'Faithless'

by

Darren Robin Scothern

W

hen Nadine heard the doorbell ring, she was standing naked in front of her bedroom mirror, the curtains firmly shut. She snatched up her bathrobe, and pulled it tightly around her. Lately, she'd had this feeling; that she was being watched. She'd found herself looking over her shoulder, expecting to see… something. Nadine was only twenty-one years old. At times, she felt more like forty-one, battle-weary and world-wise. But other times, she felt as confused and innocent of the world as her three-year-old daughter, Libby.
Nadine had watery green eyes - Zach called them faraway eyes - and straight hair, dyed black from her natural mousy brown. She was slim, if not athletic, and the stretch marks across her middle didn't bother her the way she'd heard it did some single mothers. But she wondered, would they put Zach off, when he finally touched her? Libby was away, staying with her dad, so maybe tonight…

"Hang on," she called. It was only a quarter to eight; Zach was early. But when Nadine answered the door, there was no-one there, just the dying sun, setting blood red against the industrial grey smog of the city skyline. The street outside was empty, the local shops closed up for the night. But damp boot-prints led up the metal steps to her apartment over the liquor store, she now saw, and a package lay at her door, in silver gift-wrap decorated with angels, and tied, not with ribbon, but with old, fraying string.

"Zach?" Nadine called. Maybe he was playing some silly trick, and was hiding somewhere. No reply. "Damn it," she said. Nadine hated surprises; no news was good news, as far as she was concerned. Nevertheless, she picked up the package and took it inside.

It was a small, light package, and she could feel at least one loose object move inside as she tipped it.

She cut the string with scissors and ripped off the paper, to reveal a blank, cardboard box. Inside, there were photographs, a string of rosary beads and a few words written on a scrap of paper, in child-like block letters:

YOU MAY BE IN THE WORLD, BUT YOU ARE NOT OF THE WORLD

Nadine sighed. She recognised the beads; a present from the crazies at The Church of Christ, Returning. Those wackos really needed to get a life. For all Nadine knew, the note had been written by her ex-husband, Jez. In fact, she'd bet on it. The photos confirmed her fears. Blurred Polaroids, but she could see enough. The sick bastard had been following her, taking photos of her when she was out with Zach. It was this kind of shit that kept Nadine awake at nights when Libby was staying with her dad. The access agreement was that Jez picked Libby up on Friday afternoons, and delivered her back to Nadine's apartment on Sundays. Nadine hated the weekends, knowing that Jez and his loony, pseudo-Catholic / voodoo, new wave, charismatic, evangelical doom-preachers were filling poor Libby's mind with their fire-and-brimstone, end-of-the-world, demons-in-every-corner bullshit, but she was stuck with it.

There was a photo of Jez in Libby's bedroom. Every weeknight, Libby kissed it goodnight. Nadine took the Polaroids, beads and note in there now, and held them up to Jez's smirking face.

"See these?" she yelled at him. "You can shove them right up your ass! I've divorced you! It's been three years!" The photo of Jez just smirked back serenely at her. Nadine wanted to smash the photo frame and rip the picture to bits, but she stopped when she felt a sudden sensation of nausea. She stumbled as she lost her balance, her head swimming dizzily. Her vision darkened, as though blackness filled the room, and she thought she was going to pass out. But then the doorbell rang again, and the sensation passed.

Shit, Nadine thought. This time it will be Zach, and I'm still not ready. She straightened her robe, made sure nothing was showing, and answered the door.

Zach stood at the top of the steps. His thoughtful, powder-blue eyes, seemed at odds with his red-dyed, spiky hair, black jeans and shirt, and the studded bracelets and belt. People who didn't know him probably thought things like; Punk, Goth, Junkie and Pervert when they saw him. The Goth part was right, and Punk was debateable, but Zach hated drugs of any kind - he'd never even tried a cigarette, and didn't drink alcohol. People have such stupid preconceptions. As far as the Pervert part went, Nadine had found out the hard way that her wonderfully devout and upstanding ex-husband was the sickest man she was ever likely to meet in that department. But Zach was a saint.

Nadine had met Zach three weeks ago, when he rescued her from one of Jez's tantrums outside Club Dionysus. She'd been out with her girlfriends, but left early because she was tired. Being a single mother can do that to you. When she got outside the club, she found Jez waiting for her, waving a bible and screaming about sin and eternal damnation. It had been Faithless; the Goth night, at the club. Nadine had been wearing a ripped black dress, fishnets, black makeup and her old Christ, Returners silver crucifix. Jez flipped. Nadine just walked away, but the crazy bastard chased her, and grabbed her by the throat. That was the last thing he should have done. Straight away, it brought back memories of when they were married: his domineering; the way he would pin her down and make her do things, because God said it was okay. Just as Nadine was starting to panic, Zach walked up and kicked Jez's ass. That was the one good thing that came out of the whole embarrassing spectacle: Nadine met Zach. She spent the rest of that night in a 24-hour burger bar with him, just talking, and he was nice, and cool, and sweet. They'd dated a few times since, but nothing serious. This was the first time she'd invited Zach to the apartment. She'd chosen a night when Libby was with Jez, because introducing Zach to her daughter was just too much of a huge step. Nadine wasn't going to be one of those single mothers always introducing new boyfriends to her kid.

Zach stood in the doorway now and said, "So, are you going to invite me in?"

Nadine felt the blush rise in her face. So far, she'd just stood and stared at him. It was weird; she'd found herself doing that sometimes. Zach had this unaffected sexiness, a kind of magnetism. It was the best kind of cool; the sort some guys just have without trying. Tonight, though, it seemed somehow magnified. It was as though he'd looked inside her, found what she thought was the sexiest thing ever, bottled it, and doused himself in it. Christ, she could barely keep her hands off him. It was more than three years since Nadine last had sex. Jez was the only man she'd ever slept with, and you could hardly call his demands lovemaking. The only orgasms she'd ever known were of the DIY variety. "Erm, yeah, come in," she mumbled, pulling the robe tighter around herself again. "I'm not quite ready yet," she said. "Go get a soda from the fridge, if you like. I won't be long."

"Okay," Zach said. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before heading to the kitchen.

She almost ran into her bedroom. Just a kiss on the cheek, and she was tingling. What would he be like in bed? The flush in her face intensified. Stop it, she said to herself. You're a dirty little sinner, and you're going to hell!

Her reflection in her dressing table mirror didn't smile back at her. She tried to joke about things like sin, but she couldn't get rid of that superstitious fear. No matter how much of a material, logical person she told herself she now was, years of religious upbringing, firstly with the Catholic Church, and then with the crazies at the Church of Christ, Returning, just wouldn't fade away. Not only in the way that she often felt God was watching, but her thoughts kept returning to the stories of the invisible demons that the Christ, Returners said were all around; invisible but real. Creatures that knew your every thought and were hell-bent on devouring your soul. The elders claimed the power of God let them exorcise these beings, even bind and command them. But the rest of the human race were just sinners, born into guilt, and fair game for various demonic predators.

Religious bullshit maybe, but the fear and guilt remained.

Nadine threw her robe onto the bed and slipped into her underwear, biting down on the thought of leaving it off, and calling Zach into the bedroom. What could she say? Something like, Come and get it, big guy? She blushed again, but not from shame, this time. More from her embarrassment that she wouldn't even know how to make the first move with Zach without totally making a fool out of herself. Looking back in the mirror, she saw the Nadine-face that was still a frightened little girl. "What is this?" Zach said from behind her. She spun around and saw him in the doorway of her bedroom, holding the photos Jez had sent. He was smiling but not in a way that suggested he was amused. Nadine glanced down at herself. She was in bra and panties, that's all. Only Jez and doctors had seen her like this before. Slowly, trying not to panic, she picked up the robe from the bed. Zach looked at her; his gaze moved up her legs, past her hips, and breasts, her neck, then finally, he locked eyes with her and grinned.

"I'm… not ready," Nadine said.

Zach did an about-face. "I'm sure you're ready," he said, and then returned to the living room.

I should have asked him to come in, Nadine thought, and left the robe on the bed; just kissed him… It was too late now, though, so she called to him, "Let me get my robe on, and I'll tell you about it."

They sat on the couch together, drinking soda from cans, and Zach studied the photos, smiling, while Nadine talked.

She'd told Zach some of her background already, including that Libby's dad was involved with some freaked-out cult. Now, she decided to tell him the full story. Nadine had been raised in a strict Catholic family, until her dad died. Dad had been a builder, and he often helped with repairs in the church. One day, he fell off a ladder and smashed open his head on the altar. He was dead before they got him to the hospital. Nadine had been eight years old. Mom blamed God, and had a nervous breakdown not long after. As a result, she swore off church, and renounced her faith, which effectively meant Nadine did also.

Mom recovered, but she was never quite the same. But a couple of years after dad had died, mom got involved with the Christ, Returning weirdoes. Suddenly, she had her faith back. She was full of guilt for how she'd turned her back on God. This new church had given her a fresh chance with the Lord, though.

At first, Nadine had enjoyed the new church. Mom was happy, and Nadine met new friends at the Sunday school, and at the twice-weekly prayer meetings held at the homes of the church members. But when Nadine hit her teens, things changed. She had to go to special Sunday school classes about the dangers of sex, and about how God knew every sinful thought in your head.

The Christ, Returners had a different relationship with God than the Catholics did. They didn't need priests to authorise forgiveness; each member of the church had a personal hotline to the Almighty, through prayer. The relationship was personal and one-on-one. But you had to have good thoughts, because thinking about committing a sin was as bad as doing it. The wages of sin, apparently, were death. And for hormonal teenage girls, just about everything you wanted to do, say or think was sinful. And Almighty God, omnipotent creator of the universe, always had one eye on your thoughts, ready to blot you out of the afterlife for your sinful desires, or maybe just leave you behind, alone in the nuclear holocaust that would surely follow the Rapture, when all good Christians were taken up to heaven, before hell - quite literally - broke loose. It scared the shit out of Nadine.

The Church of Christ, Returning has a way to ensure young girls don't lose their souls to lust: marry them off as soon as they are sixteen. Nadine didn't fancy the nuclear holocaust, or an eternity in hell for that matter, so she didn't complain when her fiancé; twenty-five year old Jeremiah, or Jez, was introduced to her. They were married on Nadine's sixteenth birthday.

The next year, mom died of a stroke. She left everything to the church. Jez and the church were all Nadine had left. Nadine had assumed that Jez's sexual inclinations, and his peculiar method of birth control (the church didn't allow contraception) were the norm. But not even the Church of Christ, Returning could keep everything away from an inquiring mind in a world full of TV talk shows and women's magazines, with their juicy agony aunt pages.

When Nadine told Jez she wasn't happy, that she was sick of the things she had to do for him, he beat the shit out of her. When she went to the police, Jez was apologetic, and begged her forgiveness. Nadine's church conditioning kicked in, and she honoured her husband.

But their marriage went from what Nadine was beginning to realise was bad, to what she eventually knew was hell. Finally, she cut a deal with Jez. She wouldn't tell the church elders about his sexual preferences if he let her go back to school and finish her education. Grudgingly, but terrified of the judgement of his peers, Jez agreed. It spelled the beginning of the end of the marriage. The company of young girls who didn't have to worry about their husbands, or church, or sin and guilt, changed Nadine. These girls went out and had fun. Even the Catholic girls were on the pill and carried condoms.

The girls couldn't believe the life Nadine was living. Eventually, they persuaded her to go with them to Club Dionysus. The lie she told Jez was that she was joining in a study evening at one of the girls' houses. The truth was, she got dressed up in a borrowed mini-dress and high heels, went to Club Dionysus, and got hammered.

When Nadine came out of the club that night, Jez and the elders were waiting for her. Some of the men from church had been handing out evangelical flyers to the sinful youth of the city. They'd seen Nadine, dressed like a harlot, go into the club. They told Jez to take his wife home and deal with her. The bastard did that, all right.

Jez beat the sin out of Nadine. He beat the shit out of her, and he beat the joy out of her. And when he'd done that, he had his right as a husband with her, as well. This time, he didn't turn her over to practice his birth control, though. You'll be a good wife and mother, now, he screamed at her, as she lay under him, battered and bloody.

The next day, Jez went to work as if everything was normal. Nadine left the house with only the clothes she stood up in, and never went back. The police put her in touch with a spousal abuse centre. Nadine renounced her faith, and hoped her mother would forgive her. Jez never contested the divorce, but nine months later, when Libby was born, he fought for his right to access, and got it. The Judge felt that a Christian influence on Libby's upbringing would be a good thing. In return, Jez paid enough in child support for Nadine to rent the apartment.

"That's how I ended up here," Nadine said.

Zach looked at her with unreadable eyes. "Still interested?" Nadine said.

"You're perfect," he said. He put the photos down on the coffee table, next to Nadine's crucifix, and then kissed her on the lips. Her skin tingled, and her heart started to hammer. "Whoa," she said, pushing him away. She instantly regretted stopping, but she was aware of the robe slipping open over her leg, showing all the inside of her thigh. Okay, so he'd already had a glimpse of her near-naked, but even so, she was shaking; with nerves, with shame, but mostly just with feeling so horny.

Zach looked at her, questioningly.

Get a grip, girl, she told herself. She forced an unsteady smile, then resumed the kiss. Zach responded, and their tongues entwined again. Nadine's body trembled as though an electric current ran through her.

Do you want me? Zach said.

Their lips were pressed together, and all Nadine could hear was the rushing of her blood, but somehow, Zach asked the question.

Yes, she thought back at him, not sure if she was imagining it, maybe hallucinating, but too horny to care.

Say it.

Nadine broke the kiss. She looked at Zach through blurred eyes, her skin tingling, her hands shaking. Nothing felt real, except Zach. "I want you," she said.

Zach smiled. "I want you," Nadine said again. She stood and unfastened the robe, let it drop. Her natural shyness was now buried under pure lust. Zach unfastened her bra and threw it to the floor. He knelt in front of her, and slid her panties to her ankles. Nadine stepped out of them, and then she was on the floor, under him. And she screamed.

Zach wasn't Zach anymore. This thing crouching over her looked like Zach, it was shaped like Zach, and it was undressing itself from Zach's clothes, but somehow Nadine knew. This creature, whatever it was, suddenly seeped hate and malevolence. It grinned down at her, with eyes that were hollow. "Faithless," the thing said.

Nadine screamed again, and tried to get to her feet. The scream died in the air, which now seemed thick, like a fog. Darkness swelled from the corners of the room.

The Zach-thing pushed Nadine back to the floor, forced her legs apart, held her down with one hand that burned where it pressed her throat, choking her life away.

Demons in every corner, Nadine thought. She reached out with one hand, trying to grab the crucifix on the coffee table, catching hold of it just as the Zach-thing brought its pelvis closer to hers. She slammed the crucifix into the side of the Zach-thing's head, then brandished it in front of its face.

"Get off me," she gasped with the last of her breath. The Zach-thing looked at the Crucifix and laughed. The crucifix evaporated, slipping away from Nadine's hand like smoke. "God has abandoned you, faithless one," the Zach-thing said. Its breath was vile in Nadine's face.

Now, Nadine was back on Jez's bed, his fist pummelling, her ribs bruised, her eye swollen, blood flying from her face with each new punch, Jez pressing, forcing, into her. You'll be a good wife and mother, now. Jez, who knew what God thought was right.

And now, she was on the floor again, as the Zach-thing pressed down on her, stronger than Jez had ever been. Nadine closed her eyes, and she was in darkness. God, if you're really there, she silently prayed, we need to talk. If you're the kind of God who wants a church full of people like Jez, then I'm an atheist.

The Zach-thing suddenly jerked away from her.

If you're the kind of God who wants me to hate myself for being the imperfect human you made me, I'll take my chances in hell.

The Zach-thing was no longer a weight on Nadine, but she kept her eyes closed.

If you want me to waste my life, obeying hypocrites on the off chance that faith might save me, well I'm sorry. See you on Judgement Day. Libby, I love you.

Nadine opened her eyes as the Zach-thing screamed. It staggered backwards, waving its hands as though they'd been scalded. Howling, it evaporated; turned to smoke, just like the crucifix had. Then darkness poured into the room, blotting out everything.

Nadine's eyes snapped open. Her heart boomed so hard, she could feel it pound against her ribs. Sweat dripped from her forehead. Her hands shook, where she propped herself up on Libby's bed. Libby's bed. She was in Libby's bedroom, in her robe. Jez smirked at her from the photo frame. The clock said it was a quarter to eight. The contents of Jez's little gift box were scattered over the floor, and the blocky handwriting of the note was clear: YOU MAY BE IN THE WORLD, BUT YOU ARE NOT OF THE WORLD

Loud banging boomed from the front door, and Zach's voice called out, "Nadine! Are you in there? What's wrong?"

As Nadine watched, the gift box evaporated into smoke. The rosary beads and photos melted away. The note burned with a green flame, into ash that dissolved.

Nadine pulled her robe tight around her. "Hang on," she called, as she went to answer the door. "I'm okay."

I'm okay, she thought.
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