Chapter Text
The girl.
She couldn’t have been sixteen years old yet, and from the bedraggled looks of her, she was a runaway. Long, dark red locks spilled out from a stained zip-up hoodie that had seen better days. The girl had seen better days as well, having the large, downcast brown eyes only the vulnerable and afraid have. This girl was both. How she landed herself in New Iberia, Abby had no idea. She had been in town on her weekly stop to pick up essentials, and now sat parked in front of her favorite grocery store. Sitting behind the wheel of her trusty older pickup, Abby watched as the girl walked slowly down the sidewalk in front of the store, peering in with obvious hunger painted on her face.
"Girl! You there. You hungry, child?"
Abby had rolled down the window and called out to this sad waif of a girl in a light Creole accent. The redhead had looked up in a bit of shock. It must have been quite a while since anyone had spoken to her so kindly. Abby knew that runaways covered themselves in impenetrable armor as a way to survive, but that same armor could keep a gentle word of kindness from passing through.
"Ma'am?” The girl said, the word coming out creaky and unsure as she pulled that armor around herself. “I’m okay, thank you.”
"Goodness, child. Get in. You're in no shape to walk away from a helping hand. I know trust is hard, but I ran away once, too, and I know the need to have someone or something point you to safety."
That was the truth of the situation. The girl could die alone here in southern Louisiana, and she would be held in the city morgue until her family could be located. If not, she would be interred in the local cemetery, a stranger with the loneliest headstone. The girl looked at her hard for a moment, as if she was reading into Abby, and for the briefest of moments Abby felt exposed. The girl finally blinked in what seemed to be decision, and Abby sighed gently. The girl slid into the seat next to her, and Abby saw that she might be even younger than she had originally guessed. She would find out in a moment.
"So, you have a name?"
Abby turned the ignition of the pickup, and with a growl, it started. Trusty old thing.
"Ruby."
The girl did not give a last name. Abby didn't expect one. The first name was perfect for this lost redheaded doll.
"Ruby, my name is Abigail. As I expect you to follow the rules of my house as I take care of you, I'd prefer to be called Sister Abigail."
"Are you a nun, ma'am?” The question that everyone asked. That, Abby expected as well.
"I used to be, Ruby, I sure used to be. Married to Christ Himself, I was. Left the church many years ago already but the name Sister is one that does not leave me quickly, child. I use it now more in terms of big sister for the family I have grown."
The pickup rumbled away from town and out into wilder places where the houses became less frequent. Soon enough, even those scarce homes were gone as if simply erased from existence, and all the land was bark and leaf as they turned down a slim dirt road. Ruby thought the lands around her looked blurred and bright as if the pickup’s tires stirred up magic as they wound their way through under a canopy of black gum trees. Sunlight filtered through in rays Ruby had never seen before. She was from the city. Which city, she would never say. Trees were a thing you saw in the park or on trips that took you beyond the urban landscapes of buildings and freeways. Ruby silently marveled at it all. Perhaps this was for the best, she told herself. She'd never have seen this unreal place without running away. This had been her way out, and she found herself pulled into the land like she had always existed there.
"How old are you Ruby?" Sister Abigail asked.
Ruby would have lied to anyone else, but she thought that even though she was a lapsed nun, she had still been a nun.
"Twelve, ma'am."
Abby was taken aback. That was so very young. How on earth did she get to where she was at her age? She composed her thoughts quickly. She’d seen a lot of things in her life. This was just one of them, she reminded herself.
"Ruby, I'm sure you'll find things to do while you're here. If you decide you want to stay a bit, that is. You see, I take in orphaned boys and care for them here, so I understand the pain of the young, regardless of where that pain comes from. A lot of the boys are around your age so perhaps you’ll find a friend? You’ll have your own room, so privacy isn’t an issue. You can rest here a while until you plan what to do next, okay?"
Abby knew keeping this girl off the streets was of utmost importance. The choice between sending her away to live or die or keeping her there was not up for discussion, yet she had to make Ruby think she had a choice lest she try to run again. Abby would be the friend she needed at the right time.
The trees soon thinned a bit as they pulled near to what seemed to be the largest cabin Ruby had ever seen. Not that she had seen many cabins, but she’d seen images of some in magazines. They were in places like Utah or Colorado. Louisiana would have been the last place she would have thought to see something like it. The pickup drove up along one side and parked within grooves that the truck had worn away through the years. Ruby stuck her head out the window to look at the cabin; its massive wooden beams made it look like it was grown straight from the earth rather than built. As she gaped at the place, Ruby caught a glimpse of a young face in one of the upper floor windows, but it was gone by the time her eyes focused in. She shivered, not knowing why.
"Boys! I'm home! Help me with the bags!" Sister Abigail called out as she hopped out of the pickup and walked around to lower the tailgate. Young men from every direction ran up and started hugging Abby. She smiled, gave them all a gesture to hold on a moment, and looked straight at Ruby. "Now boys? We have a visitor. Her name is Ruby, and you are to be as kind and polite to her as you are to me, do you understand? She will be with us for a bit. Like many of you she could use support and hope. Come on out, hun."
With that, Ruby shyly slid out of the pickup and slammed the rickety door shut. All about her were those boys; most looked to be older than her, but certainly not by a lot. Curious eyes stared, and she felt like retreating into herself. She instinctively went to stand by Sister Abigail, who was busy grabbing bags from the truck and handing them to the closest hands available.
"Now, no need to stare. You all have seen a girl before, and you see me every day! She’s not a mythical creature, for pity’s sake. Come help with these bags already!" Abby said, exasperated. Ruby followed the gaggle indoors, and was surprised at what she saw.
The first place Ruby saw was the massive living room, which the entryway, lined with coats and boots, led into. The tall, stone fireplace the focal point. It had a rough hewn wood mantle that should have looked sloppy in such a space but only accented the lovely stonework. Along the top sat an array of scented candles and various other collectibles. The chairs and sofas, of which there were many, had a traditional look. They were overstuffed and comfortable looking for the use they likely saw. Lace doilies covered wooden end tables. The home definitely had what seemed to be Sister Abigail's country, feminine touch. The scent of pine and apples wafted in the air. The air inside was as refreshing as finding such a place to be able to stay for a while. Ruby felt grateful for the first time in much too long.
"I'll have one of the boys show you to your room. Bray?” Abigail called up in the direction of the stairs. “Bray, baby? Come down here and help me?"
Sister Abigail looked at Ruby, and smiled, resting a hand on Ruby’s thin shoulder. Abby noted that getting this girl proper nutrition would be imperative.
"Bray is your age. You two would be the youngest here then. I hope you both can find things in common. He needs a friend."
Sister Abigail had said the last part quietly, leaning in to Ruby.
Bounding down the stairs came a tall, well built boy. His hair was the color of the wooden mantle, as if the ax that cut that tree down found a boy curled inside.
"Thank you baby. This is Ruby. Please take her to the room next to yours, okay? You all cleaned in there this week, right? There should be no dust? Good. Run along for now. Ruby? I'll bring you up something to eat, and then we can have a tour of everything later."
Bray nodded to follow him, then walked ahead of Ruby, leading her silently up a couple flights of stairs. The place looked big on the outside but felt so much larger inside than Ruby dared dream as they moved past door after door. They walked down a carpeted hallway towards the very end.
"You were the face I saw in the window." Ruby didn't ask. She knew.
The boy turned to look at her. His eyes were bright blue but even that brightness could not cut through strange shadows within. He shrugged, tucked a strand of shoulder length hair behind his ear, and continued walking. He was kind enough to at least gesture to a small bathroom nestled between the rooms. He might have even mumbled something but it was nothing Ruby could hear. The very last door of the hallway he opened, and he showed her inside. There was a twin sized bed with a lovely scrolling black metal frame. There was a wooden dresser and a small matching desk with a lamp. Plain white curtains billowed in the air conditioning. It was simple but it sure beat sleeping at a bus station, curled up on the hard floor, and it had the same rustic sort of charm the entire place held. Ruby was beyond grateful for it all. She turned to Bray, but he had left in silence as if silence was the only thing he understood. He was one of the orphans Sister Abigail took care of, and Ruby understood that perhaps he had his own things to deal with. He was strange, but he would be her neighbor. Perhaps they could become friends one day?
~ Abigail: The Bee and the Buzzard ~
“On this blessed day, February the Eleventh, we celebrate the Feast of Saint Abigail, chosen by God to found her own order to help the sick and the needy. She had run away from her family to find peace, and found a place she thought she could settle in until an angel spoke to her, telling her that the place was not where she would find her blessed Resurrection in. She would instead settle where she would find nine white deer. After searching, she found the herd of white deer, and knowing God had kept His Word, she did as well, and settled down right there.
Saint Abigail would go on to start a Holy Order with her brother, who would also go on to become a saint. As Abbess, she would help any in need, and became known for healing the sick with honey that she would harvest from the bees she kept. She became associated with her beekeeping, and thus became the Patron Saint of Honey Bees and Beekeeping. Like a hive of honey bees, an Order must work together to create a space where God can thrive at the very heart of this place, with the love and adoration He deserves. On this day you, our beloved Abigail, named after the Blessed Saint, have decided to start your journey with us in this place of worship and service to Our Heavenly Father. This day we celebrate the entrance of not just a sister, but a friend in His Holy Name. We welcome you, Sister Abigail.”
Shrouded in white, the veiled novice was now a nun. She had done the work to show her merit and devotion not just to the Order but to Christ Himself, and her new solemn vows to the Order were also vows to her new Bridegroom in Heaven. The rest of her life would be devoted to the upkeep of day to day life within the convent as well as perpetual worship. She longed for this life of cloistered contemplation of the Divine. Yes, her namesake had been a nun as well, and she supposed she carried that destiny within herself the moment she was born on Saint Abigail’s own feast day. She was born for this life, and she ached for that sacred Union she could find in such a place as this.
The thought of ardent Union made Abigail feel lightheaded, and feared the sisters would read her thoughts. Thoughts she’d have of becoming just another body within the Holy Harem, having to chase her Husband with prayer like nagging; begging for His presence to descend upon her. A thing so rapturous that a litany of nuns and monks have swooned like a lover, having had their hearts ravished and their souls left in a state of heaving, heavenly release. Yet she was another in a line of sister wives, and Christ was going to be much too busy to notice a pathetic, wanting thing such as her. Even as she received the silver ring of this mystical marriage she didn’t think the Groom even noticed. The honeymoon would be bible verses and tears for that One who would be too far away to notice them.
That night was indeed filled with bible verses, and after her small light went dark in her cell, the tears started as her hand reached down to that place that wasn’t holy but dangerous, and she felt she needed her Holy Lover to be dangerous as well. Each gentle rub was a demand to be taken into His Mysteries and His tenderest embrace. She came quietly, the tiniest squeak escaping her gaping mouth but the sensation akin to the collision of giant moons. Her tears kept falling, soaking into the pillow as if that’s what its real responsibility was; a sponge for all the tears of the world.
A hand clamped over her mouth, and she knew something like fear, but she was more intrigued. How could anyone have hidden away in such a tiny space? Even her small closet didn’t have a door. The hand tightened a little more on her mouth and Abigail’s sharp inhalation was the only gasp she could make. She wondered who this was, this night visitor sent to torment her because of what she demanded of the heavens as she touched herself. She was intrigued; she was once more aroused. The man uncovered her mouth.
“Be silent. Do not rouse the sleepers; they who will remain asleep their entire lives. I bring glad tidings unto you, and I offer my own mysteries. I will also make sure you enjoy your wedding night very, very much.”
He visited her often. She would never see him but would feel his presence after the light would go out, and then her body would melt at the thought of this dire, unseen Cupid inside of her. She thought of him ravishing her body as she had imagined she would be ravished in the spirit, but there was no God here. Only… him. He who had his own shadowed gospel to share with her. She could feel his very essence flow into her like his release did, but only one would plant a seed. Abnormal ovaries since birth took away her ability to bear children, yet even in her barren season she felt fertile in his darkness. Abigail could grow a wild garden inside of her, and he carefully watered the newest blooms with his words and his abandon into her. He would whisper to her that he had chosen her long ago, and that she would have a great work to do.
“Blessed be this empty womb, for the world cries out for the one who will destroy the Machine, and this internal void will become an incubator for her power which I offer to her in my name.” She didn’t even know his name. She never asked. Images of black buzzards would fill her mind when she thought of him. “She will be the mother of a new Republic.”
He left her, and three days later she left the convent, still garbed as if a nun yet running from the place as if she were on fire, flailing in the inferno of oaths forsworn. It was time for many things, but most of all it was time to go back to where she was born; to New Iberia, Louisiana where the buzzards flew. Their shadowed wings would lead her to a new home and a new destiny. She knew what lie ahead for her, and the promise of that new fate ignited a zeal she never would have felt in a convent. Her mother used to call her “mouche à miel”, meaning honey bee, in her French Cajun patois, because of the sainted nun whose name she bore. Well, Abigail wasn’t a beekeeper or a saint. She would be a shepherd.
The first full day at the cabin Ruby slept without even eating for she was in a place beyond exhaustion, and Abby let her, checking in on her to make certain she would drink some water from time to time. The following days were spent feeding Ruby, starting slowly as Ruby’s body needed time to rebound from weeks without much of anything. Abigail worked on a couple of simple tops and bottoms for her to wear in the meantime as the clothing Ruby had come there with now was a reminder of the terror of being on the streets, exposed to the elements and the harshness of the world. Abby asked Ruby if she had been injured in any way while she ran. Thankfully she was spared any violence beyond being yelled at or pushed roughly, considered the disposable nobody she would have been seen as out there. Abby knew Ruby was one of the fortunate ones. Even some of her boys, having found their way into what should have been the safety of the foster care system, became runaways as well, escaping places that only wanted to abuse them yet finding themselves in similar straits elsewhere. This carefully created tabernacle in the woods was Abby’s gift to them. To the world.
Even as Ruby seemed more or less healthy- a bit thin and pale certainly, but not covered in bruises or cuts, Abigail would still see her flinch every now and then. Loud noises or sudden touches would make her cry out a squeak like a mouse caught stealing cheese. She’d seen some of the boys go through the same thing, a sign of possible PTSD. She would never pry into Ruby’s reasons for running away. Abby didn’t want to frighten her off, again thinking of the terrible fates many runaways shared. Abby knew she could be called many things, but the day she took the first lost and lonely boy in she knew she could help make a difference, and she would try her best to continue the practice.
Abby, Ruby, and a few of the other boys walked about the place Abby called "the compound”. There were chickens in one small building, a few milk cows in another, and all the while the boys would show off different chickens or wave buckets for cow’s milk around in show and tell style. There was a big shed for storing supplies like tools, shovels, and a couple of wheelbarrows among other items. Though not fully autonomous, the compound lived off of donations from kindly people who knew of Abby's work with the orphans. Some of the older boys would go sell eggs and whatever was in season in the garden at the weekly farmer's market in New Iberia. They made it this way. Ruby could tell Abigail was proud of what she had built, there in that compound. The whole place piqued Ruby's curiosity, and this is exactly what Abby hoped for. Ruby would ask questions and Abby or one of the boys would answer, making Ruby ask even more. This would make Ruby stay a while, and that was good. Already her color was much better and her influence on the boys seemed to make them civil, at least for now. They would become wild creatures again as the novelty wore off, Abby was sure.
Occasionally Ruby would see Bray. Usually at dinner where the entire "family" would eat at a long table in the formal dining room that wasn’t very formal at all. Not with the Christmas patterned drapes over the windows.
“We used to change them with the season but soon we stopped bothering, and now Christmas is year round.” Abby would chuckle as she’d run her fingers over those drapes.
All the boys called each other ‘brother’, Ruby learned. Now that she had been there a full week, she was ‘Sister’ Ruby. As the two youngest, Brother Bray and herself would be seated at the end of the table. Normally Bray would eat quickly, then ask in a quiet voice to be excused. Ruby thought Sister Abigail was disappointed in his lack of desire to want to reach out but would let him go anyway, a rather sad look upon her face.
He never wanted to reach out. It had taken Abby much time and patience to get him to where he was at that point. He had come to her the ultimate blank slate, and as such, things wished to write their own words upon him. Unknowable things that roamed like untamed beasts inside his mind that needed to be taken care of. All in time. To Ruby, he was a mystery to be solved. That alone pulled her to him, beyond something that Ruby couldn’t quite grasp. Something elusive. At night she would lie in bed and wonder what his story was. What parts of him were so damaged that he was like that? Even she had her stories, didn’t she? She had run away because of them, but she wasn't so distant. In a way, he was romantic to her, this almost silent boy; he fired her imagination. Some nights she would press her hand against the wall they shared as if information would flow into her just from the questions she would whisper at that wall. At him.
The boy.
Bray Wyatt. He was the boy that did not exist. Or perhaps it was better to say should not exist. There had been a fire, and it had not touched him, but had scarred his very soul, leaving it black and smoking and useless. He could see his parents vividly in his memories, even as small as he was back then he remembered this. From where he had stood, a toddler within his crib, it looked like they had been dancing in those flames, not flailing, as they died. He did not dance; had not given in to the fire’s siren song, and so had survived somehow.
After that Abby took him in, still a babe. As he grew she would tell stories of a thing in the woods. He found it, or it found him. That hadn’t been all that long ago, but it also left his soul darkened and useless. Those strange eyes. Those eyes that ate into his dreams at night. The Man In the Woods, Abby had named it. Fear, such fear in his useless soul. He must have been a very bad boy. This is all he knew. He deserved these worldly punishments because Bray was a demon in a human skin and no one should come close to him; there was no salvation to be had. No one should dance in his flames. No one should meet the darkness within.
Ruby saw it. She saw it in him the same Sister Abigail did and he was sore afraid of her. Better to stay in the dark than to be drawn out by the light. He clearly saw her handprint glowing on his wall as she tried to draw him out. Heard her faint whispers that wove their way to him. He sent his thoughts back through that wall: stay out. Stay away. He would rock back and forth, back and forth, until that handprint finally disappeared.