They always like taking their time. He finds himself in the exact chair he's always in at this time of day, with his hands chained to the table and his back towards the door. They bring him in here and yet they still make him wait. The silence of the room is occasionally broken by the clinging of chains as he moves in unrest due to this starvation. Credi tries to distract himself by finding something worth looking at inside the room. Maybe a new blood stain had made its way somewhere inside the room from one of the previous prisoners.
The dimly lit room is not host to much furniture despite its size. The table in front of him is made from the same rotten wood as the chair he is sitting on. Despite that, the stench that the chair gives is much stronger, that of blood mixed with sweat and traces of urine. The table shows clear signs of struggle. Heads banged onto the table. Moulds of dentures left as imprints into the table edges. Cuts from blades that draw blood from their victims and even reach the table. Though he doesn't want to, his mind drifts to his disciplinary procedure, he knows how others have more physical trials than him, but maybe God wants to keep his body intact.
Credi continues scanning the room. There's a new one! This blood stain looks like a... dove? A pretty fucked up looking dove at that. The stone bricks that make up the walls and the floor of the room, make some of this chaos look more organized, breaking up the stains into canvases, some escaping to neighboring ones. A room rather full of art, but one of them stands above the other.
A painted figure looms over him, a tall man, covered in a gilded cape made of wool. The sharpness of his face is what draws Credi's eyes. A smile is plastered on his face. It borders on showing the whiteness of his teeth. Credi would be fooled if he didn't know this exact look the mysterious man is giving him, the look of superiority. Unlike the rest of the room, the frame and the painting itself are well tended to. Though the cleanest would be the golden plaque below the frame, reading in clear letters "God is merciful". At least that is what they told him, Credi didn't have the privilege of learning how to read.
The sudden creaking of the metal door behind him startles Credi. He waits to be addressed, while the man who entered the room slowly makes his way to the other side of the table. He has a wooden bowl resting in the palm of his left hand. He positions himself to the side of the portrait, raising the bowl to it. It is barely obstructed.
His gaze moves towards Credi. "God is merciful", he utters, waiting in anticipation.
"God is merciful", Credi responds, his eyes glued to the bowl.
The man approaches once more and leaves the food on the table. Credi flings his arms towards it, the chains pulling them back suddenly, it's out of reach. This is different. The man walks around the table, eyes fixed on Credi. As the man's hand reaches down towards the chains, Credi flinches, unprepared for the sudden change in schedule.
"Today is a 'special' day", the man says as he unlocks the shackles. His disappointment escapes the smile that forms on his face.
All of the implications this statement might have caused a moment of falter in Credi, almost making him forget how starved he was. He flings his arms once more towards the bowl, in a single breath, he almost downs the entire bowl. The food is horrible, it always is, it just keeps you going until tomorrow. The realization of his meal's imminent end makes Credi slow down. He takes a little longer with the last few bites.
The meal is now done. The thought of eating with his family reminds him just how alone he feels. His eyes are fixated on the bowl that was left empty not because he loved his mother's food, but because he needed it. He lets go of this moment. He rests his hands onto the table, he closes his eyes. His breathing becomes heavy and he can feel his heart pumping faster. He prepares for it, but it always catches him by surprise. Everything goes silent. He opens his eyes. Darkness. He can feel his limbs still inside the room, though his head is now inside the "vacuum". It's suffocating. His neck muscles are tensing up as a scream instinctively tries to escape his throat. He can feel the air leaving his lungs. It vanishes somewhere along his throat as his anguish tries to escape his body in the only way it knows.
Everything becomes loud, his arms slightly jump up from the table. The piece of cloth that covers his body puffs up. His hair, long enough to notice, flails violently as air closes in onto Credi's head. He feels pressure everywhere all at once. A slight crushing of the skull, not enough to cause pain, but enough to bring great discomfort. The bowl that was on the table flings to Credi's face, hitting him and causing his nose to bleed. As he gasps for air, he hears the bowl roll onto the floor.
"God is merciful", the guard utters.
"God is merciful", Credi repeats immediately after the guard, still panting from the shock.
He lets the blood run down to his chin. It drips on the chair. As he inhales, it starts again. His vision goes dark before he can finish his breath.
"God is merciful", they both say almost at the same time.
Then again, this time his hands reach for his own throat, trying to rip something that would allow air to reach his screaming lungs.
"God is merciful"
And again. Credi falls off the chair, catching a slight bit of oxygen. He panics, he starts reaching for something to pick himself up, but he doesn't know where the table is. A blow to the stomach kicks him back down.
"Get back on the chair" the guard says didactically, as he returns to the other side of the table.
Credi does as he is told, scrambling to pick the chair and himself up as fast as possible. He sits down again, not even getting the chance to brace himself this time before it starts again.
"God is merciful", as if nothing happened, it is routine.
Two hours of endless torture remind Credi that everyday is a living hell. But today is a 'special' day, or so he was told. He has to endure it now to find out what exactly that means. Countless breaths stolen from him, just barely enough to keep him alive.
"God is merciful."
While Credi is still recovering, a hand reaches out towards him. From the other side, the guard is bending over the table, extending his arm to Credi. He senses it is not a gesture the guard is excited about. The portrait stares at Credi alongside the hand reached out to him.
"Today marks the end of your rehabilitation… You must always remember, as a crow, you were never intended to reach the land of God. We, through your rehabilitation, made sure to purify you of your tainted nature, to allow you to join us in the land of God."
"God is merciful", the guard continues.
"God is merciful", Credi answers, after a beat.
"As a graduation gift, God wishes to bestow upon you something" he reaches his hand a little closer to Credi "A contract, if you will. You know how this works, you are a caller after all."
There is a slight moment of hesitation from the guard, followed by a deep breath.
"I, Damian the Flagellant, wish to bestow Emanuel upon thee."
Credi knows this is an order he must follow.
"I, Credi accept thy contract."
As the contract's effect begins to set in, a figure begins to form by Damian's side, the mass of gas that has been the tool of Credi's torture all of these years now has a face… and a name. Emanuel. With the contract's completion, the shape and the colour are both clear: a darkish yellow bundled in the shape of a face with rough features. A pair of soft eyes is glancing at Credi now.
"Now live! You shall too join us in God's paradise upon your departure from this world!" Damian states with his arms open, with great pride of his God's gratitude towards the now purified Credi.
It takes a moment for Credi to fully understand what is happening. His eyes shoot open at this realization. Dried tears of pain now dampen at the touch of fresh ones. The feeling of freedom is short lived though, as a thought jolts through Credi's mind.
"W-What about butchering the pigs… a-and delivering the mail? Who will—"
"You needn't worry about this any longer—" the guard interrupts Credi. "They shall be taken care of by the others."
Credi stares blankly as the guard walks towards him, sack in hand. For the last time in his life, Credi has to see the world through the fabric, as it gets placed over his head. He walks through the same hallways he has walked through for the last ten years, he glances inside the cages. Gypsies line the halls, their heads covered, no need for a name to be given to a body without a face, just sinners to be rehabilitated by the practitioners of God's will. They have to endure this every day, as that is their destiny, to be at the mercy of God's willingness to forgive their existence.
As Credi follows Damian, they come to a stop at a rusted metal door. Above it, the same portrait, the same smile, looking at him now, as the door to his new life opens. Damian gives him one last obligatory smile.
"God is merciful."
"God is merciful", Credi repeats reflexively.
As light floods the hallway, Credi reminds himself of a simple fact. This is the sun. He had not seen it in ten years, yet he still knows it is the same sun he was born under. The same sun that would wake him up while he traveled inside his family's carriage. He thinks of his parents, of the name they have given him: Credi…
He instinctively covers his eyes as he slowly steps into the light. He looks back to the guard as he hears the metal door creaking shut. Damian is not looking at him, no emotion or intent behind this gesture can be extracted from his expression.
Credi turns his gaze back to what is in front of him. He takes in his surroundings. The dead trees and the burnt grass around him give him no clear direction to follow. He looks down at his feet, at the padded dirt that draws his eyes to the horizon. His only wish at the moment is to reach it. And so he begins walking…