The Fallen - Chapter 1

In the Realms of Man, life continued the monotonous grind that left those in Heaven wondering what the point of it all was. Men were born, they bred, and then they died. Was this not proof that they were merely another form of animal stumbling through the days they had on Earth? Was not an angel’s immortality and God-Blessed knowledge the only proof they needed that they were perfect and entitled to whatever they wanted from those populating the lands spread before them?

~*~

Rachelle sat quietly meditating upon a flat sun-warmed rock in the middle of a field full of milling sheep. The village youths thought her odd for always volunteering to take the herds out to pasture, but she enjoyed the peace and quiet. It was the only time she felt truly comfortable… No one staring or passing judgment upon the strange child taken in by Mistress Evangeline all those years ago. The strange child with her shocking white hair and deep purple eyes. The one who looked at you and seemed to stare straight into your soul…

Rachelle sighed and opened her eyes. She was having more difficulty than usual separating herself from her earth-bound body. She used the time in the meadows to meditate and search for the answers that plagued her days – who was she? What was her purpose in this place? Where was her family?

Not that she didn’t love and revere Mistress Evangeline for taking her in and treating her as a normal human being – it was more than anyone else in the village would have done for her. It was only the respect the villagers felt for Evangeline – and their fear that she might someday chose to withhold a healing as retribution for ill treatment of her ward – that moderated the treatment Rachelle received from them on a regular basis.

Rachelle always tried to remind herself that it is man’s nature to fear that which they do not understand, but at 16 it was increasingly more difficult to hold on to that idea. The other girls in the village were affianced or married already. And the only offer Mistress Evangeline had received for Rachelle’s hand had been from Farmer Seth on behalf of his son Stefan a few days ago. But the only reason Seth had made the offer was to secure a healing for his wife who had recently birthed a stillborn child and taken an infection in the process. Seth lacked the wherewithal to make any other payment and had thought perhaps a show of pity for the Healer’s bizarre child would secure the healing Mistress Deana required.

Evangeline looked into Seth’s heart and saw the truth of the offer. And refused the healing. Rachelle had chosen to intercede on Mistress Deana’s part, begging Evangeline to do the healing. Bad enough the village thought Evangeline touched for taking in a foundling, Rachelle wouldn’t see the village turn on Evangeline because she wanted to take the moral high ground on her behalf.

Sighing again, Rachelle stood and shook herself. No point in trying to meditate with all these loose thoughts beating about in her head like a crazed jay stirred with spring fever. She walked slowly through the flock touching a shoulder here, gently rubbing a velvet soft nose there. The sheep were so used to Rachelle’s presence that they thought nothing of her wandering amongst them – she was one of their own. A two legged version of the herd.

An alarmed bleat at the edge of the flock alerted Rachelle to the fact she was not alone in the pasture. Looking back toward the rock she had been warming earlier, she spotted someone seated there. Puzzled she wandered through the flock back toward the rock. A young woman was calmly seated there watching Rachelle approach. Rachelle didn’t recognize her from the village or any of the outlying farms. And she didn’t know of anyone hosting visiting kin. Who could it be?

There was a strange shimmer – almost like a heat shimmer – as the woman stood. She smiled softly at Rachelle, murmured, “Trouble comes…,” and vanished.

Rachelle stopped several feet from the rock astonished. She scanned the area around the rock thinking perhaps her eyes played tricks on her – a woman doesn’t just appear and then vanish! But Rachelle saw no one anywhere near the rock. As she approached, she looked for signs that might show what direction the woman had come from or disappeared to, but the only signs of movement she saw were her own.

A sudden shout from the edge of the field startled her, “FOUNDLING!”

Rachelle cringed. It wasn’t often that anyone bothered to come up to the fields to torment her. It had been several years since anyone had called her ‘foundling’ to her face for that matter. Knowing that whoever was coming was between her and the path back to the village she sat upon the rock to wait. It wouldn’t be the first time she had sat there and taken a heaping of verbal abuse from one of the villagers because she was different. It probably wouldn’t be the last time for that matter.

Stefan crested the small rise that the path followed from the village. His face was crimson red and he was sweating. Rachelle was somewhat confused as to why he would come up here in such a state. Of all people in the village, he should feel some gratitude towards her for interceding on his mother’s behalf. And he should be relieved that he had escaped the onerous task of taking her hand in marriage. Not that she would have married him even had Evangeline been inclined to accept Seth’s request when he first came to the cottage – she would have run away rather than submit – but that was beside the point.

Stefan stopped several feet from the rock upon which she sat and sneered at her, “Well little foundling… Look at you sitting upon your rock thinking as usual of all the ways that you are better than the rest of us common folk in the village.”

Confused Rachelle stammered, “Common folk? What are you talking about Stefan? I’m no different from any of the rest of you…” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew that they were wrong. Wrong a myriad different ways. She was clearly different. Different looks obviously. Different motivations. Different questions. No one else in the village questioned their place in the grand scheme of things. No one else in the village tried to step beyond the here and now. No one reached out for the intangible. No one was truly dissatisfied with his or her lot in life. No one felt there was something more reaching out an intangible and barely sensed hand to her – one that she didn’t yet know how to grasp…

The anger on Stefan’s face was like a beacon in darkest night. Its shining light made it so clear to Rachelle that she could no longer pretend that to stay in the village was an option. She was too different and only the thin veil of Evangeline’s protection had kept her safe all these years. She was practically an adult now and could no longer hide behind Evangeline’s kindness.

“No different from the rest of us?” Stefan sneered. “How can you even say that? Sitting there on your dirty little throne thinking you are too good to suffer the touch of the rest of us?! And your so-called guardian thinking that my touch might somehow be too common for you? Do you think we don’t know why she refused my father when he offered all he had for my mother’s healing? Do you think that we wanted her – or your – pity? NO! All we wanted was a simple healing for my good and decent mother!”

Rachelle stood and protested, “Stefan! You should be grateful for that refusal! Would you really have wanted to spend your life shackled to me? And your father got the healing that he wanted. Your mother is doing fine!”

Stefan took a menacing step closer to her and hissed, “That is NOT the point little changeling witch. The POINT is that you are no better than the rest of us and I will not allow you to shame my family with your disregard OR your pity!!”

As if to punctuate this sentiment, Stefan grabbed Rachelle’s wrist as he stepped forward and thrust his face mere inches from hers. Staring into her eyes he rasped, “I will have my due and you will never again show that arrogance and condescension to this village.”

Rachelle was astonished by Stefan’s behavior and so stunned by this turn of events that she made no move to block his other arm as it came around her and knotted her soft white hair into a fist at the nape of her neck. Stefan’s eyes were dilated and had a mad glaze to them as he pushed her back until the edge of the rock bit into the back of her legs.

“What will you do now little witch,” Stefan hissed into her face, “with nothing here but your pathetic flock of sheep?”

Rachelle struggled against Stefan’s grip – she wasn’t without strength of her own after all the years of herding the sheep and tending to the herb garden that Evangeline kept as part of her trade – but a healthy, athletic girl was no competition for a young man raised on a farm. Before she knew what had happened, Stefan had her pinned on the rock and was laying heavily atop her. Truly terrified now, Rachelle opened her mouth to scream only to have Stefan tighten his hold in her hair and yank her head backwards scraping it brutally across the rock. Rachelle felt a rush of warmth along the back of her head and idly wondered if he had cut her scalp on the edges of the rock. Too stunned to scream all she could do was gasp at the pain.

Stefan’s mouth came down on top of hers, his teeth grinding against her lip. Weakly struggling against him, she found that between the weight of him on top of her and the pain in her head there was very little she could do to dislodge him. He brutally thrust his thick tongue into her mouth until she nearly choked. Silent tears streamed from the corners of her eyes as she realized that the end of her short life had come and there was nothing she could do about it. She was too weak and hurt from the blow to her skull to fight him at all. Weakly she stepped back from her body – self-preservation helping her to do now what she’d been unable to achieve less than a candlemark earlier.

It was almost as if she was watching this rape happen to another person. She only dimly sensed what was happening to her body – which was probably a blessing… As her struggles ceased, Stefan seemed to become even more brutal. He had ripped most of her clothing to shreds in his attempts to subdue her. The sight of her smooth, milk white flesh enraged him. He bit her left breast so hard that blood was flowing freely over her ribs, down her side, and onto the rock beneath her. It painted a faint trail down the rock to trickle upon the field grasses. He continued to scratch and punch at her motionless body muttering obscenities and mad nonsense as he brutalized her. His rage seemed to grow by leaps and bounds the more of her flesh he saw, touched, consumed…

Rachelle was able to maintain the separation of mind and body through all of this abuse until the moment he finally thrust his manhood deep inside her, ripping and tearing the delicate tissues within, blood – too much blood – spilled from between her legs onto the rock beneath her. Rachelle’s consciousness snapped back into her body and she was finally able to scream… The world around her went hot and white with rage, pain, fear… She felt and saw no more.