Page 39 of Prayer of the Damned

“Gather ‘round, children,” Ms. Kingsley calls out to the class. “I promise there’s no cause for alarm. Everything we demonstrate during the first year won’t include blood.”

Blood? Fuck, fuck, fuck.My head spins and my muscles cramp.Fucking breathe, Belle. Out of the corner of my eye I pick up on Valentina’s distress, and motion to her that I’m able to control the madness threatening to take hold of me.Of course there’s no blood, you absolute bitch. I can’t bleed anyway.I have a feeling Ms. Kingsley didn’t just happen to pick me, even if the rest of the class isn’t aware of that. Have I mentioned that I’m screwed?

“Self-defense training is very important, and they’ll be about fifty percent of your overall studies during the next three years of your life here with us at the University of Bologna. We believe that fulfilling your calling, which will be selected at the end of your studies, is only possible if you’re able to defend yourselves. Don’t forget, children, we’re at war. And in war you must know how to defend yourselves, not just how to fight.”

Ms. Kingsley finishes her opening remarks, turns to me and brings up her hands in a fighting stance. She nods to me, and I imitate her posture. But my hands are shaking wildly, and my legs are unconsciously backing up until my back hits the ring ropes.

“This is just a demonstration, Bellcolor, you have nothing to fear,” Ms. Kingsley tries to calm me down, but it doesn’t help at all. The look in her eyes could freeze Hell itself.

She darts towards me with no preparation, and all I can do is use my arms to defend my body. She strikes me without pausing, without hesitating, without mercy. I take the hits all over my body. The blows to my sides are the worst. I feel my internal organs rocking, my head is spinning and all I want to do is vomit from the pain pulsing through every point in my body.

“Stop…” I manage to say, but my plea goes unheard. She doesn’t stop for a moment. The familiar lump settles in my throat and I fight with my whole body to weep, to release the tremendous frustration that keeps building up inside me.

I think Ms. Kingsley feels my surrender, because she pauses for a moment. I lower my arms and find that I’m wrong, her kick hits the side my head and my slim body plummets to the mattress.

I sob. Everyone watching us must think I’m a whining baby, I’m not bleeding after all and Ms. Kingsley wasn’t hitting me very hard. But the truth is my whole body aches like hell and I can barely breathe.

“No more…” I raise my hands in surrender as she approaches.

I’m surprised to learn that she wasn’t planning to attack me. She reaches out a hand to help me up. I shrink away as she pulls me to my feet and helps stabilize me.

“That was excellent!” She puts her hands on her hips as she addresses the class. The bitch isn’t even breathing hard, while I feel like I got hit by a fucking truck. “Now that we know what our starting point is, we can build a training program that will produce results quickly.”

A hand rises from within the crowd in front of us. It’s Liam. Ms. Kingsley nods at him, giving him permission to speak. “With all due respect, Ms. Kingsley, wouldn’t it have been better to pick someone who represents most of the class?” His tone is almost as nasty as the smile on his face. Son of a bitch.

“Our strength is measured only by our weakest link,” she replies without hesitation. Is she serious? She beat the hell out of me and somehow I’m still standing. I seriously doubt any of them would’ve lasted as long.

“If that’s our sitch, someone better tell the Devil his army’s fucked,” he says, invoking laughter from the rest of the class.

My hands curl into fists at my side and I feel my blood burning in my body. I can barely hear Ms. Kingsley’s warnings or the gasps from my classmates, pain ignites in the palms of my hands, and that familiar itch in my gums returns and grows stronger as my talons keep growing and digging into my skin. The pain stirs the rage building within me. I lift my gaze to Liam, who balks at my appearance. I want to teach him a lesson. To teach him that words have power. That his insulting words hurt more than any of Ms. Kingsley’s blows. Most of all, I want to prove to myself that I’m not weak. I don’t overthink it and bound forward, but I’m immediately stopped. Ms. Kingsley’s firm hands grip me, and I go wild, screaming, trying to get out of her impressive hold. When I’ve almost squirmed out of her grip, a tremendous blow hits me right in the ribs, and I fall back.

“Fuck…” I hiss, shutting my eyes tightly, trying to get air into my lungs. When I open my eyes I see Ms. Kingsley standing over me, her furious glare freezing me like someone poured a bucket of ice water on me.

“Ten laps, on top of the ones already assigned to you! Now!” she commands, pointing towards the exit to the field.

I mumble curses and barely manage to get to my feet. I don’t look at the excited audience, who are surely all riled up at the thrilling events they hadn’t been expecting for their first lesson in self-defense training.

I’ve only fulfilled half my obligations but my legs feel like they can’t take the physical effort anymore. I doubt I’ll be able to complete all the laps I’ve been tasked with. If I thought the Dean was an incarnation of the Devil, I seem to have found and evenworthier contender for the esteemed title: Ms. Kingsley turned out to be Satan himself.

My pace is so slow that my classmates have long since left the gym, while I still try to complete my punishment.

Valentina says goodbye to the trio and sits on the bench, waiting for me to finish. This time she isn’t cheering me on, she’s just sitting there examining me. At least it’s not fucking raining today. The pain searing every organ in my body only makes it even harder for me.

I wonder if we’re allowed to take sick days, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to move when this nightmare is over. To say nothing of the homework Dr. Abano assigned for tomorrow. I’m really worried I might lose my eyesight at the end of this punishment, because after the last lap my vision’s gotten blurry and black spots are dancing before my eyes.

“I want you to be critical and try to understand what was cut out, what isn’t told and why.” I’m reminded of Dr. Abano’s instructions, and try to understand how we’re meant to know what isn’t told. Are we just supposed to make up the missing information he claims exists in the scripture?

A sense of discomfort stirs in me as I remember my wandering through the library last night. Dr. Abano said he was disappointed I hadn’t found the right questions. Did that mean the library wasn’t the right place to find them?

I come to a halt. Damn, how did I miss that?

We’d read the Old Testament story of Creation today. Even though Dr. Abano said it was just a book like any other, and humans were the one who attributed sanctity to it, I have a feeling that’s not the whole truth about why he chose that book specifically. I’m reminded of the one book in the folklore section that dealt with Jewish mythology. The Old Testament belongs to the Hebrews, didn’t it?

I cross the soccer field in a mad dash, snatching my backpack off the bench and passing by Valentina, who calls my name again and again.

“I’ll be right back! Bathroom!” I wave a hand to keep her from following me.

I run down the campus corridors, completely forgetting that my legs are meant to be totally worn out; something inside me tells me I’m onto something big, and I have to go deeper into the investigation I’d started to find the answers I’ve been chasing since I joined the Devil’s ranks.

---