Possessed (13 page)

“
No,” I said, as I stood up
and crossed my arms. “No. You can’t blame one person for all of
this. For the world’s problems or your own problems. I know how you
feel. I’ve spent most of my life feeling the exact same way. You
feel insignificant and unworthy because the people that were
supposed to love you unconditionally never did and you can’t figure
out why. You figure if your own mom wasn’t capable of loving you
that must mean you’re a monster. You think that there is something
wrong with you and that somehow you’ll never be good enough for
anybody or anything because every time you look around it seems
like everyone else has it better than you. Your mom, dad, and that
girl that you loved with so much fire left you alone in darkness.
Everyone you ever loved has disappointed you. It sucks. I know it
does, but there’s nothing wrong with you and from where I’m
standing, the only person you’re hurting is yourself. You don’t
deserve to live like this.”

Ivan stood up and placed his right hand
on his bum-chin. His expression wasn’t angry anymore, it was simply
detached and distant, as if he had simply blocked out my little
speech. There was a slight frown on his lips which lingered for a
few seconds before it turned into a large smile. He placed his arms
around my waist and brought his lips to my ear. “How much are you
worth, queen? Let’s put you up on that stage and then afterwards we
can discuss your armchair psychologist viewpoints. It’s so easy for
people on the outside to preach, but once they get a taste of
what’s on the inside it’s a whole different story. So, spare me
your childish Disney-Channel conclusions about how you think I
feel.”

I pushed him away. “I’m trying to help
you,” I said firmly. “The world is trying to move forward while you
insist on living in the past. How are you helping
anything?”

He shook his head and looked at the
roof as if he were suddenly exhausted and defeated. “I don’t want
your help. How many times do I have to keep repeating myself before
it finally sinks into your little brain? So, how much are you
worth?” he asked again, as he placed his arm around my shoulder and
ushered me towards the grimy men standing by the stage, who I
finally realized weren’t actors but actual slave traders. “Hmmm,
let’s see. You’re young; kind of puny, not too shabby looking when
you put in some effort, so that would make you a perfect maid or
something. You know, eye candy for your owner. Trust me, they love
eye candy. You’re worth roughly six hundred and fifty
dollars.”

Six hundred and fifty? That’s all I was
worth? I could be bought for less than the price of a designer
dress or a flat screen. How pathetic and humiliating. Was my life
really worth so little?

“
You brought me here to sell
me?” I asked in disgust.

“
No, I brought you here to
make you understand why your little boyfriend deserves eternal
damnation. But since you’re tragically stubborn and embarrassingly
stupid, I have no choice but to take more drastic measures. You’ll
see things my way eventually and when you do, I’ll let you go. We
can be friends, queen. I’ve never had a friend before. Well, except
for that one time and what a mistake she turned out to
be.”

“
Let go of me.” I tried to
shake myself free but his grip was too tight.

His words filled me with a rage so
intense that all reason or rationality abandoned me. All that
remained was pure, unfiltered fury that surged through me from head
to toe. My desire to rip his head off had returned and I knew that
I needed to make a run for it now. So, I relied on raw animal
instinct and elbowed him hard in the stomach and then ran like
mad.

Chapter 17

Stage Fright

Unfortunately, before I actually had a
chance to make it out of the showroom, Ivan grabbed me and pulled
me back towards him. His nails dug into my upper arm as he dragged
me towards the grimy men standing by the stage.

“
You don’t want to do this,”
I pleaded.

He looked at me briefly. “No, I don’t,
but how else can I get through to you?”

I could have lied and said that I’d
leave but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. I knew that
he was consumed with so much anger that no matter how hard I tried
to reason with him he wouldn’t hear it.

He handed me to one of the men and then
softly stroked my cheek. “Have fun. I’ll see you when you see
things my way.”

I didn’t say anything. I turned my head
away from him and eyed the slave trader with outright indignation.
The trader gave me sickly smile which consisted of rotting teeth.
The gleam in his yellow-tinged eyes indicated that he was enjoying
the fact that I was scared. “Hello,” he said, as he leaned in
towards me. I cringed as the smell of tobacco, dirt and mold filled
my nostrils.

How would I get out of this one? I
reminded myself that I needed to stay calm and not struggle. I
would make my escape at the right time.

I was shoved into a stuffy backroom
where a hundred or so other slaves sat and waited for their turn on
stage. The atmosphere was ripe with fear, anticipation and sweat.
They were silent, eyes wide with panic and hopelessness, as they
watched me stand there like a lost puppy.

I was dazed. A few minutes ago I had
been eating really great food, dancing and drinking cocktails, and
now I was about to be sold. How was it possible that two completely
different events could take place under the same roof without
anybody really caring about the irony of the situation?

A blue dress was thrust into my hand.
“Go change,” sneered the trader. Yes. He actually did
sneer.

I looked at him with rage and grabbed
the dress out of his hand. Changing into that blue dress was a
humiliating experience in itself. At least at Lola’s and Darkwood I
got paid for wearing ugly uniforms. Here it was evident that this
uniform was a symbol of my identity- or lack of
identity.

I almost tripped over the too-long
dress as the trader forced me on stage and made me stand by the row
of miserable looking women.

Standing in a smoke-filled room while
hundreds of eyes inspected me like I was some kind of used car
infuriated me to no end. But there was nothing that I could do.
Nothing at all.

I caught a glimpse of Ivan in the
crowd. His arms were crossed and his expression was hard and
depressed. Is that what he had looked like when he came here to see
if Marie was being sold?

The auctioneer called my name and I
slowly stepped forward.

A scrawny man with a pointy nose and
freckled skin stood up and addressed me. He asked me a question but
I didn’t hear him. I didn’t want to hear him.

It was at that second I realized that I
could do something. I didn’t have to stand there. It didn’t matter
where I ran. I wasn’t for sale and this wasn’t my world. I didn’t
want to live in this world. So, I took a deep breath kicked the
auctioneer who stood beside me and ran off of the stage.

I know I should have run right out of
the show room, but for some reason I had the overwhelming urge to
change back into my ball gown. I raced into the backroom and
slipped out of the generic blue dress and back into the ball gown
then I ran like hell.

Chapter 18

Come Play with Us

I ran out of the showroom and halfway
through the barroom when the smell of John the Conqueror root and
cigarette smoke hit me. I felt Ivan’s arms around me, as he
embraced me in a violent hug that momentarily cut off my
circulation altogether. He backed me up against a wall and then
slowly released me. I glared at him in utter disgust. Despite my
terror and despair, I resolved not to let him see how afraid I
was.

“
Those nice men don’t like
to be kept waiting,” he said sarcastically.

“
This isn’t real,” I said,
as I remembered what Aunt Mae had told me. Voodoo/Hoodoo was highly
psychological.

Please help me, I mentally begged any
spirit that would listen. For the life of me I couldn’t think of
one that would help me out of this situation, given the fact I had
nothing to offer or sacrifice.

“
Oh please, you’re in my
world,” said Ivan with a confident smile.

“
Oh my God, you really are
obsessed with The Shadow Man.”

Please anyone. Help me. I’ll do what
you ask of me. Please.

“
Arelia. Arelia. Kiss him.
Distract him and then come play with us. We want to play. If you
kiss him, you can run. If you play with us, we can help you get
home. We want to play. We haven’t played in a long time. We haven’t
played with a powerful queen in years. Kiss him. Distract
him.”

For a spilt second I almost hesitated,
but then I realized hesitation is what got me in this mess in the
first place. So, I leaned forward, as my tongue slid into Ivan’s
mouth, it took him by complete surprise. I kissed him savagely and
angrily. I didn’t think about Louis. I thought about Ivan. Every
ounce of repulsion I had for him expressed itself in that singular
kiss. His eyes closed but mine remained opened. Sucker. Afterwards,
I punched him in the stomach and ran out of the barroom. Not the
most graceful move but it was the only one I could think of at that
exact moment.

“
Where are you?” I asked the
spirit, as I ran down the long hall and tried not to trip over my
ball gown.

Running around in a massive ball gown
was harder than I remembered. In the movies they made it seem so
easy, almost romantic and fairytale-like. Girls who ran around in
ball gowns in the movies moved like enchanted fairies and magical
princesses. Me, not so much. The bodice dug into my bones and the
heaviness of the gown slowed me down to what felt like a drunken
snail’s pace, but I refused to stop. I was worth way more than six
hundred and fifty dollars.

“
We’re in the kitchen. Come
to the kitchen. We’re hungry and thirsty and we want to
play.”

“
There’s more than one of
you?”

“
Yes, we’re twins. Haven’t
you heard of us? Surely you must have heard of us.”

Hungry, thirsty spirits didn’t surprise
me, but hungry, thirsty twin spirits did.

I rushed into the dining hall and
searched for the kitchen door. Around me handsome men and stunning
women laughed and dined in outright joy and rapture, totally
unaffected by the little show that was going on a few doors down.
For a second a strange and unwelcome dizziness gripped me and the
faces around me contorted as if they were sneering at
me.

A young and extremely striking blond
man wearing a velvet waistcoat over a ruffled shirt took a hold of
my hand. His bright blue eyes were full of enthusiasm as he gave my
hand a soft kiss. “Bonsoir, Ma Cheri. Would you do the honor of
joining me for a drink?”

Honestly, I was a little flattered and
a somewhat tempted. “I can’t,” I said, as I pulled my hand
away.

“
Of course you must,” he
insisted, as he took hold of my hand again and pulled me towards a
nearby table.

“
I don’t mean to be rude,
but what part of ‘I can’t’ don’t you understand?”

“
Ma Cheri, I refuse to take
no for an answer,” he said, as he thrust a flute of champagne into
my hand. The pale yellow liquid sparkled enticingly under the dim
lights, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to drink
it.

“
Is something the matter?”
he asked, as he brought the flute to his lips triumphantly and took
a sip. As he did, I watched the liquid change into a deep red
color. In disgust, I dropped my glass as I realized that it too was
filled with blood rather than champagne. It landed with what seemed
like a deafening crash on the shiny marble floor.

I turned around to run, but he grabbed
the tail of my ball gown. “Ma Cheri, why won’t you drink with me?
Help me drink the blood of others,” he said, as he gave me a vile
blood-stained smile. “The blood of others tastes wonderful. So
delicious!”

Do you feel nauseous yet, queen? I’m
coming.

This isn’t real. Snap out of it,
Arelia. It’s only as real as you think it is. I had to keep
reminding myself of that. With every ounce of strength I had in my
body I shook my dress free from his hands and bolted as far away
from him as possible.

“
Where is the kitchen?” I
asked the mystery spirits.

Queen, where are you? You can run but
you can’t hide forever.

“
Keep running Arelia, we’re
hungry. We’re thirsty. We want to play. Run straight. Come play
with us.”

Chapter 19

Marrassa

After fighting my way through the
crowd, I finally managed to spot two silver doors which I assumed
were the entrance to the kitchen. Inside, a blast of hot air and
the delicious scent of melted butter and stewed tomatoes greeted
me. Chefs in crisp white uniforms gracefully chopped vegetables and
stirred pots full of delicious soups while serious looking waiters
filled flutes with champagne. They were so busy that they didn’t
pay any attention to me.