CHAPTER SIX
Penny: Tarnished
It was a cold morning when Penny heard the Devil again. He had been away for a long stretch this time, but he always returned, eventually. Some had taken to counting the days, but she didn’t see the point of it. What did it matter, really? There was no pattern to it, no reason behind his visits as far as they could see. He came, he tortured, he left, and during the times between his captives wondered which was worse—their turn in the chair or the terror of never knowing who was next, or when.
His roar was unmistakable. Mornings would often sound with whimpers as her cellmates woke, with the dying moans of the ghosts as they fled the sunlight, and with the muffled sobs from children from other cells nearby. Today was different. In the distance, a door slammed open, heavy boots pounded on the floor, the door slammed shut, and a great bellow woke the captive children from their slumber. He had returned, he was furious, and they all knew what that meant. Scores of them would bleed today.
On most days, while the others would wake in anguish to another day in hell, Penny would simply sigh in relief and lay her exhausted head down to sleep away the day. She didn’t know why the Devil had only taken her away once, and never again. She didn’t know why he hadn’t simply killed her, if she was not useful to him. Maybe he kept her to use to manipulate her big brother. He had taken Pike often at first, but not so much of late. His interest seemed to have drifted to children in other cells. There was always that terrifying moment when the door to their cell flew open. Would it be the Dark Man, dressed in black from head to toe, who would wordlessly stomp in and replace their food and sometimes bring more bedding? Or would it be the Devil himself, huge and faceless save for an enormous grinning mouth exploding with jagged teeth, come to drag one of them away? It seemed like so long ago that he had visited their cell. The shrill cries of terror from neighboring rooms on the odd morning suggested he had new, more interesting, prey. But one could never tell. The last hiatus had left them feeling complacent, verging on an estranged sense of safety, when the door had flown open one morning and he had strode in, marched over to one girl’s cot and had hauled her away, screaming. And she had never come back.
And on mornings like this, when he announced his presence with a blood-curdling roar, he would not take one, but many.
They began to scream, all of them, and it was at moments like this that Penny was struck by just how many of them there were. Not just the handful of children in this room, but others in nearby cells, unseen. The echo of his boots stomping down the hall grew louder, as did the screaming, until finally he kicked open a door.
Their door.
He appeared then, monstrous and misshapen as always, and as he strode in the children retreated from him. He didn’t look at them, as he usually did. He didn’t scan the room and select one or more of them seemingly at random and drag them screaming from the room. Instead, he marched to the far wall, the children scattering in his wake. Draped over his shoulder, was a body.
Whoever it was, she was no child. She was clearly a woman, with wet and dirty blond hair that clung to her face. She was dressed in scrubs, as they all were, and her exposed arms and feet revealed many cuts, bruises and electrical burns that betrayed many long sessions with their captor. With a snarl, the Devil flung her against the wall, propped her into a sitting position and locked her wrists in shackles. She fell forward and snapped to a stop, her arms stretched behind her, her face inches from the ground.
“I won’t be needing her for a while,” the Devil rasped, turning back to the door. “But clean her up, and keep her alive. Force the food down her throat if you have to. She will need her strength if I am to continue my work.” He looked about the room and snarled, causing the children to shrink away from him. “You are sure there is nowhere else?”
The Dark Man appeared at the door, and nodded. “The solitary cells still require… cleansing. I am lacking servants, so this will have to do for now. Perhaps if you had not butchered the last of my minions…”
The Devil chuckled, a horrible sound, and waved off the Dark Man’s concerns. “Be patient, my old friend. The universe shall provide. It always does.”
He turned back to the woman. “So be it, this will suffice for now.” He turned and left without another word or a glance at any of them. The door slammed shut, and Penny heard them march away, their footsteps fading away until a final slam of a distant door.
The children exhaled in relief, and rose, shaking, from their points of retreat. There followed a chorus of whispers and tentative questions, which fell silent as one of the children began to approach the shackled woman. His name was Joey, and though he wasn’t the oldest or strongest of them, the other children turned to him often for leadership. He had a quiet, yet sunny disposition about him, one that couldn’t be touched even in a horrible place like this. He carried himself and spoke with a slight smile that suggested that everything would turn out fine. Joey, as far as Penny could see, wasn’t plagued with ghosts.
“Ma’am?” Joey said, and took a small step forward. “Ma’am? Are you alright?”
The woman didn’t answer, and simply swung in place, her chest rising and falling in time with her ragged breathing.
“Lady?” Joey said, inching forward. “Lady, you got a name?” He reached forward, and placed a hand on her arm.
The woman lunged for him, screaming, and Joey fell back on his hands with a cry as her chains snapped tight, holding her in place. Her matted hair fell away and for a moment they all saw her crazed eyes and bared teeth.
Joey scurried away from her, but waved off the concerns of others who came to his aid.
“S’alright, don’t worry,” he panted. “She just startled me is all.”
“Keep away from her,” another girl, Rachel, said. “She’s batshit psycho.”
“Can you blame her?” Pike said. “Looks like he worked her over harder than all of us combined.”
“Lady?” Joey said, trying again. “Lady? You need water? A blanket?” They had both. One thing the Devil didn’t deprive them of was food, water, and basic comforts. “You got a name?”
But now she curled up in a fetal ball, huddling close to the wall. When Joey inched nearer, all she did was curl up more. “Lacey moan trankwill,” she mumbled. “Lacey…”
“Lacey?” Joey prompted. “Is that your name?” He gestured to them to bring him a blanket, but only Penny dared.
“Lacey…” she groaned as he draped it carefully over her. But she didn’t start up again, and she didn’t thrust the blanket away. She just huddled it tightly around herself, or as well as she could with the chains on her wrists, and went into a fit of muttering and moaning.