Eric turned away and walked out of the room. How she loved him…

Gabriel handed the dagger to Claire. It felt like a boulder in her hand, and it only got heavier as Anne turned to her and hugged her tightly.

“I trust you,” Anne whispered again in her ear.

The tears flowed down Claire’s face. She could barely see through them as Anne laid down on the couch. Nathaniel and Gabriel came closer to the couch, their expressions guarded, unsure of what their father would do.

She turned to the angel, “I can’t do this, Gabriel. She is the person I’ve always wanted to be. Let her take my place. I’ll give my life for hers.”

“No, Claire,” and now even the angel’s face became pained. He remembered what emotional pain felt like in that moment. Gabriel hadn’t been human in five thousand years, a long time to go without feeling human. Yet, Claire’s pain had suddenly become his, and his heart became sick. “If you die, then all that we have been seeking to achieve fails. You are the prime, and only you can follow this journey to its end.”

“Claire,” it was Anne this time, the smile still on her face. “I’m ready for this. This is my purpose. It is your strength that will save us.”

“Save you from what?” she sobbed.

“You’re not yet ready for that revelation yet, Claire,” said Gabriel.

She made a move to put the tip of the blade to her own chest, but Anne caught it quickly. Her face was no longer smiling, and her eyes were commanding. “Listen to me now. This is something you must do. I am the sacrifice.”

Anne moved Claire’s hand with a strength she didn’t expect and put the blade over her heart. A solitary tear rolled down her face as she held Claire’s eyes firm.

Oh my God! Oh my God! Claire’s anxiety reached a fever pitch, and, coupled with the intensity of the vibrations coursing through her body, that feeling of being torn apart wracked her brain. She remembered killing her other by the firelight, and the tidal wave of sadness that swelled through her. She remembered all of the others that she had killed, and the terrible individuals that they were. But this was her ‘perfect’. Why did she have to be sacrificed if she was the best of her? Why was she the prime? I don’t deserve to be the prime!

“Claire,” Gabriel pleaded. “I killed Belphegor. Nothing of that sort has ever been done. I have upset the balance. You must hurry!”

Nathaniel spoke up, his own voice tense, “You killed a demon, Gabriel?”

The boy, Gabriel, grabbed the angel by the scruff of his trench coat and pulled him close. It was the first time that Claire had seen any raw emotion from either of the twins. “You killed a demon?! What have you done, Gabriel?! You haven’t just upset the balance… Timelines are now going to start failing! You have removed an agent of purpose! You have put this whole mission in jeopardy!”

“My son,” said Anne softly. “Let him be. Nothing is going to be the same as it once was.” Then she nodded to Claire, “She will ensure that.”

The sobs kept coming from Claire, “What am I going to change? All I’ve done is kill.”

“You’re not going to kill today,” Eric said, the threat in his words as real as the cocked pistol pointed at Claire.

“Father, no!” Gabriel released the angel and placed himself between Eric and his target. “You can’t! This has to be done!”

His face contorted in anger, fear, and pain. He, too, began to weep as he spoke. “I will not let my wife be taken from me!”

The angel turned to Claire, “Claire, do it! You must do this and get out of here!”

Nathaniel moved gingerly towards his father, arms raised in a show of submission. “Father, this is mother’s purpose. There is a larger plan-”

“I don’t care!” He trained the barrel of the pistol on his own son. “I will not let her die!”

Claire turned away from the scene unfolding behind her, eyes still blurred with tears and blade still above Anne’s heart. “Anne, please, don’t make me do this.”

“You must, Claire,” and she raised her hands to cup the hand gripping the dagger above her heart. “You will not lose me, I promise.”

Claire clenched her eyes shut and sobbed loudly. In her head, she heard Anne’s voice again, “I trust you.” As Anne released Claire’s hand, the dagger once again felt like a boulder and its blade plunged into Anne’s chest with a thud. Anne’s final breath left her lungs in the next instant.

“NOOOO!!” screamed Eric, and the gun fired.

The bullet went harmlessly into the wall across the room, and Nathaniel lunged like a panther at him, taking him to the floor. His brother ran over, as well, and used all of his strength to help Nathaniel hold their father down. Eric’s screams were blood-curdling, the rage and sadness turning him into a primal beast. As Claire hung her head, sobbing uncontrollably, the angel leaned into her ear and whispered, “Take her soul! Take it and get out of here!”

Claire reached her other hand to cover Anne’s mouth, and she felt the dead woman’s soul explode into it. With the soul came something she had never experienced before, the memories and feelings of the life she took. She felt what it was like to be in love with your high school sweetheart. She felt what it was like to carry a child in her womb. She felt what it was like to give birth, and to raise children. She felt what it was like to sacrifice for that which you believe in most. With those memories also came the flood of memories from all of the others she had killed. She felt their terror, their fear, their hatred, their manipulation. And deep within her a fire was ignited. It was a fire that could not be quenched, and it was a fire that not even God could put out. There was rage…

Gunshots went off behind her, and she felt the growing chaos within and without. Claire pulled the dagger from Anne’s chest, stood, and turned towards the melee. She was horrified. Both boys were bleeding from gunshot wounds, but they didn’t appear to be fatal. Eric was still on the floor, but his shear strength was winning the day, and he wasn’t about to let his wife’s death go unpunished, no matter who stood in his way.

Gabriel the angel took hold of Claire’s shoulder and pulled her along, past the struggling men, and into the hallway. “Get out of here, Claire! It doesn’t matter where you go, just get out of this timeline!”

But Claire took off up the stairs, instead. She needed her backpack. Despite how fleet of foot she was, though, she heard the screams of the boys telling Gabriel to “look out” as the escaped Eric bounded past him and after Claire. She pushed through the door to the guest bedroom and into the cold air, having left the window open for just this type of scenario. Grabbing her pack and holding it out in front of her, she ran at the window and jumped. She heard three gunshots as she flew through the window screen and onto the roof of the porch on the backside of the house. The ground came up quickly to meet her as she rolled off the roof and fell, the pack providing ample padding to keep bones from breaking and breath from being lost.

“You took her from me! Why?!!” Eric screamed at her through the window. He pointed the gun at her and fired. But there were no more bullets left, only quiet, empty clicks.

Feeling Anne’s love for Eric inside of her, Claire looked him deep in the eyes and said, “I love you…”

Eric watched in disbelief as the woman disappeared in a flash of white light. His world had fallen apart…

* * *

Claire found herself in a desolate world, but she didn’t care how it had gotten that way. She didn’t even care about finding her other, if there was one in this reality. Numbly, she walked to the nearest house, abandoned and dank in the mild, rain-soaked New Year’s Eve weather, and built a fire to keep warm. She pulled an old friend from her pack, Sweet Emotion: An Anthology of Heartfelt Poetry. As she paged through the book, the new rage inside of her simmered beneath the surface. She wondered if this is how the Incredible Hulk must’ve felt. That is my secret, Captain. I’m always angry.

The rage stopped her on page 109, the long title read She Welcomes the Darkness While Wandering the Destructive Halls of Hell, by Corinna Hall:

Look in her eyes, lose yourself in their depths

You’ll experience her constant battle, her forgotten fights,

Her struggles with life, but be wary of her strength

Where she battles her demons all through the nights.

***

Look closely and you’ll see her torment swirling the surface

As the demons write their names, etched into her bones,

She welcomes them into her Soul through the darkness

As she is wrapped in her cloak of skulls and crossbones.

***

Her Soul is the blood drenched battle ground, trampled

By haunted ghosts of torment and screaming wiles,

A graveyard of broken and forgotten stories of her life

Tales of her gory survival, hidden behind guileless smiles.

***

She is in her element as she wraps herself in midnight

Becoming one with the darkness inside and out,

Broken apart by the moon glow, causing her to howl

Listening for her brokenness as she screams her doubt.

***

In turn, she carves her name on certain tombstones

Cradling the haunted cries of her past love as it dies,

She reduces herself to the ashes for those who hurt her

As she gives the Phoenix her wings, allowing it to rise.

***

She knows she has been forgotten, a whim at most

As they scurry from her path, hiding behind their rock,

She is born of starlight, somewhere far from her world

Lost, unable to find her home, pain her stumbling block.

***

The storm keeps her company, at one with her turmoil

She’s well aware it’s the only friend she can ever trust,

Its honesty in its own destructiveness for full disclosure

Forgoing the need to lie, pretension of love and lust.

***

The more I watch, the more I realise she is broken and lost

As she starts to become one with the darkness, the shadow,

Choosing to move further from the star that she was born into

Meandering through the halls of Hell, cradling her deathblow.

***

She endeavours to merge with her hellfire demons

Preferring the numbness, the desire to torture and kill,

It calms her eternal fires, her raw and bloody chaos

While she makes love to the evil and depraved at will.

Claire's remarkable journey is headed to its finale, continue reading her fantastic tale in Chapter 17:

I Am Become Death...