I remember long ago
When the sun was shinning
The stars were bright
All through the night
And the sound of your laughter
As I held you tight
So long ago...
(Genesis -- Land of Confusion)
There had been strangers in the house today; the girl knew it. The girl heard strange foot steps above her, heard the murmur of strange voices. It was all none of her business really, but when life consisted of endless hours of almost nothing, any difference in the routine of noises above her was worth wondering about. It sure beat reflecting on her sins and praying.
When the girl (as she now though of herself) first came to live down here, she did a lot of praying. She spent hours, entire days, on her knees on the dirt floor begging God to save her from herself, to help her..change what she was. When nothing happened she finally got it through her thick skull, nothing was ever going to happen. God wasn't listening to her prayers. God had better things to do than worry about her; she was safely locked away.
That was the point in her life when Justine Miller stopped thinking of herself as a person, stopped thinking of herself as Justine and started thinking of herself as The Girl. It was also the point where she stopped thinking of her parents as Mother and Father. At first she thought of them as Laura and Paul, but as years passed and they became more distant to her, she started thinking of them as He and She. When Mr. and Mrs. Miller became He and She, Justine became the girl. No capital letters. There were times when the girl wondered about that. The girl lived in the basement because she was pure evil. Didn't pure evil deserve a name, something flashy? Perhaps that was only for un-trapped evil.
The girl didn't question why she lived in the basement anymore; those days were over. She'd spent almost half her life here; the world outside had faded quite a bit. The girl couldn't even remember why she came here in the first place. The girl just knew that when she'd been Justine, she'd done something very bad. Something that showed the world, or at least most of Jericho who she truly was -- The Anti-Christ.
The girl heard noises; someone was opening the door. Over the years, the girl learned to identify every noise associated with this act; her ears sharpened to the point where they would have picked those noises out in the middle of a symphony. First the sound of the chain sliding off the latch, then the bolt being slipped back, finally the creak of the hinges and the stream of light across the stairs. The girl knew from the footsteps it was She. The girl stayed where she was, sitting on the mattress, watching as She carefully made her way down the stairs. There was a single bulb in the ceiling of the basement, but it wasn't on. There wasn't any reason to bother with it; it wasn't like the girl needed to see. The girl knew every inch of the basement.
"Could ya turn on the light please?" She called out.
The girl hesitated, then rose from the mattress, scurried over and pulled the string, flooding the basement with a weak yellow light. Then she dashed back to the mattress. The girl flopped down on her stomach, burying her head in her arms, not sparing She a single glance.
"Ah brought your dinner down," She said in her soft, trembling voice.
The girl knew there was a time when She spoke differently to her, but she couldn't remember how her voice had differed. The girl didn't say anything, just moved her head so she could watch her out of the corner of her eye.
"Aren't you gonna say thank you?" She inquired.
The girl raised her head slightly. "Thank you." She didn't understand why She always insisted on these exchanges of words every day, but She did. There were some days when the girl was grateful for this tiny bit of contact, but today wasn't one of them. Today the girl felt particularly inhuman.
A small table stood at the side of the stairwell. She placed the girl's dinner tray on it. "Ah thought that maybe later you might wanna take a bath," She said.
"Why?" The girl sat up, staring at She, not only because the words surprised her, but because the girl knew it made She nervous. "It's not Saturday night." Saturday night was bath night, the only time of the week the girl got to leave the basement. Her daily cleaning routine took place in the tiny half bath that He had installed when the girl moved down here.
"Well, your fath- Ah mean, Paul, has a meeting at Church tonight, and Ah just thought you might like the chance to soak for a while," She explained.
The girl was suspicious. He had lots of church meetings, but it was only Saturday Night was bath night. "Is someone coming?" the girl asked.
There hadn't been many visitors to the dark in her eleven year exile, but there had been a few. The Man Of God had come once; and a couple of times, The Blackness had visited. The Man Of God wasn't too bad. He'd mumbled over her, waving crosses in her face, speaking the word of God--which made sense because he was the Man Of God--but he couldn't help her. He couldn’t purge what she was from her. The Blackness was different. She didn't like the Blackness, which kind of surprised her, because she suspected in the Days Of Light she'd liked him. Of course, in the Days Of Light, there had been more people and she'd liked most of them.
"No," She said quickly. "Ah...Ah just thought you'd like the chance; If you don't wanna, it's okay."
"Can I change my clothes?" the girl asked, clearing her throat several times. Her throat felt dry and she hoped She brought down a glass of juice with her meal.
"Of course!" She said, sounding a little too bright. "Wouldn't be much point in a bath if you can't change your clothes."
"Okay," the girl said, then thought for a moment. She should say something else. She had certain things she liked to hear. "That would be...nice."
"I-is there anything else Ah can get for you?" She asked. It was a silly question, really. There wasn't a lot He and She allowed her to have.
The girl decided to test her luck. She was giving her the luxury of an extra bath. Perhaps She would give her something else; something the girl really wanted. "Another cat?" the girl asked.
"No!" She answered quickly. "No more cats! You shouldn't have even had the first one down here!" Her voice rose several octaves, sounding almost terrified.
The girl frowned, looking down at her feet for a long time. "Toby was my friend," she whispered softly.
"And look what happened to him!" Before the girl could answer, She turned and started climbing the stairs quickly. Before She reached the top, She turned. "I'll get you later for your bath," She informed the girl, her voice still shaky. "But no more talk of cats! In the meantime, you oughta’ at least try to eat somethin.' You haven't been eatin' enough t'keep a body alive for the last couple weeks."
Who cares? the girl thought, not saying anything out loud. Evil stays alive no matter what it does. She listened for the shutting of the door, the sliding of the chain, and the bolt; then walked over to the food. Ignoring the plate of beef stew, she grabbed at the glass of grape juice and chugged it down. Evil could stay alive no matter what, but apparently it also liked juice.
So if you think your life is complete confusion
Cause your neighbors got it made
Just remember that, it's a grand illusion
Deep inside we're all the same
(Styx--The Grand Illusion)
"So, let me get this straight, Mags," Logan said as they pulled into the driveway of the Miller house for the second time in two days. It was still early morning and the sun glinted off the windshield. He took off the sunglasses he'd been wearing and put them on the dashboard. "You have a plan, but yer not enlightening me. That about the long and short of it?"
Magnus looked over at him. "Whoever said you were dumb, was lying Logan. You catch on fast."
"Cut the humor Mags, it ain't one of yours strong suits," Logan grumbled. "An' I ain't falling for no F-troop routine by sayin, 'who says I'm dumb?'"
"F-troop?" Magnus asked, obviously puzzled.
"Never mind." Logan sighed. He ran his hand through his thick black hair, looking out at the Miller house. "Mags, I know we can handle any situation that comes our way, but would it really hurt t’give me some clue?” Logan didn't like being kept in the dark and most of this trip seemed to involve the mushroom treatment for him. He was glad Magnus had assured him this would be the last time they'd go to the Miller residence. Logan wanted to get out of Jericho as fast as possible, but that didn't mean he wanted to act like a dumb dog while Mags pulled whatever strings he needed with the Miller family.
"Logan, what I'm about to do I'd really rather not." Magnus said, his voice steady. "However, under the circumstances, it's the best idea I can think of. If I let you in on it, I'm afraid you'll start picking holes in it and if I go into that house with any doubts, it will never work."
Then it must be an A-1 dumb plan, Logan thought. He shook his head opening the car door. Thank god they weren't going up against anything serious here. "Well, just call me Pinochio Mags."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Magnus asked as they stepped out of the car.
"Your puppet is ready for you to pull his strings."
Magnus shook his head. "No, I don't need a puppet. I just need someone to be on my side and nod their head in agreement once in awhile."
"Sounds like a puppet to me."
Mrs. Miller opened the door for them almost before they had a chance to ring the bell. She looked at both of them with an expression that consisted of equal parts relief and worry. "Ah knew y'all'd be back today," she told them as she opened the screen door to let them in. "Paul's in the livin' room. He knew you'd be back too."
"How d'ya know that?" Logan asked as he stepped in the door.
"We just knew," Laura explained as she led them into the living room. "We both had that feelin'."
"It wasn't just a feelin' honey, it was God, tellin' us." Mr. Miller said. He was sitting in the same easy chair he used yesterday. He rose for a moment, stiffly. "Good t'see you again," he said, looking mostly at Magnus, before sitting down again.
Logan sniffed once, catching the pungent scent of mineral ice. Yeah, maybe God told ya we'd be coming, but he didn't do a whole lot fer yer back Miller.
Tensions were running high in the room; Logan could feel it. He sat down on the couch, the same place he sat yesterday. Magnus took his place standing by the mantel. Except for the fact that Logan wore a suit today (Magnus asked him too) and Laura Miller wore a black skirt and white blouse, the scene was exactly the same as yesterday.
After declining the offer of coffee from Mrs. Miller, Magnus cleared his throat. "I did as I said I would last night," he announced, looking at Mr. and Mrs. Miller steadily.
"And did God tell you what you should do?" Mr. Miller asked.
"Yes he did." Magnus said, looking down at the couple.
You're a master at intimidation, Logan thought. He admired Magnus, almost in spite of himself. Magnus' voice, the expression on his face looked as if he wanted to set the Millers at ease. It contradicted against the way he stood, looking down at them, unconditionally making himself the authoritarian. Without a single display of his power, he'd seized the upper hand and controlled the entire situation. Logan knew a lot about coercion himself, but his approach was usually straight forward, more physical. This was subtle and it worked perfectly. He leaned back on the sofa and waited to watch Magnus' plan unfold.
"I didn't want to tell you who we were yesterday," Magnus explained, the tone of his voice gentle, but threaded with steel. "Not until I had the chance to meditate and make sure it would be best. With the help of our Lord Jesus Christ, I now know Mr. Devany and I have been sent here to help you and therefore, we can tell you more about us." He paused, taking a deep breath, letting a moment of silence pass to add dramatics to the moment. "I am a sword for God. I cast out the wicked and lead the righteous to the path of enlightenment, for his name's sake."
Logan's eyes widened and he stared at Magnus, not knowing if he should be shocked or laugh. What in the world are you tryin' t' pull!
Paul Miller's eyes widened too, but there was no trace of amusement on his face; instead his expression was one of surprise and. awe. "Are you a preacher?" he asked, his voice a hushed whisper.
"No. Spreading the word of God is best for those whom he has blessed with the gift of speech," Magnus said, pitching his voice slightly lower. "My, our.." he paused to sweep his hand in Logan's direction, which served to add to the dramatics of the situation, "...work is direct. We fight the wicked in the never-ending battle ground of both body and spirit. We are Demon Slayers."
You ain't exactly un-gifted with speech yerself Mags, Logan thought trying not to appear dumbfounded. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Even more surprising, he couldn't believe the Millers' were buying it, but they were. Both Mr. and Mrs. Miller were staring at him in rapt attention, eyes fixed on him as though we were Christ himself come back from the grave. I wonder if there's something in the water supply? Logan thought. Something that makes folks around here paranoid and gullible. First they're lockin' their kids in the basement, now they're sucking up this pile of bullshit like it was the last supper.
"D-demon slayers?" Mr. Miller repeated. "An' you feel God has called you here? Why?"
"Because you are wrong about the girl," Magnus answered, raising his voice, widening his eyes. "She's not the anti-Christ. She's possessed, by a very powerful demon. He has her in his death grip and little by little he's squeezing away Justine and replacing her with himself!"
"Are you sure?" Paul asked in a small, dry voice that tried to be brave, but failed.
"Of course I'm sure!" Magnus glared at him, using the man's own fear to his own advantage. "Do you dare question me? I tell you this, if she indeed was the anti-Christ, you would not have seen it so easily. Jesus himself warned us 'For many shall come in my name, saying I am Christ; and shall deceive many.' She has not deceived you. You recognized her wickedness too quickly."
"Isn't faith always more powerful in the end?" Laura Miller asked, in high, squeaky voice. She was looking at Magnus, almost trembling with fear. "Isn't it our very faith that helped us see her as the actual anti-Christ?"
Magnus fixed his gaze on Laura. His lips curled in a faint smile, but there was fire in his eyes as if he didn't like her questioning him. "As I said, if she was the anti-Christ you could never have figured it out so quickly. In the gospel of Mathew, chapter 24, verse 24, Jesus himself tells us: 'For there shall arise false Christs, and false prophets, and shall shew great signs and wonders; insomuch that if it were possible, they shall deceive the very elect.' No, it can only be the work of a demon. The demon who has hold of her soul is powerful, but your faith is more powerful. You were able to see him for what he truly is, before he could further spread his evil!"
He paused for a moment, letting his words sink into their minds and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "I know this is frightening, but you both must understand, in a way it is a great blessing. If she were indeed the anti-Christ, we would have to destroy her body and soul quickly, but she is only possessed. If she were the anti-Christ, there never would have been Justine Miller. And there is a Justine Miller, crying from the depths of her soul for help, to be free of this!"
As Logan watched Magnus, he fought the urge to laugh uncontrollably. It wasn't that the situation was all that amusing, but Logan knew the large picture. Magnus was throwing crap at them as fast as he could and they were thanking him for doing it. They were about ready to kiss his feet for it, and it was all a show. Magnus didn't believe a damned word of what he was saying. Logan wanted to leave the room before he did laugh and blow the game out of play, but he knew that might look worse. Instead, he rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands, trying to gain control of himself. He knew his shoulders were trembling slightly with the force of containing his amusement. He hoped the Millers were too engrossed with Magnus to pay attention to him.
"S-so do we have to get someone t'do an exorcism?" Paul asked in a horse voice. "Sh-should we be gettin' a Priest?"
Magnus shook his head. "No. It's too late for that. The demon which possesses her has had too many years, for a normal priest to be of much use."
"So what do we do then?" Paul asked, never taking his gaze off Magnus.
"Only I can help her." Magnus said, his voice firm and echoing with sincerity. "Myself and my assistant Mr. Devany. The two of us, God willing, can remove the demon from her soul, setting it free for the glory of God's salvation!"
Laura looked over at Logan to see what he thought of this. He had his face hidden in his hands and his shoulders were shaking. Small, strange, gasping noises escaped from him. "Are you all raght Mr. Devany?!" she asked, immediately alarmed.
Logan could feel all the eyes in the room fixing their gazes on him. Aw crap, he thought, this is silly as Hell, but I can't go blowing it on Mags. Quickly regaining his composure, he looked up and over at Laura Miller. "I'm sorry if I frightened you Ma’am. I-I was just... overcome with the Holy Spirit for a moment. I get this way sometimes when I'm with Mr. Magnus here. He's just so full of Righteousness that.. well, I can't help but be affected."
His expression was deadly serious, but Magnus could see a faint sparkle in his eyes. He knew it was taking everything Logan had not to fall on the floor, rolling with laughter. Just a little while longer, Logan. We'll finish here soon.
Laura relaxed a bit and smiled to Logan. "Ah know what you mean!" she said. "Why jest listenin' t'him talk is sending shivers up my spine!"
She turned her attention back to Magnus. "C-can you help her?" she asked him softly. "Can you save Justine?"
"If the Lord wills it, I can." Magnus said firmly.
"W-will you have t'kill Justine t'get the demon out of her?" she asked.
Magnus closed his eyes for a moment, a pained expression on his face. "I hope it will not come to that, but I won't elude you. Getting the demon out of Justine could very well cause her existence in this life to end. I will do whatever I can to prevent that, but if indeed the worst happens, know this--she will die as the Lord's child and her soul will go to be with him."
"Praise God!" Paul Miller whispered reverently. "When can you do this? When can you save the-- I mean Justine." Now that the great Mr. Magnus, Sword of God, Demon Slayer for the Lord had explained that it was demon possession and Justine wasn't really the anti-Christ, he could accept calling her by her name again.
"I need to begin as soon as possible." Magnus informed him. "But I cannot do it here. This will take a long time and I will need a lot of strength. Mr. Devany and I need to take Justine from her. We need to take her to our...temple. The place is sacred, sanctified by God." He looked at Mr. Miller. "Will you let us take her? Will you give us the chance to save her soul?" He sensed Laura Miller, for all her fear of her daughter, might be reluctant to let them take her away, so he worked on Mr. Miller, knowing if he agreed, Laura would follow.
Mr. Miller's hesitation was barely perceptible. He nodded slowly. "Yes. We'll let you take her." He looked over at Laura, reaching out and taking her hand gently in his. "It's her only chance Honey. Let Mr. Magnus here save her."
Laura's eyes became bright with tears, but she didn't shed one. She squeezed her husband's hand and nodded, blinking the tears away. "Yes, Ah understand." She looked up at Magnus. "Ah jest pray t'God you'll be able to save her without taking her life."
Despite of everything she's done to the girl, Laura Miller does love her daughter, Logan thought. This feeling of unease settled over him, the feeling that the world was slightly askew. He knew everyone saw the world a little bit different from everyone else, but normally people's visions were close enough that peering from one person's into another wasn't upsetting. Now though, he found himself looking into a world where a mother who loved her daughter could lock her in the basement. She could leave her down there, alone in the dark for eleven years and be absolutely terrified of her, but still love her. It was an eerie feeling because if this family could do that out of love, what were they capable of doing out of hate?
Laura Miller rose from her chair. "Ah had a feelin' you'd have t’ ‘take Justine," she said softly. "So ah packed up her clothes an' things..." She pointed to a small suitcase in the corner of the living room. It was a pathetically tiny thing to hold all of someone's earthly possessions. "Ah-Ah'll go get Justine."
She turned to leave, then stopped and turned back. "Is-is it safe for me to get her?" she asked. "I-if there really is a demon takin' her over, wouldn't it know you're here? Wouldn't it sense you're here an' wanna stop you?"
Logan fought the urge to laugh at that statement, but Magnus leaped on it. "You could be right," he agreed. "Perhaps I should go down and get her. I'm quite used to handling matters like this."
"Ah'll raght." Mrs. Miller seemed relieved she wouldn't have to go fetch her by herself.
"D'ya want me t'come with you, Brother Aaron?" Logan asked, keeping a straight face. "Just in case that demon turns out to be a little more'n you can handle?"
Magnus seemed to think about this for a moment, then shook his head. "No. I believe I can handle this one by myself." He stared at Logan steadily. "If I need you I will call you."
The look on Magnus' face told Logan more than his words. Logan's job was to stay up stairs and keep Mr. and Mrs. Miller from listening to what was going on in the basement. I don't know who's got the harder job now. I'm not nearly as good at spoutin' that religious stuff as you are, but I'll give it my best shot.
I wanna show you what lies beneath the surface
In little squares of purple, green and gold
So everyone can see their own reflection
In the Mirror of your soul
(Wang Chung --The Flat Horizon)
The girl hung from the pipe, her feet dangling in the air. Taking a deep breath she pulled herself up by her arms, until the top of her head was scraping the ceiling and her chin tucked under the pipe. She held herself that way for almost a minute before repeating the process again. The girl did this for hours almost every day. When she'd first come down here, after the long praying attacks were over; she spent most of her time curled up on the mattress. It didn't take long before her legs and arms started feeling cramped, the muscles beginning to tighten painfully from lack of use. The girl found that if she paced the basement perimeter it helped the cramps in her legs, but did little for the arms. Then she'd seen the old pipe, hanging from the ceiling and started doing chin ups on it.
These days she didn't use the bar or pace the basement because of cramps, she did it for other reasons. The most important reason was if she did it enough, she tired and slept easier. The other reason was if something bothered her.
This time was a second reason time. The strangers from yesterday were back. She recognized their footsteps and the muffled sound of their voices. Strangers were rare enough in the house, but strangers that returned the next day were even rarer. Even stranger, the girl knew somehow that she was the reason for this return. She couldn't have explained how she knew this -- not that it mattered, no one would ask her anyway -- but she did. She didn't realize that being alone so often, deprived of company, deprived of sunlight had dulled some senses but sharpened others, including the mystical "sixth" sense people were born with, but very rarely used.
Why would strangers want to know about me? She thought as she continued her chin-ups. I can't hurt anyone. I'm locked away. I can't even remember why I'm so wicked, what I do that's so evil. She pulled herself up on the pipe faster, trying to focus all her effort into it, so her thoughts would lock into the steady motion of her arms and body and relax.
As she pulled herself up again, she heard the sounds of the bolt and the chain on the door. She froze. This wasn't She or He. The girl knew how the bolt and the chain sounded when they opened it. This sounded smoother, as if the bolt and chain were coming sliding off on their own power, rather than hesitant fingers working them. It was one of the strangers! Fear gripped her soul as she hung on the pipe, her fingers turning white with the exertion. At least the light is off! she thought, as she heard the sounds of footsteps on the stairs. Maybe, if I hang here, real quiet he'll go away. A thin and fragile thread of hope at best, but the girl clung to it as tightly as she clung to the bar.
The stranger made his way down the stairs with confidence. He didn't seem to be at all afraid of the dark. Confidence and power emanate from him and worst of all, absolutely no sign of fear. The thread of hope snapped within her.
"Justine?"
His voice was calm, perfectly moderated, with the faint traces of an unfamiliar accent. He's smart, the girl thought. He's very smart. She held her breath, refusing to make any noise. Why is he using that name?
"Justine, I need to speak with you."
His footsteps walked across the floor easily, as if he could see in this darkness perfectly well. Then he paused. The girl could tell by the footsteps he'd stopped by the light. She strained to hear the sounds of his arm moving to grasp the tiny chain that would turn on the light, but she didn't hear the arm move. She did hear the sound of the chain being pulled. It was like the bolt and the chain on the door, it seemed to be moving of its own accord rather than being pulled.
She curled her legs up so her knees were touching her chest. As she heard the final click of the light, she dropped from the pipe, thudding to the ground. She splayed her arms out to the side for balance and let out a yowl,"MIrrrrrrrrroooooWWWWW!"
If the girl had done this to He or She they would probably scream or leap into the air, or both--but not the stranger. He flinched once, barely noticeable, and then...smiled. Smiled! At her! It wasn't a nervous smile like the occasional one She gave her and it wasn't a chilling smile like the Blackness always wore. It was a casual, friendly smile. She moved towards him slowly, checking him out. She looked at the neat suit he wore, the pristine white shirt. Her gaze traveled up, taking in the white hair. When she saw the hair, her own lips curled into a smile.
"Justine, I'm Magnus," he said. "I have to speak with you."
He said that as if I was anyone! she marveled. She thought for a moment; feeling his words, his treatment of her deserved some sort of response. "What about?" she finally said. It wasn't quite what she felt she should say, but it was the best she could think of right now.
"Who you are," he said, his voice still smooth, even, almost gentle. For a brief moment, when she'd seen he wasn't afraid of her she thought he was connected with the Blackness, but now she knew he wasn't. He couldn't be. "Justine, you shouldn't be down here."
She knew he was studying her and she wondered what he saw when he looked at her. She knew he saw the basics -- long brown/chestnut hair and brown eyes, delicate features, and very pale skin, but the girl knew most people saw beyond her basic appearance. When He and She looked at her, they saw something dark and evil. She knew when the Blackness looked at her, he saw something he could use. When the Man Of God looked at her, he saw something that needed saving. So what did this man see? What did he know about her? What had He and She told him about her?
"Yes I should," she disagreed. "You talked to them, they must have told you about me." She felt her voice getting dry, a combination of awe at Magnus and talking too much. She swallowed several times.
"Yes, they did," he confirmed. "I know all about you Justine Miller, but you still don't belong here."
"The where do I belong?" She stared at him. In the eleven years of her exile to the darkness, no one ever suggested to her she didn't belong here.
"You belong with me," he answered.
"Aren't you afraid of me?" She tipped her head to one side.
"No, I'm not."
"You're suppose to be."
He shook his head. "Justine, there is very little in this world that can frighten me."
Her eyes narrowed and she looked at him shrewdly. He's holding back! she thought. There are things he wants to tell me, things he wants to ask me, but he doesn't dare. I wonder why? "Where do you want to take me?" she asked.
"To a place far away from Jericho South Carolina," he told her. "It's a place like no other. A place where you'll be able to go outside, to walk around freely. I wish I could tell you more Justine, but I can't. Not until we've left this place and gotten away from...your parents. All I can do is ask you to trust me. Let me take you away from this..." He paused, sweeping his hand to indicate her dark world. "...And bring you back into the light."
Her brows knit as she absorbed his words. Part of her wanted to do what he asked, go with him, but another part of her liked the familiarity of the basement. "I'm not sure."
"I know you're not. This is the only place you've known for a long time."
He moved closer to her. Her first reaction was to step back away from him, but she fought that urge and stayed where she was. She heard her heart hammering in her chest as he moved closer, until he was standing right in front of her. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice sounding dry.
"Nothing but to help you," he said softly. "Nothing more than to get you out of here and get you someplace safe. You're not safe here Justine. You may think you are, but that's only an illusion. If you come with me, you'll be safe. The fear that surrounds you, that's become a part of you will subside."
How did he know? she thought, her eyes widening. How did he know sometimes I'm so afraid. I know I'm not suppose to be afraid, the Anti-Christ should never be afraid, but sometimes I am. Sometimes I'm so afraid I don't know if I'm going to last another night. There's something different about me. I had something when I came down here, but little by little it's slipped away and I'm afraid when it disappears then I'll disappear too.
A prickling sensation started behind her eyes and she reached up and put her hand on his shoulder, unaware that she was even doing it. A wave of emotion she couldn't remember having in a long time rolled through her, relief...and hope. She nodded, solemnly. "Yes," she whispered. "I trust you. Help me."
He reached up and took her hand from his shoulder, holding it gently in his. "Say good bye to this basement, Justine. You'll never have to see it again."