Silly Girl (3 page)

Sparks of pain showered in Amanda’s brain.

And I thought I’d missed the Fourth of July,
she thought.

Her skull was an intense white flare. Jon the Doctor hit her again.

Yes, always slipping away. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. No wonder this crack-pot reality of death is the way it is!

How she was able to think these thoughts, she didn’t know.

She was thankful to lose herself in the darkness when it came. Unconsciousness could, at times, be perfect bliss.

*

When she came to, she was not back in the stars of death. She was still in the hospital, reliving the horror of that day. She thought she was going to throw up. Carousels of light and pain circled through her head.

Jon the Violating Love-Doctor was astride her. He was having his way…

His pants were below his ankles, repeatedly thrusting into her with a single-minded purpose, his belt buckle clanking loudly against the bedpost at Amanda’s feet. Apparently, Jon wasn’t in it to help the sick and afflicted.

Amanda tried to scream. Opening her mouth, however, was painful. She tried to buck him off, but she was too weak, and Jon was far too heavy.

“How do you like
that?”
he panted, between breaths. “Shows
you
who’s boss? There’s plenty more where
that
came from, you know? Hope
you’r
e ready.”

Please! If there was a God, let her go abhorrently into the dark. No wonder He was invisible, the spineless prick! Someone had a lot of explaining to do!

Jon tensed with orgasm. He stiffened, panted heavily, and slowed down.

Amanda tried willing her own demise. If she couldn’t throw up, surely she could will herself to die.

Jon climbed off and buckled his pants, as if violating patients were something he did everyday.

Probably right after he kisses the wife and kids goodbye,
Amanda thought.

Despite the horror, she’d never seen a man look as clownish as Jon did then.

Amanda (shocking even to her) found the courage to laugh. She laughed uproariously! She didn’t know how that was possible, but it was true. Yes, it hurt; the laughter rocked painfully through her. But once she started, she couldn’t stop. She was maniacal with laughter! For some unexplainable reason, Amanda Dear could not stop laughing!

A hateful looked crossed Jon’s face. It was hard to tell in the dark, but his cheeks seemed red with anger.

“What the hell’s so funny?” he said.

“You…” Amanda tried to say, but words were difficult. Pain flared through her face still from what Shelby had done, but she forced herself to go on. She had a statement to make here. Her death would be worth it:

“You’re the smallest I’ve ever
had.
I didn’t even
feel
you!”

A fit of giggles tortured Amanda Dear.

Jon was on her in seconds flat. Now, the Fourth of July was everywhere! Lightening blasts of pain rocked her skull. An angry siren shrilled between her ears. Warm blood spilled down her face. She was going numb…

Amanda Dear wanted to make sure Jon never forgot her…

Despite the damage, she smiled through her swollen, purple face.

Don’t worry,
said Perennial Darkness.
I’m here for you. I’ve been waiting…

As she went down—taking the hand of Darkness, her friend—the last thing she heard was Jon’s incessant whining:

“
Why? Why are you laughing at me?”

*

Eventually, Jon the Doctor died in prison from a violent rape. Where his soul was now was anyone’s guess.

Behind her, lost again in the space of death, Amanda soared.

Flying,
she thought.
You get to fly in death. Is this how it’s going to be forever?

She brimmed with
feeling.
Emotions assaulted her for reason she couldn’t comprehend. They came at her one by one: sadness, despair, and hatred. As if she hadn’t been through enough! Emotion pummeled her from all sides. Emotion came to her in the form of vision. It gained physicality:

The abhorrence she felt living with her overwrought mother came in the form of discharge. Shit crawled with flies. Scorpions moved over mounds of decaying flesh. Poison manipulated the feelings she had for her mother. In death, it came to life and chased her through the stars.

“Amanda this, and Amanda
that,”
he mother always said. She was a wiry woman with heavy black circles under her eyes, a drug-addict. They were standing in the living room when Amanda asked her if she’d drive her and Michael to the park. Amanda had been ten at the time. “Precious little
Amanda
dear has to have everyone stop what they’re doing, so
she
can have her fun! Let me just put my fucking life on
hold!
Isn’t that what life is
like for you, Amanda, darling? Sulk and sulk ’til she’s blue in her room…The whole family has to
beg
and
plead,
has to do a
fire-
dance in order to fulfill
Amanda’s
obligation to her busy lifestyle! God forbid we put a kink in
her
plans!”

It went on and on. Her mother never let up:

“I’m sure
Amanda
had something to do with it, the way she keeps to herself! Just
look
at her?”

“If we didn’t have this extra
mouth
to feed! Michael doesn’t eat as much as you. Goddamn garbage disposal, is what you are. Amazing we have anything to eat at
all.
”

“It’s
Amanda’s
fault you didn’t get the job, Lou.” Lou was her uncle. “See, she didn’t want you to have it in the first place.
Look
at her!”

“Your daddy would’ve stayed with me—he would’ve
stayed
—except for you, Amanda, the Great. Have to take care of
you
all the time, right? Like we’re not starving and on the verge of poverty already! But noooo,
you
want to get your
ears
pierced!
You
want to get a
library
card, so you can spend all you time reading stupid books when you should be doing your homework! Do you know how many people are looking for single mothers? None! That’s how many! Remember
that
when you’re old enough to get a job!”

How could Amanda
forget?
Her existence was to torment, trouble, and build chaos, so mother could unnecessarily mourn her own pity. Didn’t people see how much Amanda’s mother
suffered?

“Screw you, mummy,” Amanda said, raising her middle finger with bold, confident rigidity.

Amanda had a fetish for British comedy. She feigned the accent often. Back in death, she was doing so now:

“See my finger, mummy? See how tall and bright? You and Jon, the Bloody Bastard Doctor can go fuck yourselves! That’s right! Have a
lovely
day! It
is
bright and warm out! Perhaps you should interest Jon in a walk round the park, love?”

Amanda Dear had been quick to leave home. Unfortunately, she was quick to stumble upon Manny, Shelby, and Jon, the Violating Love-Doctor.

Mercy? What was that earlier about an Invisible God? Of course, ladies and gentleman, there’s
always
more!

Once, again the memory washed away.

Through a cool wind—an infinite limbo of time, stars, and wonder—Amanda Dear sailed like a galactic ship—a single face maneuvering through the galaxies of a continually unfolding universe. She was a veteran for a day. If she had to endure hell and murder, she’d create them herself. If pain tarnished her fortune, she had no one to blame but the girl who’d run away years ago.

Contentment to her freedom was another emotion. It came in the form of majestic ships sailing across sun-drenched blue waters.

Space, life, time, longing, and emotion, continued to whiz past her pale, small ears. She piloted herself through a thousands stars of the life hereafter.

Amanda Dear, heralded,
she thought,
you are
pure
woman!

The power of sex moved through her, the purring engines of a cat. She was silk, softened, liquid-like femininity in the way she waltzed from room to room. She turned heads. People gawked at Amanda’s beauty. She was China pure, sand like silver, touchable throat, arms, and back. She was slow honey moving to bold inspiration, the power to be fearless. Amanda Dear was magma, leaving molten paths of jealousy behind every door.

“Second deaths don’t scare me! I’ve asked murderers to lead me to dance! I don’t
trust
anyone else!”

It came down to strength, nothing more. Amanda Dear was getting a handle on this life after death thing. She was starting to enjoy it!

Even the grandest of them all—the One, the Almighty—must be dethroned at
some
time by
some
apostle! Who said a woman couldn’t do it?

Amanda knew her capabilities. Strength of spirit and female vitality were her most powerful allies.

She smiled in the cool air of space. White, blonde hair trailed behind her, ribbons of silver, sparkling nebulous lights.

How much was she capable of creating
or
destroying, she wondered?

*

Instead of stars, she moved through another plane of solid black. Amanda stood in the middle of it. For the moment, she had feet and legs. Unable to see the ground, she could feel it under her naked feet. Amanda Dear wondered why death seemed timid to show her anything else.

A carriage emerged from the dark several feet to her left. She didn’t know how she was able to see because the scene had no light to illuminate it, but she saw the carriage now. Maybe death granted magic eyes.

The carriage looked as if it had traveled through flame: charred, flat black and smoking. It slowed just before Amanda and came to a stop. Four naked, hairless, human forms pulled it instead of horses. Like the carriage, they looked as if they’d been roasted: blistering crusts of flaking black skin; yellow pus oozed. The harnesses were contraptions of steel spikes, hooks, rods, and wires driven under their skin, connecting them in an organized quad. The smell of raw, roasted flesh and burning blood hung in the air.

The solely occupant leaned his head out the carriage window and smiled at Amanda. “Welcome,” he said, his voice strangely elegant. “It’s good to have you home.”

It wasn’t a surprise coming from him. This was the last place Amanda would ever call home.

He opened the door, and Amanda Dear stepped inside. She wasn’t afraid.

As death had granted her feet when convenient, Amanda noticed she was wearing a thin, white nightgown.

Inside the carriage, she could observe the entirety of his bulk. Huge black horns, like a yak, curved, angling out from each side of his head. His scarlet flesh was a mirror of flame, changing from yellow to orange, then from black to red. His tail was huge and thick; it snaked up behind his back and disappeared out the carriage window. His claws and toenails were manicured points of polished black, matching his horns.

Lucifer’s mouth contorted in a demented smile. He endeavored to ooze charm. Heat and flame emanated from his flesh. To Amanda Dear, the devil looked less impressive than how she imagined.

“How
are
you, Amanda darling?” he asked.

“Amanda
Dear,”
she corrected. She smiled, not wanting him to get the best of her. “And I’m
fine,
thank you very much.”

The carriage lurched forward. The air grew thick with suffocating heat.

“I’ve been looking forward to this moment,” the devil said. “It’s
so
good to see you. You know why you’re here, don’t you?”

“Why don’t you enlighten me,” she said.

“Amanda, Amanda,” Satan said, shaking his head. He ran a huge index finger along the frame of the window. “You were always good at pretending to be dim-witted. Just giving you a bird’s-eye view of what to expect before the choice.”

“Choice?”

“Of course!”

Satan said nothing more. Amanda Dear wanted to laugh; he seemed so smugly sure of himself. There had to be more to death than this!

Walls of flame loudly erupted on both sides of the carriage. Was this the Lake of Fire?

“It is the continual Nile, so to speak,” he said.

She must’ve said something. She knew the devil couldn’t read her thoughts.

“You know it?” he said. “You must, or you wouldn’t have made it this far.”

She had to admit he was quite the charmer, despite his slippery reputation.

The flames towered higher. Why had she agreed to come on this ride anyway? Was she
crazy?
She had never—that she was aware—made any bargains with the devil.

Amanda reached for the carriage door. Just as quickly, Lucifer’s scarlet hand engulfed hers.

“Seen enough already?”