Who: Ruth and Mal When: Tuesday, Sept 26, morning Where: in front of the church Warnings: violence Status: Complete
Mal didn’t feel as paranoid as he had on Sunday, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. They’d gotten no relief from the fog, for one. The electricity was working again, so that helped make things feel a bit more normal, but the sense of foreboding was still lingering. He’d spent quite a few hours in prayer over the last few days, but Mal still hadn’t sensed any extra guidance from God. He was coming to believe that whatever was going on had little to nothing to do with him. While that didn’t sit very comfortably, some things just had to be ridden out.
Mal had opened the church in the mid-morning, going down to unlock the double doors and open one of them. The temperature wasn’t too bad even with the fog, and he wanted his availability to be obvious to anyone who might need to come by. Whatever was going on, these were trying times, and the church could be a sanctuary for those in need.
He puttered around amongst the pews for a little while, finishing off his third cup of coffee and making sure everything was neat and orderly, but Mal kept wandering back toward the open door. There was something magnetic about gazing out into all that opaque whiteness, like the Lord had narrowed the world down. Like their little church was just an island floating in the mist. Mal wasn’t often prone to flights of fancy -- at least he didn’t think so -- but it was difficult to deny the dreamlike feeling he got as he stood in the doorway just inside the church, gazing out into the fog as he rolled a short pencil between his fingers and tried to figure it all out.
The fog was proving troublesome for the head of the Collins family. Isaac Collins sat behind the wheel of his slow moving truck, squinting as he stared out into whiteness. In the passenger's seat sat Ruth still as a statue and quiet as a mouse. She knew her father was frustrated by the weather and did not wish to give him any reason to take it out on her. Not that there was much risk of incurring his wrath at the moment. The conditions were proving too treacherous for the man to think about anything other than getting to his destinations. His first and Ruth's final destination was the Word of the Redeemer Fellowship church. She had made arrangements to help Mal several days before the fog engulfed the town and, much like their attendance at church the past Sunday, she and the Collins family would take the risk for their faith.
Finally reaching the church, Isaac parked the car on the side of the road. This was the normal drop-off point when Ruth was given a ride. Going into the parking lot was extra time he didn't want to waste; he had a job to get to and the teen was more than capable of walking from the road. She stepped out of the truck, voicing a soft thank you to her father as she did so. He simply nodded in response and, once she was clear of the vehicle, resumed the slow crawl through the mist. She watched the car briefly before directing her attention toward where the church stood. The building was barely visible in the thick fog, but she was confident she would find her way without trouble.
She set out on her short journey, gripping the book that she had borrowed the previous week tightly against her chest. With each step she grew a little more unnerved, an odd feeling for her to experience when on her way to help Mal. The church was a comfort; she loved being within it and especially loved being with Mal. Why, then, was she growing so uneasy? A sound to her left caused her to pause. She turned her gaze toward the sound and noticed a man standing in the mist looking extremely agitated. This immediately put her on edge. She stepped forward, the sound grabbing the attention of the man, and they met eyes.
He lunged at her, causing Ruth to fall back onto the grass with a loud grunt, book flying from her hands. She barely had time to catch her breath before the man descended upon her, straddling her torso and wrapping his hands around her neck. Her eyes widened and her hands clawed at his arms in a desperate attempt to free herself from his firm grip on her throat. Soft gagging sounds emitted from her throat and she kicked at the ground as she looked up at her attacker's face. It was contorted in uncontrollable rage. She would have questioned why if the fear and panic wasn't consuming every aspect of her mind.
Mal was expecting Ruth’s arrival, though it was a distant sort of expectation. He’d remembered that they’d set up a time for her to come over, but it hadn’t been at the forefront of his mind. The fog had been consuming most of his thoughts, swinging between that dreamlike quality and the frustration of not knowing what God was trying to tell him, if anything. Mal kept feeling like if he just listened hard enough, he could hear it.
So both sets of his ears were open that morning, so to speak. As he gazed out into the fog, quieting his mind and paying close attention, he felt as though he was close to something important. Mal’s reverie was abruptly interrupted however, by a sudden surge in an unexpected emotion. Rage. It wasn’t coming from him, or Sam upstairs, it was coming from the parking lot. It pressed against his mind like a red-hot knife, loud enough that he almost missed the cold stabbing fear that also hit him a second or two later. That mental voice, he recognized. It was Ruth.
Mal moved swiftly, not even thinking as he stepped out into the fog. He couldn’t physically hear them through the thick air, but he followed the deafening emotions. It wasn’t exactly answering rage that welled up in Mal, it was a cold and instinctive possessiveness. Someone was attacking Ruth, his Ruth, and that was unacceptable. He reached out ahead of himself with his mind, psychically grabbing hold of the male one to try and gain control ... it was more difficult than it should have been, and Mal started to run.
When he reached them, he saw the man had his hands around Ruth’s neck, and Mal didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the man by the back of his shirt and brought a knee up hard into his face. He heard the crack of bone, but Mal couldn’t pry him loose until he attacked telepathically, turning every thought in the man’s head to deafening screeches and trying to block out every sense he had to put him in the dark.
With each excruciating second that passed, Ruth grew more and more panicked. Her lungs were burning for oxygen and her vision was starting to blur. She closed her eyes, tears twinkling down the sides of her face. She was dying. He was going to kill her. The realization caused her to thrash against her attacker, but it only resulted in his grip tightening. God, please, don't let me die, she begged. Please.
Suddenly, Mal appeared and immediately slammed his knee into the man's face. That only seemed to make him tighten his grip even more, that was until his senses were assaulted. He released Ruth's throat and brought his hands to his head with a pained scream. His eyes immediately landed on Mal, teeth bared in fury. He didn't care about the coughing girl under him anymore; all of his attention was now on his assailant. He lifted himself from the ground and swung at Mal in one swift motion.
Ruth took the opportunity to crawl a short distance from the two men, taking deep breaths and coughing at she did so. She glanced over at her attacker. She should have been relieved, should have been grateful to the Lord for sending Mal, her savior, to her rescue, but she felt none of this. All she felt was anger boiling within her. Anger and an almost uncontrollable desire to hurt someone, hurt him, the man that tried to kill her. She started to crawl back toward the two men despite her heavy breathing and lightheadedness, but paused when she felt something hard under her hand. It was a rock, a large one. She wiggled it out from the ground and grasped it with a single hand, then slowly lifted herself from the ground and continued toward the fighting men.
While Mal hadn’t had the combat training that some of his former associates had been through, he did know a few things, and he seemed to have the advantage at the moment. The man was snarling and swinging wild, obviously lost to whatever emotion had taken him over. His mind was a dark tangled mess to Mal, everything splashed in red and fury. He couldn’t make sense of it. But he didn’t really want to either. There were more important things at the moment. Like ducking around those punches, and getting a few licks in himself where he could.
His own anger was rapidly expanding. This asshole piece of shit had been trying to hurt his girl. Ordinarily, Mal’s anger burned cold, plans for revenge replacing the animal need to hurt something. But today seemed different, and Mal’s face twisted into a snarl as he swung and hit the man in the nose he’d just broken. The guy howled in pain, but that only seemed to make him more aggressive, and Mal’s breath whooshed out harshly as the man tackled him to the ground.
Seeing the stranger tackle Mal to the ground caused her anger to expand into full on fury. How dare this sad excuse for a man touch her beloved Mal. He didn't even deserve to be in his presence let alone lay his hands on him. A low growl emitted from her throat, a foreign sound to her, barely audible over the sounds of the two men struggling. He would pay for this affront. For attacking her, attacking Mal. He would bleed; she would make him bleed.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind Ruth questioned this overwhelming desire for bloodshed. She didn't want to hurt anyone, never had. Why, then, was she so determined to see this man lying dead on the ground? It frightened her, but it didn't stop her from raising that rock high and swinging it down into the stranger's head. He didn't stop. Another swing. This time there was a sickening crack. This seemed to bring him pause and just before Ruth could hit him for a third time he slumped over, unconscious and bleeding. She stood there a moment, dropping the rock to the ground as she breathed heavily. He was still on top of Mal. Not acceptable. Punishable. She kicked him off of Mal, his lax body falling to the ground and she quickly descended upon him, straddling the defenseless man like he had done to her and wrapping her small hands around his neck.
Mal heard the crack, and the sudden dead weight of the stranger on top of him gave him a weirdly strong sense of victory. An enemy had been defeated, it was that simple. He’d moved to shove the man off, but he was already rolling limply to one side, helped along by Ruth’s foot. Mal caught a glimpse of her, her face twisted in animal fury, and then she was moving again. Mal sat up and looked over to see the small girl get into position to choke the guy to death. Something about that rang wrong in Mal’s head, but the internal objections felt a bit fuzzy. He sat there for a moment and distantly thought about killing the man himself. Mal couldn’t hear his thoughts anymore, he was out for the count.
Ruth’s though ... there was something very dark in there, something demonic. It was that more than anything that got Mal moving. Whatever was happening, the Devil was involved, and he did his best to tap into his immense mental strength to fight it off. Mal pushed himself up and hooked one arm around Ruth’s body. Struggling to project that shaky mental barrier to her as well, he pried her hands off of the man’s neck and lifted her up, turning to carry her back toward the church and inside. They needed God, they needed the sanctuary of hallowed ground.
She didn’t notice when Mal started to move; her concentration was focused solely on the man below her. He needed to die. Why was he still breathing? Why couldn’t he just die already? Ruth put more of her weight into the stranglehold. This isn’t right, came a meek voice in her head that was easily drowned out by her more violent hungry thoughts. An arm wrapped around her and she briefly looked up to see Mal struggling to fight… something. The voice declaring what was occurring returned though with a little more clarity this time around. It was Mal’s presence; she knew it was.
There was a struggle when he lifted him off the stranger and carried her back to the church. Ruth kicked and clawed, her aggression moving to Mal as the other man faded away into the mist. It wasn’t as fierce as her previous attack at been, the fog clouding her mind beginning to clear slowly. It wasn’t until they entered the church that it cleared completely and she was absolutely horrified. “Oh...oh Lord.” Her quiet voice cracked in shame, tears flowing freely from her eyes. “What did I… oh Lord forgive me my sins.”
Mal had to fight to hold onto Ruth as they went, but luckily it was a fight that he won. He’d never seen her like this, and he became more convinced as they crossed the lawn that there was something demonic in the air. He was having his own urges, unnatural and dark. It was far too easy to imagine smashing Ruth’s head into the brick of the church building to shut her up and keep her still. But the door was so close, and any bruises she gave him would heal.
The instant they were inside and Mal had dragged in a couple of deep breaths of un-fogged air, those feelings faded, and he was left with his own sense of horror that they’d been there at all. How he was feeling wasn’t important though, because Ruth was breaking down. Mal carried her to some plastic chairs that sat in the church lobby and sat them both down, Ruth in his lap, adjusting his grip on her so he was cradling her instead of holding her hostage. “It’s all right,” he murmured, stroking Ruth’s back. “Something evil is going on out there, you’re safe now.”
The gentle stroking of her back was doing very little to soothe her. Ruth was horrified, ashamed of her actions and thoughts. Mal was right; there was something evil out there. Demonic. “I hurt someone,” she whimpered through her continued tears. The memory of the loud crack that came from the man’s head when she hit him with the rock made her shiver. “I attacked you.” She was especially ashamed of that. No matter how powerful the evil was, she never should have given into the violent urge to hurt Mal. She failed both him and God. “I am so sorry.” She wanted to reach up and touch his face, check to see if she had managed to leave any marks from her frenzied clawing about or any other injuries from the stranger, but she refrained. “I’m so so sorry.”
Mal had sustained a few scratches that were starting to really sting now, a good one on the side of his neck and a few smaller ones to the cheek, but it was nothing he was concerned about. Now, the man outside ... he probably needed medical attention, if Ruth hadn’t outright killed him. For her sake, Mal hoped that wasn’t the case. He tried to think quickly, to come up with some sort of plan that made sense and would cover their asses, but all Mal could think was Deny Deny Deny. If they just left the man out there, they could say that they had no idea what happened to him. If it had just been Mal involved, that might have worked out, but Ruth had a good honest heart, and that could cause a problem.
He leaned back enough to look Ruth in the eyes, cupping her face and thumbing away some of the tears running down her cheeks. “Calm yourself,” he said to her, gentle but firm. “That wasn’t your fault. I felt it too, Satan’s influence outside. We’ll call for help for that man, but his fate is in God’s hands now, okay? And then we’ll pray, and He will guide us. Understand?” Mal kissed her forehead before returning his gaze to her face.
Ruth gazed back into his eyes, trying with all her might to do as Mal asked, but it was hard. She was terrified. She had witnessed and experienced many strange things in her sixteen years of life, but this... this was the first time the evil had taken such a strong hold of her. It had even affected Mal. There really was something evil in this town and it was growing stronger.
“Yes,” she whispered, closing her eyes when his lips pressed against her forehead. That bit of intimate contact helped to calm her down a little, but not nearly enough to stop her body from trembling or dry her tears completely. Her eyes fluttered open to see Mal gazing up at her again. She loved his eyes on her, but she loved his lips more. With some hesitation, Ruth brushed her fingers along his cheek, making sure to avoid the scratches that she had inflicted. “We should... clean these after we call for help...”
Mal was tempted to clear her mind for her, to take all that turmoil and regret away from her and replace it with nothing but soothing thoughts and peace. But he couldn’t do that all the time, and perhaps this could be turned into a teaching moment. At least she was calming down a little. He gave a perfunctory nod and lifted Ruth out of his lap to set her feet down on the floor, ready to move and get things done now that she wasn’t wailing. “Come, there’s a phone and a first aid kit in my office, two birds with one stone.” He stood and took Ruth’s hand to lead her that way. He should probably be cleaned and patched up before Sam was made aware of what happened, too, just in case she took it badly. She was upstairs in the apartment, and having both girls unexpectedly in the same building made him edgy.
Once they were in Mal’s office, the phone call didn’t take very long -- the 911 operator sounded very busy, which was a worrisome sign -- and then that duty was done. Mal felt nothing for the man lying outside, whether he was dead or just unconscious. The paramedics would work it out. He’d tried to kill Ruth first, so Mal didn’t give a damn what happened to him. He got the first aid kit and opened it up on his desk, sitting down so Ruth could reach his face and get him cleaned up.
There was a hint of disappointment when Mal lifted her from his lap that was immediately replaced with shame. The stranger outside needed assistance and Mal needed care, yet here she was disappointed that she couldn’t stay in his arms just a little while longer. How selfish of her.
Ruth was quiet while Mal was on the phone, lost in her thoughts. So much had happened in such a short amount of time… so many horrible things. And it all happened so suddenly. She had to wonder if the conversation with Sam may have brought this about. Maybe her parents were right; maybe giving the evil attention really did make it stronger. The sound of the first aid kit being set onto the desk stirred her from her thoughts. Right. No more thinking about such things. Mal needed attention. She opened the moist towelette packet, then proceeded to gently clean the scratches on his cheek and neck. They didn’t look to be deep, thankfully, and didn’t look like he’d need a bandage either. Once that was done, she placed some neosporin on her finger and spread it over each scratch.
“That should help,” she told him quietly as wiped the remaining ointment onto the unsoiled side of the wet wipe. She tossed the wipe into the trash can before placing the neosporin back into the first aid kit and closing it shut. “I’m sorry.”
Ruth’s touch was gentle and welcome, even if getting the scratches cleaned stung. That was a tiny pain that meant nothing to Mal. He studied her face as she tended to him and opened his mind to her thoughts so he could get a bead on what she was feeling and thinking. Shame, she always had so much shame. And this was just another layer on top of it all. Focusing on him seemed to help a little at least, and that was something. Mal would take all of her focus and then some.
He caught her hand once she’d put the medical supplies away, and brought it to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles. Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, sometimes some deference was needed. Mal looked up into Ruth’s eyes again. “Thank you,” he said quietly. He slipped off of the chair and onto his knees, giving her a small tug to join him. “Come pray with me. It’ll help.”
A tiny smile came to her face when Mal touched her hand against her lips despite herself. “You’re welcome,” she replied in the same hushed volume. It wasn’t a needed response, especially when she didn’t desire to be thanked in the first place, but it was an automatic one. Ruth sat down onto her knees at Mal’s insistence, bowing her head in reverence. She was quiet, silently praying to the Lord and hoping it really would help like he said.