Wicked Perception's

Years had passed.....weeks, months and now years. Time had slowly crept upon Raphael like summer rays on a sunny morning. Only Raphael’s rays spelt darkness. There was no light in his life, no hope. Darkness had enveloped him, looming with the shadow of death. He cringed deeper into the isolated room that was his only window to the outside world. And then death stole upon him like the night. Finally it was all over........

Simplicity sprang to mind when one thought of Abigail. Everything about her was simple. Everything, but her personality. Her name left one with the impression of something sweet, innocent and gentle....Abby. Yet she was anything but simple which was why Raphael was so blindly smitten by her. There was mischief in her smile and jaunty laughter in her eyes when she was content. She teased and taunted with the aura of an Angel. But she had a dark side that most men fatally ignored. Her charm danced around them like fiery stars on a moonlit night, twirling around in a frenzy of magic. Abigail was a name no one would forget.

“Abby!.........Abigail!”

“WHAT!”

“I need to talk to you love.”

“Not Eric again mother!....I'm sixteen, I know what I'm doing!”

“No Abby, you don't know what you're doing! Courting a man twelve years your senior is out of the question!”

“You have no right to talk to me that way! I'm not a child anymore! If you speak with me in that manner, I'm leaving!”

Her mother sighed, her face weary and withered by age.

“You know how much I love you darling. Why must you be so difficult? I only want what’s best for you, but pursuing older men at such a young age....”

She would remember those words because it was the last time she'd hear them again. Her sweet gentle mother who had wanted nothing but her happiness was gone. Her heart soared with intangible pain. A quiet calm gradually descended around her being, forming a barrier of stone. Her closest friend and constant companion had been vanquished by a fatal disease, so intense, that it had left her breathless and pale in her last moments.

“My mother...” she whispered fiercely, almost possessively. “My mother”

Her heart hardened. There were no tears in her eyes as she watched the last of the mud cover the only family she'd had left behind.

The orphanage was a different story altogether. Abby was slowly transforming into a woman and the order failed to realize it.

“Your grades are preposterous! If this continues, I'll have you transferred! Do you understand! You're enough of a burden as it is!”

She stood erect, stone faced...not a glimmer of apprehension was evident in her expression. She stared stubbornly ahead, her eyes darting first left and then right as they traced the path of an elusive fly.

“Abigail Benedict Feldman! Are you listening to me?!”

She began tapping her foot impatiently.

“You wretched child!” Infuriated and overcome by rage, Sister Penelope grabbed the cane that stood glimmering wickedly against the wrought iron cupboard.

“You shall be caned for this lurid display of disrespect! Kneel!.......At once you wretched little beast!”

Obediently, Abby knelt without a word. The first blow struck her like a bolt of lightening, leaving a dark red line smarting in its wake. She clenched her teeth and gradually bit her lip to diminish the pain. The second lash bit into her skin like fire. She wanted to scream and claw. Instead she clenched her fists and bore the excruciating torture that she was being subjected to. After Sister Penelope was satisfied that Abby had been punished enough, she ordered the girl back to her quarters. Worn thin, she stumbled through the door on knees that were numb and a body that was sore. She lay down on her bed hurting too tremendously to do much else. During those days, Andrew Becker was her only friend. Orphaned like her self, Andrew shared a protective bond of friendship with Abby. Like every other boy, Andrew was in love with her. But rather than make a play for her affection, he decided that trust and friendship were practical alternatives because he knew that she would settle for nothing else.

"Abby?.....Love?", he asked uncertainly. "Are you alright?"

She lifted a hand weakly and then let it drop, groaning softly. He watched her eyes flutter gently and then she dissolved into a pitiful state of slumber. Lying beside her was a moth eaten blanket. He tucked it gently around her battered body.

"Poor little Abby..." he muttered sadly, shaking his head in a defeated gesture of anger."You shouldn't be here......you don't deserve this, any of it." was all he said, softly closing the oak paneled doors behind him.

The orphanage was a desolate and despondent mansion of a building. Its mammoth appearance concealed very little. The gray walls and withered paint left much to be desired. The lawn was in desperate need of attention and the large iron fence that enclosed the facility only enhanced its prison like appearance. Weeds sprung forth from the grass and thorns still flourished amongst roses that were past their blossom. Yet, the mansions outward appearance failed to concern its abominable staff. A strict routine was followed and the monotonous weekly menu diminished its culinary skills. That most of the consumables were inedible, failed to draw the attention of order. Sanitation was often disregarded, yet personal hygiene was compulsory. Lack of discipline triggered a manipulative and malicious nerve in its disciplinarians and was highly prioritized.

"Sr. Madeleine, I'm not sure what to do.......that wretched girl has me at nerves ends! I've tried very hard, but she simply won't listen. It's as though she deliberately does what she’s not supposed to do!"

"There, there......it’s alright now Sister Penelope. She has been transferred to my care. Perhaps the children have deemed you both mild and submissive? I don't take nonsense from my ward. Under my regiment, they accept criticism exceptionally well. " Sister Madeleine smiled enigmatically at her last statement.

"Inculcate apprehensiveness! Haven't I relayed this to you before? .......Remember the crusades? Ahhh.....How charming to think that once the catholic church tyranically exerted its authority over the locals........And look where it got them! Those sinners certainly paid the price for their sins! Despite their despicable efforts to stray from the path to heaven! You must use force! Show them no alternative! Under my supervision, the children have thrived.......No, none have deviated off path under my jurisdiction." She added boastfully.

"Very well." Sister Penelope forced a fake sigh. “I suppose you'll give her what she deserves?"

"There is no question of that." replied the other heartily.

"It would please me greatly to be informed of any personality changes?"

"You shall be made aware of the slightest improvements."

"Thank you." Sister Penelope smiled, attempting to display emotion.

"I am most obliged."

Abby awoke with a smarting pain tugging at the corners of her lower back. It was past midnight and the other girls were asleep. She tiptoed down into the kitchen, cursing softly as spasms of pain continued gushing through her body. To her dismay, the door had been barred and locked. She crept back to her quarters, careful not to awake the other girls and quietly pulled a chair up by the window. She watched the stars, silently praying that one day things would be better again. Abby was not afraid of the dark like the other girls or the shadows that danced around her room at night. She found them fascinating and delighted in the comfort of their presence. She did not have many friends and she couldn't imagine a world with one. Her world was her novels where the prince and his bride lived happily ever after, the wicked witch was destroyed or the fairy princess waved a magic wand and transformed ghastly creatures into delightful ones. Abby loved nature. She loved the trees and flowers on a sunny day, the sky blinking with stars at night and the sea, splashing waves against the shore. She did not care for worldly attributes or material things. She was however in search of a single treasure....her father.

She did not know much about her father, except that he was a veteran, formerly employed by the ROTC. She had suspected that he died long ago. Her only memory of him was a picture that her mother had shown her when she was seven. She had never seen nor heard from him. Her mother had recited stories and tales of adventures on faraway lands that she had been to when she was a baby. None of them were true of course. There was a sadness that never left her mothers eyes when Abby had looked at her. Her mother barely ever smiled and she didn't have the heart to ask what had happened. Instead, she vowed that one day, she would locate her father and her world would be set back on its course. With each day, she had grown restless and to deviate from her thoughts, she had discovered another activity........dating older men. Eventually, her mother grew fatally ill and Abigail gradually withdrew from her rebellion, listless and remorseful. Helplessly, she had watched her mother’s condition grow worse. Despite her tremendous attempts to convince herself she was not to blame, she saw no plausible circumstance to indicate otherwise and she loathed herself more than ever.

These thoughts perturbed her as she sat by the window. Enervated from hunger, she gradually drifted off into a disturbed sleep.

It wasn't the chimes of the church bells or the music blaring despicably through the sound system that woke her. No, it was the irking voice of a furious nun.

"You lousy girl!" Sister Penelope stood in front of Abby, her hands on her hips. "Why weren't you at breakfast? Sleeping in all day! Is that what you think you're destined to do for the rest of your life? You shall do without lunch or dinner today. And if you do not obey the rules, you shall be caned again, is that understood!"

Abigail nodded her head solemnly, her expression dulled, but inwardly she was seething. She cast a venomous glance in Sister Penelope's direction, rose and walked away quietly.

Geraldine smiled smugly. She loathed Abigail. Her angelic smiles and obedient gestures made her the favorite of all the sisters at the orphanage, but her satisfaction came from watching her adversary undergo torture. Geraldine, unlike Abby, was striking. About the same age, they were as similar as a frog is to a fly. With her blonde curls and huge blue eyes, Geraldine failed to understand why it was Abby that young men sought and not her self. Classified as a cynic and an eccentric by her fellow contemporaries, Geraldine fitted that description perfectly. Her vanity and arrogance allowed her to appear self centered and her petulance only magnified the effect. Academically superior to the rest of her cohort, Geraldine never passed an opportunity to amplify her talents in front of the order. Her demonstrations were purely superficial and solely for the benefit of the nuns.

Abigail, however, was a scholar propelled merely by motivating circumstances. Her ambience subconsciously directed her in the direction of recreation and her thoughts deviated a great deal from academics. Yet on occasion, her test scores would plummet and elevate extraordinarily, startling and astonishing the sisters to the brink of accusation in terms of academic violation and disqualification. Abby ignored these futile remarks and conjured a map within her subconscience. She knew that adoption was a farfetched consolation for individuals her age. Her future had to be self destined and her goals, realistic. Perhaps she could play the role of a governess or submit to the chores of a housekeeper. Frustrated and stripped of any scraps of dignity she had initially possessed, she contemplated the routinely rituals performed prior to the hour for supper. Did they honestly consider themselves handmaids of the Lord whilst torturing children to the brink of fatigue? She had perused volumes in the event of discerning how repetitive utterings that lacked any assigned function could invoke gratification whilst simultaneously contradicting the very doctrine they confidently boasted of. Her desire to outmaneuver the system and circumvent its rituals augmented her determination, with an intense resolve to achieve her purpose. She would refuse to partake in their ceremonious occult tonight, despite the consequences and the sacrifice of another meal. Ignoring the anguished groanings of her stomach and the parched complaints of her tongue, her adamance reinstated itself fueling her rebellious desire to outwit the order.

Completely absorbed in her strategical scheme, she was startled when a knock shattered her thoughts into an array of confusion. She eyed the gothic door knob warily, contemplating its intruder.

"It's alright Abby......it's me!.....Andy!"

Her discomfort gradually withered away replaced by tender warmth. How like Andrew to bring her supper, perpetually ensuring her comfort.

"Oh Andy! You're a Godsend!.........All this for me?" She questioned between mouthfuls.

Smitten by her beauty and her enthusiastic display of appreciation, Andrew's heart performed a rapid tumult of emotion.