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Awakening Story
Alanna stumbled through the hazy room as if she had no clear purpose in mind, or as if the features of the room were not stable.
She stopped at a cluster of couches near a bar. A tall, skinny man with straight brown hair stood next to the bar, surveying
the party, and Alanna made her way toward him.
She swayed a bit as she said, "I need to see Mickey." She pushed her long brown hair out of her face.
The man laughed, loudly and easily. "Mickey? He's--out of commission."
She looked up at him. "What? Jay--no, I gotta see him. What happened to him?"
"They say he'll be out in a year or two, if you can wait that long," Jay said, still chuckling.
"Fucking fuck. Look, Jay, d'you know anyone else? I really need--"
"Yeah, you need help alright, 'Lanna." He paused, sipping a glass of amber liquid in ice. "Look, I know a guy. He's a dick,
though, and I don't like to work with him if I don't have to. Why should I, 'Lanna? Persuade me." He shifted slightly,
so her leg was pressed against his groin, and she could feel him stiffen.
Alanna tried not to cringe. "I'll do whatever you want, Jay."
"Damn straight, you will, bitch." He laughed. "Pretty much what got you into this mess, isn't it?" He turned and ordered
something from the bar, then pulled something small out of his shirt pocket.
He handed Alanna a glass of purple liquid. "Now, you be a good little girl, and I'll do what I can for you. Drink up. And
take this." Jay handed her a small pill.
She didn't hesitate. When the glass was empty, Jay took it from her, and set it on the bar, then led her to one of the nearby
couches. "Take off your clothes and sit down."
Alanna glanced around the room at all the people drinking, smoking, dancing, making out. Then Jay backhanded her. "I said
take your fucking clothes off, you fucking whore."
Alanna lifted her tank top over her head with shaking hands. The alcohol and whatever that pill was were stating to kick
in. The room spun around her and she was barely aware of the people starting to watch her.
She did notice when Jay pushed her roughly onto the couch, and his dick into her mouth.
Alanna woke from a strange dream of flashing lights, swirling colors, and lots of pain. She was lying naked on a couch, and
she was sore all over, but especially between her legs.
There were only a few people left in the room, and they were sitting at a cluster of couches on the other side of the room,
passing a joint. Alanna spotted Jay among them.
She sat up, and an empty beer bottle clattered to the floor from between her legs. She reached down and grabbed her clothes
from the floor.
She paused while putting on her shirt. It was slightly damp, and smelled of urine. She pulled it on anyway.
Alanna stood up unsteadily and looked over at Jay, who beckoned her over.
When she was standing next to him, he said, "Brandon, this is Alanna. 'Lanna, this is Brandon." Jay gestured toward a heavyset
man on the other side of the circle of couches. "You've got an appointment for Monday, 'Lanna. Come here 'round three, and
I'll take you to his office." He took a drag on the joint, and handed it up to her.
As she raised the joint to her lips, Jay continued. "And don't worry about payment, 'Lanna, it's already been taken care
of." He laughed, and Alanna passed the joint to the next person.
"Thanks, Jay, I appreciate your help. You, too, Brandon."
Jay smirked at her, and Brandon nodded his head once, with no expression on his face. Alanna bowed her head and left, shaking.
She walked out of the building, onto the streets, heading for the condemned building she was squatting in this week, with
only one thing in mind: the small baggie sewn into her sleeping bag, hidden beneath the loose floorboards.
Monday, three o'clock, Alanna showed up at Jay's place. He took her to a warren of alleys, and led her through the various
twists and turns until they came to a spot that was slightly larger than most of the other alleys. Brandon was already there,
sitting on a large crate, a nest of blankets on the ground beside his feet, and a small black case next to the crate.
Brandon nodded to Jay, who turned around and stood watch the way they'd come. Brandon gestured to Alanna to lie down on the
blankets. She nodded once, swallowed, then reached into her back pocket for the pill she'd put there this morning. She got
onto the blankets, feeling sick, and swallowed the pill.
Brandon opened the small black case, but Alanna couldn't see what he was doing. And slowly, the pill began to kick in.
I'm floating in this sharp lemon mist, riding waves of cinnamon and silent screams, when he takes off my pants. It's--I know
that's what he's doing, because I have this strange double vision, seeing both what Brandon's doing to me--when I care to
look--as well as this world of lemon mist and diamond waves.
Soon I feel the black screaming chorus scraping at my insides, peeling me raw from the inside out, killing something inside
me, and I know he's begun his work.
Then, out of the raw liquid sky, She steps into my view.
Now, I've never been religious. It's kinda hard to believe in a kind and loving Father God when your mortal dad is beating
you during the day and fucking you at night, and you're seven years old.
But as soon as I see Her, I know it's Her-with-a-capital-H and She-with-a-capital-S. Black hair falls to Her waist. Her
full, naked breasts are parted by the leather strap of a quiver. Her eyes are a lime green. Her expression is hard to read.
"You're dying, Daughter."
Sugar snow is flowing around me like fire as I answer Her, "I know." And I do. I can feel it, life flowing out of me like
diamond scent. "Are You here to take me away? You don't look like it's Your job to drag people to hell."
She raises Her eyebrow. "Are you going to hell, then, Daughter?"
I laugh, a shuddering laugh, and wonder briefly what Brandon thinks of me, laughing at a time like this. But it doesn't matter
what he thinks. I'm dying.
Finally.
"Not likely I'm going to heaven. It doesn't matter anyway, does it? My life has been one hell after another, and I don't
give a shit anymore." The world erupts into angry cinnamon laughter, as I contemplate what I've just said.
Anymore. I don't think I've given a shit since the day they took Jakob and the girls away. Protecting them gave me life
purpose. Suddenly, they were gone, and I was a fucking waste of human flesh.
"You think it's your fault, Daughter?"
I'm suddenly confused. Is She talking about my life being hell, or what happened to my siblings?
"Of course it's my fault. I was the one who called Social Services. I was the reason they got taken away.
I took away my own purpose, I made my life a meaningless hell, and I'm responsible for the--ten? twenty?
shit, has it only been four?--years of useless fucking wasted existence since then."
She just stares at me, not saying a word, and I can't tell what She's thinking. She's not smiling. She might be pissed.
It doesn't occur to me to think She might not know what I'm talking about, Social Services and my brother and sisters and
all. Of course She knows.
"Listen, am I dying, or what? I just want to finish this, not stand around chatting about my shitty life. I just want my
shitty life to end, you know?"
She smiles, a small, hard smile, and She kneels down so Her face is inches from mine. "That can be arranged, Daughter."
And She lays two hands on my belly, and this white light comes from Her hands, and my insides feel hot, and suddenly I'm completely
aware of my surroundings, no more screaming tastes and hard liquid sounds.
Brandon and Jay are gone. Brandon's little case is gone, too, but the blankets are still under me. There's a lot of blood;
the blankets are soaked with it.
I stare at Her. "What the fuck just happened? I thought I was dying!"
She gives me this look, fierce and hard, and somehow caring all at once, and She says, "You said you wanted your shitty life
to end. Today you can start on your good, normal life. Getting you off the drugs is the first step. You need to be aware,
Daughter. You need to be aware of your surroundings. You need to be fully awake to life, Daughter, in order to not waste
your life."
"I--no. No, I don't want this. I--"
"Look, Daughter!" She points at the soaked blankets, soaked with my blood. She points to something small and pale in the
center of all the blood. "I don't care what you want. Look what you have done, Daughter. You will give me your life in
exchange for the one you took."
I glance down, and then look away. I want to throw up; I feel sick again. But She takes my head in Her hands, in Her very
strong grip, and forces me to look.
It is a very small body. It is perfectly formed, and could fit in my cupped hands. I don't know how it managed to hold on
as long as it did. The others miscarried in the first three months or so. I sure as hell wasn't taking care of my body.
But this--child somehow managed to hold on, to survive, even with all the shit I was putting it through.
The wire hanger Brandon used cut it to shit. The delicate skin is scratched up, the eyes--the longer I look, the sicker I
feel, and I do throw up. Turn my head to the side, and vomit all over the alley wall.
"You will remember this, Daughter. You will remember this child you didn't want. And you will give your life in service
to me, for the child you slaughtered." Her voice softens somewhat. "That is my domain, Daughter. The young, the pregnant
mothers."
I look up at Her. "Who are You?"
She smirks. "Took you long enough. I am Artemis, Daughter. You are my child. Though I think a new name, to go with your
new life, would be appropriate." She stares at me a while. "Tannin. Tannin, it is."
Tannin. The new name catches me kind of off-guard. But I like it. It's better than 'Lanna, anyway.
She--Artemis--holds Her hand out for me to take. "Come. We have a lot of work to do."
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