The Possessed

by Kirk Kilgrave

  “It’s true,” I told her. “A demon snuck into your skin a couple of days ago, and the two people I brought here…helped get rid of it.”

  “No,” she said, touching her stomach and her shoulders before passing her fingers across her cheek. “I don’t feel like myself.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, fearing that demon had returned. Then again, it didn’t get colder in here, nor had the stink reentered the house.

  “I feel weak and tired.” Noelle went about fixing herself a drink.

  “Do you remember impersonating me and accusing my boyfriend of rape?”

  “What?” She snapped to attention. “I don’t even know his name. Besides, why would I do that?”

  “But you did, Noelle, because that demon was inside you, guiding your actions.”

  She cracked a condescending half-grin. “There’s no way I’d do that to you.”

  “But the demon would…and it did!” I got out my phone, pulled up the video on YouTube, and showed it to her.

  Aghast, Noelle covered her mouth with her palm. Her face had gone white, and she swallowed hard with a pained expression. “Off.” She swung her head to the side, disgusted. “Turn it off!” When I did, she said, “Is he okay? Your boyfriend?”

  “He’s dealing with the demon’s actions, but yes, I think he’ll get everything straightened out.”

  Noelle exited the kitchen and veered to the couch, forcing Lilah to bend her legs to avoid having her daughter sit on her lap. She fell onto the sofa and into the contours of some sofa pillows.

  “An ‘excuse me,’” said our mother with annoyance, “would have been preferable to ignoring my presence.” But she wasn’t upset enough to tear her gaze from the TV.

  Recalling that Noelle said she was hungry but nauseous, I said to Lilah, “Did she eat anything over the last two days?”

  My mother shrugged and turned to Noelle. “Don’t consider Jocelyn’s comments as truth. She feels shunned, so she’s lashing out. It’s neither alarming nor new. She grew up following that same pattern day in, day out.”

  I couldn’t argue with Lilah’s statements. I’d been young and immature, but to hear Lilah act as though I hadn’t grown up and eschewed my childish behavior showed how little she knew me.

  “And don’t consider mother’s comments as truth,” I told Noelle, taking Lilah’s words as my own. “She’s sloshed. ‘It’s neither alarming nor new,’”

  “Touché,” said Lilah, barely clapping her hands, emitting no sound.

  “Do you remember using the Ouija board?” I asked Noelle.

  “Yes, but Lilah—”

  “But Lilah,” repeated my mother in a childish tone. “The parent is always to blame, is that your argument? That is utter nonsense.” She put the glass to her lips and waited for the liquid to slide into her mouth, but with the glass empty, she tapped the bottom of it, hoping to spill at least one last drop from it. Nothing tapped her tongue. Heaving with a sigh of irritation, she jumped to her feet, but swayed for a moment, unsteady before regaining her balance, and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Lilah,” I said, “don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Nona’s concern for my mother entered my mind, but it seemed today I wouldn’t have to worry about Lilah calling upon demonic forces, but drinking herself into a blackout.

  “I know my limit. I haven’t reached it yet.” Lilah returned from the kitchen. For every ounce of lemonade she added to her glass, she equaled that with vodka.

  I wanted to jump up and rip the glass from her hands, but it wouldn’t solve the underlying issue that encouraged Lilah to drink, so it would only make matters worse. “Do you remember anything that happened over the last few days?” I asked my sister.

  “I may have,” she said, glancing at me before turning her thoughts inward as she winced, “listened to a voice telling me I’d get something if I’d do something…” She flinched and turned aside.

  “What?” I asked. “I don’t follow.”

  “I wanted to be somebody,” she said with tears lining her eyes. “Well, maybe, I would have done anything to get the anchor position.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked.

  “My boss. He came on to me so many times, and I’d always blown him off, but a couple of days ago, when he came on to me again, saying I could become an anchor, I turned to him and…”

  My heart thundered in my ribcage. I didn’t need to see the tears that dropped from my sister’s eyes to know she was repulsed by her behavior. I made my way over to the couch and put my hand on her shoulder.

  “This voice kept telling me to do it. I can hear it even now. Do it. You want to. Admit it. Let it happen. It’ll feel so good, so delightful.” My sister’s back arched forward and she gagged, but projectile didn’t spring forth, possibly because she hadn’t consumed anything of late. After taking some heavy breaths and blinking a number of times in quick succession, she let her back fall against the cushions behind her.

  “Those thoughts kept coming to me,” she continued, “and they sounded so natural and comforting. I wanted to listen to them, wanted to give in, wanted to let it happen. And I wanted that job so bad. So I did. I let it happen.”

  I glanced at Lilah. “We should talk about this privately.” The idea of airing these thoughts in front of our mother seemed wrong.

  “It gets worse,” Noelle said, ignoring my concerns and clearing away a fresh batch of tears.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised by her need to keep talking. Rather than having a traditional mother-daughter relationship, my sister and Lilah were first and foremost best friends. “How does it get worse?” I asked.

  “He’s like seventy-two or something.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying to hide my repulsion.

  “He has thirteen grandchildren.

  I took in a gust of oxygen into my lungs and tried not to judge her. It was incredibly difficult.

  “And he’s married.”

  “What the hell, Noelle!” A second later, I silently l chastised myself. It wasn’t her fault.

  My sister spun my way, a sob racking her to tilt my way until her body rested against mine. “So I punched him in the throat.”

  “Huh?” I asked, confused. “You didn’t have sex with him?”

  “No,” she said, grimacing at me. “That’s disgusting. After I punched him, he fell to the ground and grabbed his neck with one hand and his left arm with his other.”

  I was relieved to hear that the demon hadn’t forced her to have sex with a grandfather, but the way Noelle cringed made me wonder if the story could get any worse.

  “He was having a heart attack,” Noelle said. “So, I got down beside him and grabbed his balls. I remember that really well because they were so squishy. And then I crunched them in my palm and said, ‘You will give me that job.’ I was so angry that I didn’t care how much he was wheezing for air and recoiling in pain and how tears kept slipping from his eyes. I said, ‘If you don’t give me that job, I’ll tell the network how you harassed me, how you touched me. Then I’ll visit your house and tell your wife, your kids, and your grandchildren. I’ll fucking ruin you!”

  I stared at her, shocked. “Did he harass you? Touch you?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “Each time, I told him to stop, but he played it off as a joke, but the lust in his eyes…it was real.”

  Her boss had acted inappropriately. No one could dispute that, but he’d had a heart attack and couldn’t breathe. “What happened to him?”

  “His heart almost stopped beating.”

  I winced. “He died?”

  “No,” she said. “I called the paramedics and gave him CPR. When they arrived, they set up the AED and jolted him back to life. The paramedics called me a hero.”

  “That’s my girl!” said Lilah with a proud gleam in her eye.

  “I can’t believe I did that,” said Noelle. Moisture accumulated in her eyes. “Everyone in the office called me a lifesaver, but I almost killed him.”


  I pulled her close and grasped her tightly, feeling her back hitch as she cried. “It’s okay. The demon was controlling you.”

  “Do you think I didn’t stop him because of this demon or because I wanted that job so badly?”

  “Have you ever wanted to murder someone before?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “So the answer is no. You wouldn’t have done that to your boss if you weren’t possessed.”

  “I don’t know,” Noelle said. “I mean, every other reporter has, at least, a Bachelor’s degree. Some have two Master’s degrees. Maybe my boss was right. Maybe I’m just ‘a hot piece of ass who can read words on a Teleprompter.’”

  “He only said that to manipulate you. Not that it’s any consolation, but I don’t think he’ll risk harassing another woman, do you?”

  “No, I guess not. I got the job, but I didn’t deserve it. You know it. I know it. My boss knows it. And soon, every viewer will know it.” She hung her head.

  Lilah took a sip from her drink. “Damn, I make the best cocktails.” With a grin, she extended her arm with her glass tilted my way. “Want a sip? It tastes soooo good!”

  “I’ll pass.”

  Lilah started toward the couch but spilled some of her drink on the hardwood floor. “Hey! John Doe! Come lick this up.”

  Anger burned inside me, momentarily setting aside my concern for Noelle. “J.D. isn’t here, Mother. He’s gone, remember? He left the house. Probably to get away from you.”

  She turned a harsh glare on me. “How is that my fault?” She scowled. “Don’t forget I’m the one who cleans up his shit twice a day on our walks.”

  Noelle turned to me. “Where did he go? I don’t remember.”

  Lilah snarled at me as she plopped down on the couch. “Poor little rich girl, who got all the love and attention from Daddy Dearest.”

  “But none from you,” I said, bolting to my feet. “What did I ever do to make you hate me?”

  A wicked grin appeared on her lips as she stared into my eyes. But she didn’t say a word. She just kept looking at me with that secretive smirk.

  I shivered at the intensity of her stare.

  She turned her attention upon the television. “Poor little rich girl, who—”

  “I’m not rich! I owe over $25,000 dollars in school loans from just the last two years because you gave up your job, so you could concentrate on drinking full-time. If you continued working, I’d have gotten a scholarship. Maybe I grew up with wealthy parents, but now I’m the one supporting this family. So don’t give me—”

  “Stop!” said Noelle, covering her ears with both palms as she shot to her feet. “J.D’s missing, so why aren’t we looking for him?”

  “We did,” I said. “Both of us. We scoured the neighborhood. I’m hoping someone will check his name tag and call us.”

  Noelle shook her head. “This is…” She pushed off the couch, the muscles in her arms trembling from the effort. “I’m sick of you two fighting all the time.”

  I shot up to catch her if need be, but she righted herself and waved me off.

  “Leave me alone.” My sister vacillated for a moment until she regained her balance and then headed for the stairs.

  Unwilling to let her out of my sight since she might not make it to her room without faltering, I started to follow her.

  She spun back to me and shoved a hand out to stop me. “Just leave me be, okay? Please?”

  I couldn’t imagine the confusion and inner turmoil that racked her mind. But like Lilah and me, Noelle had a stubborn streak, one that would make her double down on demanding some alone time. For that reason, I decided to leave her alone. At least for now, anyway.

  “Little miss, fix-it,” said Lilah with humor in her voice once my sister vanished from view.

  I reconsidered hurrying up the steps after my sister, but Nona’s voice entered my mind: Look after your mother.

  “Oh,” Lilah said, pushing up against the cushions behind her. She took a gulp of her drink and slammed the glass down on the table beside her. “My little girl developed some backbone. How fascinating!”

  “What’s your problem?” I asked. “Why do you hate me so much?”

  “Whoever said I hated you? I merely dislike you. You see, Jocelyn – oh, how I hate that name – your father chose it, by the way. That name works so tirelessly to earn a modicum of class, but it’s pretentious. It’s fitting that you own it. Your sister, on the other hand, has me to thank for giving her such a timeless, unique name.”

  “Why are you so mean to her?” Noelle asked from upstairs, appearing around the corner with a disapproving expression. “All that she’s accomplished and done for us, and you’re shitting all over her? Are you kidding me?”

  “Because she’s self-righteous,” answered Lilah. “Don’t you see the pity in her eyes whenever she looks at me? Like my life is insignificant? Like I’m worthless?”

  Noelle looked too pale and physically depleted to take part in this argument. “I need sleep.” She disappeared from view again.

  “I’ll come with.” I started toward her, eager to get away from my mother.

  “No,” said my sister. “Alone time, remember?”

  When a door shut upstairs, Lilah hit the remote to switch the channel. A soap opera appeared on the screen. “These shows are so uplifting. They marinade in drug abuse, infidelity, mayhem, and murder.” She beamed with gaiety. “It makes me feel good about my life.”

  I shook my head at my mother, wondering if she’d ever run out of ways to stoop to new lows.

  “Noelle’s disappointed in you,” my mother said, “for not getting rid of that demon sooner. You’re still her big sister, even if she’s more successful than you. She still expects you to look after her.” A vile glare appeared on her face. “You failed. Even worse, you didn’t even try. You let some outsider do it. That’s sad!”

  “Why are you so negative? Not just now but always. It’s like you have a shadow, even when there’s no sunlight anywhere nearby. And you bask in the darkness like it’s a bubble bath.”

  Ever so slowly, my mother tilted her head in my direction. “I’m so glad you asked, daughter dearest.” She pushed off the couch with determination and met my gaze with great ire. “If we’re completely honest…can I be honest with you, Jocelyn?”

  It felt like I’d get what I’d always wanted, but the pleasure she took in looking as if she’d been saving this moment for years unsettled me. “Nothing stopped you before,” I managed to say.

  “Oh,” she said, a shining smile lighting her face, “if you only knew!” She nodded, now in wonderful spirits, as though she were once more a child on Christmas morning removing all her gifts from under the tree. “All right. Let’s begin: I don’t like you, Jocelyn. I never did. With every breath, with every step, you’ve always been a disappointment. Your father and I taught classes and wrote books. What will you accomplish?”

  Under attack, I wanted to explain what I’d been working toward, but my mother ended her last paragraph with a cliffhanger, so I held my tongue.

  Lilah permitted a cynical smile. “You were supposed to be the best parts of your father and myself, and yet, here you are, a tomboy who prefers to toil with beams and drywall, who gets pleasure from fixing toilets and heating and cooling systems, who likes dealing with inconsequential matters on the grand scale of humanity.” She set her hands on her waist. “Now do you see why I’ve long dismissed your ‘abilities’ as nothing more than a mere disappointment? Your intellectual prowess couldn’t approach that of your father’s, or mine, for that matter.” She lowered her gaze. “Don’t you see, Jocelyn? We’d hoped for so much more from you. And you’ve let us down in so many ways.”

  Shortly before my father died, I’d overheard Lilah telling him that they shouldn’t criticize Noelle for deciding not to attend college, that they couldn’t thrust their opinions on her because she had no interest in learning, just getting on television and looking pretty. Therefore, because I w
illingly went to college, Lilah measured me against her success and obviously felt that I should live up to her reputation, whereas Noelle didn’t fit in the same mold, so trying to compare her goals would never compete with those Lilah and my father had achieved.

  Of course, I always knew I disappointed my mother by not reaching for a career similar to hers, especially because early indications from test scores showed that I had the capacity to skip a couple of grades, but I never cared about any of that. In class, I was extremely focused, so when school let out, I didn’t do my homework or study. I did it all at lunch, before each class, during class, or not at all. I aced every test, quiz, and project, and I ended up with B’s or C’s. At first, Lilah tried to encourage me to study, but when I refused that path, she shut me out before finally accepting my decision – after years of disappointment. Or so I thought. All told, Lilah considered my rebellion as unforgivable, the only possibility that her intellectual prowess could live on after she’d passed.

  “I’ve always known you’d fail us,” my mother continued, “but I never knew it would be by such a wide margin. Your father and I were absurdly successful, so expecting the same of you would be unfair. Still, I’d hoped that you’d at least try. You might even have come close. But a common laborer?” She shivered. “To disregard your father’s genius by lowering yourself to standards which the least educated cling to is sacrilege. He would be so ashamed.”

  I recalled my father’s words the day before he died on the road: “I don’t care what you do or what you become. You could become a stay-at-home mom or the baker of a small business, a race car driver or the vice-president of a Fortune 500 company. Follow your dreams. Never let failure stand in your way. Whatever you do, just make sure you’re doing it because it makes you happy.” I’d memorized those words and silently repeated them day after day, because it revealed the essence of my father’s thoughtfulness.