the panic that laps in penniâs mind is thrown off course. she is nothing if not shocked, as though she has not dealt with horror before. the only thing is that she hadnât expected the church would be alight. however, she is taken by the woman. a name she canât seem to recall burning at the back of her mind, because as a good samaritan, wheeler is certainly small enough that she should know everyoneâs names. though, she needed a reminder that she is a good samaritan, an officer too. flipping out doesnât put out a fire, she reminds herself, or resolves tension.
âor, well, maybe itâs not that big of a deal, right? we shouldnât worry too much. the fire isnât that bad. is it â itâs mm, uh . . mary, right? are you alright?â
.
She couldnât find the words to say as the world around her slowed. The church. The place Magdalena had many firsts. The place that her father had taken his last breath. The place that she had felt kept her together. It was on... fire? It had probably been about ten seconds that she stared at the other woman, speechless, but it felt like an eternity.Â
âMagdalena,âÂ
She took a step towards the woman, someone she had seen a few times when she found herself paying close attention. Tears were already stinging her eyes. âIâm okay, but we should go to the church. Y-Youâre right. It canât be that bad. It canât be,â She blinked out a few tears. âIt canât be that bad.âÂ
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Fallon had to order almost the entirety of her Ice House wardrobe online. There was no âdecentâ establishment in Wheeler that would ever dream of selling clear heeled platform pumps and the vanilla, Christian modesty undergarments that stocked their intimates section was almost laughable at times. However, Fallon couldnât deny that Delvinâs prices fit her budget perfectly and there were sometimes small prizes of hot red lace or black velvet tucked between the beigey nude nursing bras and the off-white granny panties.Â
She heaved a sigh as she scoured the clearance rack for anything remotely tantalizing. Cheap plastic hangers hurriedly scraped against the metal rack as she flipped through countless pairs of knickers that even her grandmother Sophie would have cringed at. Her excitement rose when she spotted a bralette pushed to the far corner of the rack. âGod forbid the citizens see a lacy bra, huh?â she mused to herself before pulling the item off the rack and holding it up to her chest for consideration in a mirror nearby. She pursed her lips in contemplation, hardly realizing there were eyes on her.Â
She lifted her contemplative gaze to meet the eyes of the other. Without thinking Fallon threw the bra to the ground in embarrassment. âHoly shit!â She tried to blink herself back into composure. Half startled and half mortified. âSorry, I mean holyâŠÂ shoot, sorry.â She kicked the bra under the rack, making a mental note to pick it up later. âHey, long time no see! Just getting some shoppinâ done, huh?âÂ
Browsing the same stores over and over again was about as mundane as watching paint dry, but it was a good distraction from the pounding inside her skull. She figured it was what she deserved given the amount of alcohol she consumed the night prior. It just felt weird to wake up in the morning and not be behind the church organ. It felt weird to exist in the world without the one thread she had been holding onto. Thatâs why Magdalena was here at Delvinâs Discount. It didnât help that she had recently accumulated a collection of cardigans to pull over her hands to hide the carnage of her nervously biting her nails every time she stood in line with another bottle.Â
The word she heard next meant nothing to her and as soon as she heard it, she looked towards the source. She was a familiar face to Magdalena, but she certainly hoped her face wasnât familiar. Ice House was another distraction. Another place that she went to in an over-sized hoodie with her head held low so that hopefully no one would recognize her. So that no one knew she liked women. âHoly shoot?â She asked. She almost didnât notice the other woman kicking an article of clothing under the rack.Â
âBrowsing,â She finally answered before gazing back over the rack. âI do hope youâre going to pick that up though. Less work for the employees here. Plus,â She lingered on the word as she pulled out a baby blue crop top, tossing it to her. The fabric was a soft velvet and by the looks of where it was tucked away, they wanted to keep it hidden. âI think blue is more your color anyway.âÂ
FULL NAME: Magdalena Ameena Daniels
BIRTH-DATE: May 12th, 1993
AGE: Twenty-sevenÂ
STAR-SIGN: Taurus
GENDER IDENTITY: Cisfemale (she/her)
ORIENTATION: Closeted homosexual/homoromantic
OCCUPATION: Church Pianist/Organist
TRIGGERS: Death, suicide, alcoholism, hints of homophobia, NSFW
The BeginningâŠ
Lights flickered in the bathroom of the Danielsâ household. A storm was swirling outside the concrete walls of the home as the screams of a woman vibrated over the thunder that in itself, demanded to be heard. With a final cry from the new mother came the first of many from the first and only child brought into the world by Adam and Ameena Daniels.
âItâs a girl!â The father chirped, pulling their blessing into his arms.
But something wasnât right. Whereas Adamâs eyes welled up with tears of joy, Ameenaâs eyes glazed over and stared up at the trembling popcorn ceiling. The tub that was filled with warm water was now crimson, tainted with the blood of a beautiful daughter, wife and mother. Turns out that the newborn child wasnât the only soul to wail into the night as the lights continued to flicker before going out completely.
Seven Years LaterâŠ
âI love you mommy.â
A little girlâs voice echoed through the empty cemetery, her small hands resting a bouquet of daisies against a tombstone marked with the name Ameena Daniels. She tugged at the hand of her father to kneel down with her in prayer. He obliged, pulling a cross from beneath his shirt and holding it between cupped hands.
âFather of all, we pray to you for Ameena, and for all those whom we love but see no longer. Grant to them eternal rest. Let light perpetual shine upon them. May his soul and the souls of all the departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.â He prayed, pressing chapped lips to the rosary before the girl next to him began her own prayer.
âIn your hands, Oâ Lord, we humbly entrust our Ameena. In this life you embraced her with your tender love; deliver her now from every evil and bid her eternal rest. Welcome my mommy into paradise where there will be no pain, but peace and joy with your Son and the Holy Spirit forever and ever. Amen.â
âAmen.â He repeated before putting the rosary back beneath his shirt. âCome now, Magdalena. We mustnât be late to supper with grandma. Weâll be back next Sunday, okay?â
âOkay, daddy.â She quipped, getting up and taking his hand again to make their way back to the car.
Nine Years LaterâŠ
âShh⊠Youâre going to get us caught!â Magdalena whispered in between kisses shared in a closet during her churchâs youth group. Her hands wandered over their bare shoulders as kisses were peppered down her neck and to her chest. Her pale blue button up that was a part of her uniform was undone, halfway hanging off her slender frame.
âNo one comes back here, Lena. Itâs okay.â The voice replied, but they didnât whisper. They had no secrets to hide. Their lips returned to Lenaâs, young and greedy hands finding their way to places they shouldnât be.
She felt like she was on cloud nine. She knew the sins she was committing as she slid completely out of her shirt, pulling off her rosary and letting it drop to the ground. She lifted herself up onto a table, it creaking loudly in protest as she hiked up her skirt and wrapped her legs around her loverâs waist. Hands then found themselves in unholy places for two teenagers. In the same breath that she moaned a familiar name, the closet door creaked open and the light cast a yellow glow over the two of them.
âFather!â Lena gasped, quickly scrambling out from underneath the other teenager to grab her shirt in order to protect what modesty she had left.
Adam stood in the doorway, taking in a deep breath before leaning down to pick up the rosary that had been his wifeâs. He gave it to her recently on her sixteenth birthday. Magdalena stared at her father in fear, holding a hand out for the jewelry to be returned. In no momentâs hesitation, he shoved it into his own pocket before grabbing his daughter by the arm and pulling her from the closet.
âGet yourself cleaned up and meet me in the car.â His eyes burned holes into her soul. Holes deeper and hotter than any scorched before. As she hurried out of the room, Adam turned back to the other teen now quickly putting what clothes that had come off back onto their body. âAs for you, Elizabethââ He paused to take a deep breath. âI will be having a word with your parents. You will not taint my daughter and I will make sure of that.â He didnât give the girl a chance to respond before turning away and slamming the closet door behind him.
Three Years LaterâŠ
It had been a year and a half since Magdalena decided to leave her hometown and go off to college. It had been something her father disapproved of and was the source of a lot of arguments. As heavy bass thumped through the walls of the college fraternity, she could remember the day the left like it was yesterday.
âIf you leave, you are not welcome back here, Magdalena.â Her father stood between her and the front door.
She dropped her suitcase, going up to her father with a sneer painted across her face. âWhy would I ever come back here? So I can join the stupid church and be daddyâs little girlâ just too perfect to be full of so much sin? To speak words of love just to underline them with hate?â She shook her head as she went to grab her keys. âI hope I never see this town again. I hope I never see the people in it.â
Adam furrowed his brows in frustration. âThis is not you!â He boomed, reaching out for her hand as he started to whisper the same prayer she heard every single time she made a mistake. Dear God, let my daughter repent her sins, but with about 100 more meaningless words.
Lena jerked away, picking her things back up. âShut up! Do you think He hears you? Do you think He cares? A God that does what He does in this world is no God in my eyes. I donât need your prayers. Now, let me go.â She pushed past him, yanking the door open and walking out.
âYouâll end up going to Hell, Lena! I am only trying to protect you!â
She laughed, making it to her car and tossing her things into the back. âFuck you!â Were the last words she spoke to her father before leaving and they havenât spoken since.
Now she sits between some guy and his girlfriend, sharing sloppy kisses and sips of vodka from plastic cups. Her breath could start a fire if you placed a match before it. She giggled as she pulled away pick up her now ringing phone. When she saw it was her father, she declined the call only to pull herself in closer to the girl next to her. It was then that her phone rang again, his face popping up to taunt her, and again, she ignored it. That was until about three more calls later. She got up, excusing herself to the backyard to answer her phone.
âStop calling me! I told you I donât want to taââ
She was cut of by the muffled voice of her uncle. They had found her father in the church bathroom, a self inflicted gunshot wound to the head. He said that he left a note and told her when his funeral would be and before she hung up he said, âJust pray that your father makes it to his rightful destination. He was a good man. Pray he doesnât end up going to Hell.â
Six Days LaterâŠ
The ivory casket lowered into freshly dug dirt. She could smell the Earth as it wafted through her senses. Her teeth clenched as they released the straps used to put her father in the ground. It was as if an iron rod were sliding down her throat, the overwhelming sensation of guilt burning all the way down into the pit of her stomach. She remembered when she was caught in the church closet and how the holes he stared into her were the worst at the time. Funny how she didnât even know that on a scale that was only a five and this, well, you know how people save their tens. Tears threatened to leave her eyes, but she quickly slid on her over-sized sunglasses to hide the emotion.
âNow, if anyone would like to say a few words.â The pastor ended his prayer with the invitations, eyes looking in her direction. âLena?â
It took her a moment, but she shook her head. âIâm sorry. I canât do this.â Her voice cracked as she pushed her way through the small crowd of people. All she wanted to do was get away from the guilt that swam through her mind. It had all come to head and for the frist time, Magdalena truly felt that her fatherâs suicide had been her own doing. She was callous and cruel. She was disobedient and full of sin. He couldn't live with the thought of his ruined daughter and there was no one to blame but herself.Â
Dearest Magdalena,
   I am so sorry to have failed you as a father. I failed in saving your mother, I failed at saving myself and most disappointingly, I failed saving you. Forgive me for this final, damning sin and just know that I will forever and always love you. Donât pray for me. It is too late. However, it is not too late for you. Please save yourself like I never could. Goodbye my beautiful.
The words were memorized. Of course they were memorized. They could never not be permanently etched into brain and as they repeated themselves over and over again, she found herself at the local Gas âN Dash, slipping a couple mini bottles of Stoli into her dress pockets and her bra. She was careful not to let anyone see before grabbing a bottle of water and making her way to the checkout. No one would question a grieving daughter whose father just ended his life in the town church.
She stepped outside after making her purchase and opened her water only to dump it out on the ground. A puddle formed around her feet until the plastic was empty. Then, she quickly got into her car, removing all the stolen bottles of liquor of refilling the bottle. Her car floor was littered with empty bottles and smelled of vodka and bile. It has been like this for so long that she didnât even notice how bad it had gotten. All she could think about was the burn of the alcohol in her throat as she put the bottle to her lips and took a long drink.Â
The RestâŠÂ
It had been a week since Magdalena had been kicked out of school. Her grades had plummeted, she had too many absences and when she did show up to class it was either hungover or still intoxicated. The last straw was bringing a bottle of vodka to class, without switching it over to a water bottle first. She had all her things packed and the only place left to go was to her uncleâs house back in Wheeler, Indiana. He already had everything ready for her to go and somehow managed to convince her to go to AA meeting.
To her disbelief, the meetings worked and she was able to sober up with the support of her uncle. Then, she started going back to church on Wednesday⊠then, on Sundays and by the time she was twenty-three she was converted back to her religion and born anew.
She spent the next three years trying to become independent. She landed a job with the church, saving up enough money to move out on her own and finally be the adult she was meant to be. Her life was finally on the right track and she was doing a great job at keeping her demons hidden.
That was until Cassie went missing.
She had already felt herself slipping when all the chaos started, but upon hearing the news, something inside her snapped. She found herself going back to that place she was in after her fatherâs funeral, driving towards the place where it all started. She only went to get some coffee, too afraid to sleep. Then a mini bottle of Stoli caught her attention and the next thing she knew she was dropping the bottle and multiple other small items on the counter, hoping and praying the cashier didnât notice and, from what she knows, they didnât realize what she was doing.
the scent of burning lumber is a long-forgotten memory of cook-outs in the backyard, or of the welcoming, bonding bonfire the wheeler police department held amid her first month on the job. now, she is not so certain the smoke on the breeze will avoid her. not with the way her eyes water, and especially not when her phone had pinged of notice that it was the church. she is too concerned to think of avoiding the crowd.
âoh, no no no. i donât understand â church was only just yesterday! how could it be on fire?â
The words rung in her ears a thousand times over before Magdalena realized what was happening. She couldnât believe it, nor did she want to, but there was no way of avoiding the way her nose felt as she took in a deep breath. The words spoken were only a confirmation of a nightmare that was only beginning. She turned to look at the woman who spoke, only managing a weak âExcuse me,â as the lump already began to form in her throat.Â
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I know you want me to tell you
girlhood is some soft
fragile thing.
Full of flowers
Perfume
and pretty things.
But
There is hardness here too.
They kick at the chains that constrain them until they snap, scattering links further than wedding confetti.
Thereâs the taste of blood, from all the words bitten back.
There is the burn in her limbs, from running, running, running towards something better than her town. There is the burn in her throat from screaming when she gets there.
She clenches her hands into fists, and doesnât open them into a welcoming palm.
When they say they hate you, they mean it.Â
They write in diaries with such fury, the pen rips right through the page.Â
The thud thud thudding you hear, could be their heartbeats, could be their hands.Â
There is hardness even here
within a girl.
