Unbreakable Chain of Chosen Blood

She sat in semidarkness in the middle of her living room, rubbing columbine leaves on the back of her hands. The salt, clove and sandalwood used to cast the circle around her made her soul feel protected; the rosemary sprigs, weaved into her loose braid, infused her mind with thoughts of banishment and healing.

It was probably wrong to use this sort of magic against a man who still breathed. But she had tried everything else and nothing worked. Maybe he has been dead for the last decade and I haven’t noticed.

“You’ll learn to never lock me out, woman.” His overused tone oozed through the glass of the balcony doors, and tried to wrap tightly around her neck.

The gun in front of her looked colder and more menacing in the living room, than it had seemed when it was out in the street. She was still staring at the weapon, thinking, I might not be able to do this, when he shattered the glass that stood between them and followed the destruction into her space.

She stood up to face him, but he had turned around seeming to sense what approached from behind.

Her best friend, Ivy—uniformed and armed—plus the entire Women’s Circle, stepped slowly towards him, their hands clasped together in an unbreakable chain of chosen blood.

“I’ve never been afraid of a cunt. Or a dozen of you.” He grinned.

The Women’s Circle continued closing in, now baring their teeth.

He tried to speak again.

The Women’s Circle hissed and growled.

She took two steps towards him, ready to roar in his face like she had practiced for weeks while standing on that same spot. But before pain, rage and disappointment rumbled out of her chest, his right fist struck her left eye.

She stumbled, but didn’t fall.

He raised his fist to throw another punch, but Ivy had him on the floor, handcuffing him and reading him his rights, before he could hit again.

She stared into his startled eyes and roared before Ivy’s partner dragged him out of the room.

Once her legs and her soul stopped shaking, she and the Women’s Circle cleaned and cleansed her old apartment. They helped her put her already packed suitcases into the car she had traded for her old one, and she drove to the hotel she had booked three weeks earlier. After a night of safe rest, she would start the 1,328-mile ride towards the beginning of her life.
.

Process Note: I wrote this bit of story for a friend a few weeks ago. She had been in a terrible relationship for a decade, and after a lot of help from a lot of people was able to leave safely. She gave me permission to share the tale right after I wrote it, but I just couldn’t find the right image to go with it—nothing felt right. Then, a couple of days ago, I received a parcel containing a purchase I made from Touch of the Goddess (I will show you soon). Sharon included a couple of surprises. The moment I saw the red and black “Heart Sister”, I knew it belonged with this story: a person can accomplish way more than “six impossible things before breakfast”, when she or he has an “Unbreakable Chain of Chosen Blood” standing by to offer a hand… or a heart.

linked to Prompt Nights (Guérison par la foi—Faith, healing)

Unbreakable Chain of Chosen Blood

27 thoughts on “Unbreakable Chain of Chosen Blood

  1. The story is so powerful on so very many levels! It is true that Chosen Blood chains can be stronger and more reliable than Birth Blood ones. I am so honored that the heart I sent filled a space to be surrounded by your words! Power to the Sisters!

    • That wonderful heart, imagined by your mind, crafted to life by your hands… is now part of my altar. I love it there. And yes, it “filled a space” that needed something precious. ♥

    • I thought a lot before adding that last violation. Then I decided it was a need–a reminder–sometimes it’s difficult to think back and remember when all went wrong and why. It was like writing a very painful bell that was shouted by a roar of “No more!”

  2. “His overused tone”–what a perfect phrase to conjure with. I think it expresses so well the fatigue that comes with abuse, how one can’t ever prepare for it, even though it is always the same pattern that wears you down. This is both excellent writing, and a very true story–it takes that kind of bond and strength to understand you are not wrong to resist sometimes, that it isn’t all somehow your fault. I also like that you didn’t over-demonize the demon, so that when he fell, it seemed final and put him in the right perspective–something weak overcome. Agree the heart pic goes perfectly, too.

    • The other day, after I spent a long time on the phone with a different friend in a similar situation, my nephew asked me “How can a woman so strong and intelligent let herself be treated that way by a man who is just a piece of crap?” We spent a couple hours speaking about power and how an abuser chooses his or her victims. I’m sharing this to day that I appreciate you mentioning that I “didn’t over-demonize that demon”. I think that these flesh and faults monsters are made so big, by those looking from the outside, that sometimes it is impossible to even think of a way out.

      My friend and I have discussed this story and her story, since she left… Her hands used to get all sweaty just looking at his picture, or knowing that he might be coming her way; now she looks at him and only feels a strange kind of pity.

  3. This is so empowering! Though I haven’t met you, or any of the folks I blog with in real life, I like to think of all of you as my women’s circle 😉

  4. Whoaa! I actually have goosebumps after reading this powerful tale. Especially moved with the part “the rosemary sprigs, weaved into her loose braid, infused her mind with thoughts of banishment and healing.” Beautifully penned. Thank you so much for participating at Prompt Nights 🙂

    Lots of love,
    Sanaa

  5. A story as strong as the chain of love and friendship – and sisterhood – you describe made all the more touching with the postscript. The coldness of the gun and the sense of intrusion in her own space – where everyone has the right to feel safe – struck with me and thank heavens there are people willing to help when the time becomes ‘right’

    • Thank you, Jae Rose. I completely agree. The idea of not being able to feel safe in one’s own home (in one’s own skin!) is monstrous. And the fact that it happens to so many is very sad. Let us hope for more people willing to be there for each other. ♥

  6. This is a wonderful story of determination, resolution and belief in one’s self to rise from whatever ashes we may have to confront. Excellent tale Magaly.

  7. I love how you wrote it out with a message that women will stick up for women. Another message would be: friends help out friends in their times of need. Very important message this story conveys. Thanks for sharing.

Leave a Comment