by Julie Frayn
The girl winced and tried to pull free from his grasp but he held tight. “Father came to set us free from our sins,” she squealed. “He must be allowed to finish or the demons will become stronger. They will continue to trespass. He must be allowed to finish!” Her eyes pleaded with Guy, then softened. She smiled, appearing serene despite his grip. “It works. I know. He delivered me.” She turned to August. “Perhaps you would like him to cast out yours?”
August reached back and took Reese’s hand. “No thanks. My demons are just fine right where they are.”
The girl squinted and looked from her to Reese and back. “The wicked will continue to be wicked.”
Guy twisted her arm and leaned in, his face just an inch from hers. “Fuck this bullshit! Where is he?”
She didn’t answer, but glanced past him toward a staircase against the side wall.
He looked back, threw away the girl’s arm like it was on fire and then sprinted for the stairs, Reese and August on his heels.
“No!” the girl screamed behind them. “You can’t interfere. I’ll call the police.”
At the top of the stairs, a hall ran the length of the shallow building, three closed doors lined up along it. Guy threw open the first door. Its knob pounded against the adjacent wall and the three of them burst in.
It was a small room with two cots on opposite sides, a simple dresser between them laden with large brass candlesticks dripped melted wax. The aroma of hot, sweet tea cut through the stale dusty air. A young girl, no more than twelve years old, sat on the farthest bed, one eye blackened. An older girl held a teacup to the child’s mouth. They looked up when the door flew open, but neither showed any sign of surprise or concern, just gazed blankly at the three of them.
August stared at the girls, resisting the urge to jump in and try to rescue them. She was only there for Amber. When Reese brushed past her and told her to come, she just turned away and left them there.
Before Guy opened the second door, muffled shouts came from the end of the hall. He bolted to the last door, twisting the handle and pushing against it, but was met with the firm resistance of a lock. He rammed the door hard with his shoulder. A sharp crack echoed in the hall, but the door didn’t budge.
“Amber!” He banged on the wood.
“Guy?” Amber called out from behind the door, her voice weak and pitiful. “Guy, help me!”
Reese motioned to Guy to move aside and took as long a run at the door that the narrow space would allow. When his shoulder hit, the weakened jamb gave way. He tumbled into the room and landed on his ass at Father Patrick’s bare feet.
August registered what she saw like a series of evil snapshots. Father Patrick stood in the middle of the room, shirtless with his pants unzipped. Blood stained his knuckles and was smudged on one cheek. Malevolence glinted in his eyes. More brass candlesticks sat on another dresser. Yellow wax dripped from long-burning candles.
Amber sat on a cot shoved against the wall, one ankle tethered to the bed by strips of ivory cloth. She cowered in the corner, a thin blanket pulled up to cover her naked body. Her mouth was bloody, one cheek purple and swollen. Blood dripped down her face from a deep cut above her left eye.
August ran to her, gathered the sobbing girl in her arms and hugged her, then rocked her like a child. “I’ve got you. It’s all right,” she whispered into Amber’s ear.
Father Patrick thrust one arm out, pointing to the door, and bellowed down at Reese, “Get out! Out!”
Guy approached a heap on the bed across the room. He pulled the sheet back. “Ricki!”
Ricki lay on the bed, her face a mangled pulp. Large drops of yellow candle wax dotted her arms and legs and was pooled on her abdomen.
Amber buried her face into August’s shoulder and wept. August went numb. She froze in place and stared at Ricki.
Guy lifted one of Ricki’s eyelids and looked into her face then spun around. “You killed her, you fucking bastard.”
“That one was beyond redemption.” Father Patrick turned back to Reese and stepped toward him. “Now leave. How dare you interfere with the deliverance?”
Guy grabbed the largest candlestick from the dresser. “Deliver this, you prick.” He held the weapon low and swung it up. The candlestick caught Father Patrick under his chin and sent him flying backwards. The priest bounced off the edge of the cot where Ricki’s body lay exposed and hit the floor with a loud, hollow thud.
“No! Stop!” The girl from downstairs had appeared in the doorway. “Leave him alone. The police are coming. I called the police!”
“Good.” Guy grasped Reese’s hand and helped him up from the floor. “Let ‘em come.”
The girl scurried from the room. Her shuffling footsteps echoed along the hall and down the stairs.
“Nice hit.” Reese patted Guy on the back. He inched toward Ricki and knelt beside the bed, taking one of her hands in his, then dropped his head.
Guy stood over Father Patrick’s unconscious form, then kicked the man. Guy’s foot flailed against Father Patrick’s legs, stomach, shoulders and head. The room fell silent except for Amber’s soft sobs and Guys footsteps circling the priest.
Reese stood, wiped tears from his cheeks, then grabbed a heap of clothes from beside the cot and handed them to August. He sat on the bed next to Amber and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You okay? Did he…”
Amber nodded and broke down in tears. “He was going to kill me too, I know he was. He’s fucking crazy!”
Reese hugged her into him and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Guy gripped the candlestick, his knuckles white, and paced the room. He pulled one leg back and kicked the man’s thigh. Then pummeled Father Patrick’s shin, his arm, his side. When Guy kicked him in the groin, Father Patrick groaned and started to come to.
August turned away and gagged. The room spun and her stomach churned, but she wanted Guy to keep kicking.
“C’mon asshole, get up and fight me,” Guy said under his breath. Then he bent over. “Wake the fuck up,” he yelled into the man’s face.
August freed Amber from the ankle tether and helped her dress, glancing at Reese sitting on the cot. How could he be so casual and cool about this? Every bit of her trembled, a torrent of adrenaline coursed through her. He just eyed the injured man without any evidence of feeling. It was as if he was numb to the evil in the world, to the bad things people did.
The faint sound of sirens crept through the walls.
“They’re looking for her.” Amber put her hand on Reese’s arm. “You need to get her out of here. Now.”
“What? Who?”
His face registered something. Was it concern? Confusion? Fear? She couldn’t read him at all. Maybe he didn’t know how to feel anything. But he did, she knew he did. Wasn’t that why he cut himself? He almost killed himself to protect her, so she’d go home. To save her. He’d lost the ability to feel his own pain, but seemed to feel hers tenfold. Maybe it was love he couldn’t deal with. Love and caring confused him, forced him to face feelings that were peculiar to him, emotions he didn’t understand.
“The cops. August. Her parents. Get her the hell out of here or you’re going to lose her too. Find us later.”
“No.” August put Amber’s jacket around her shoulders. “We’re not leaving without you.”
“August.” The sound of her real name coming from Guy’s mouth was jarring. He took her hands, pulled her up from the cot and looked her right in the eye. “Go, August. Get out of here.” He dug into his pocket and turned to Reese, pressing coins into his hand. “Get her out of here, man. Take her home.”
Reese stood and looked at the coins. He dropped them in the front pocket of his jeans, seized Guy in an embrace and patted him hard on the back. He glanced down at Father Patrick. “What’s your plan?”
Guy grinned and patted Reese’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I got this.”
Reese nodded. He turned to Father Patrick and hit him with
one hard kick to the back. “Fucking bastard.” He put two fingertips to his lips and threw a kiss to Amber, spreading his fingers to flash a peace sign, then grasped August’s hand and pulled her toward the door.
“Get up, you old bastard.” Guy booted Father Patrick in the side. “Get up. So I can fucking knock you down again.”
August stopped at the threshold and turned back. She shared a look with Amber who mouthed ‘go,’ and shooed her away with one hand.
Father Patrick groaned and stirred. Then he started to sit up.
Guy raised the candlestick above his head. A glint of light reflected off the brass.
Reese pulled her into the hallway. A dull thud sounded, followed by another and another. It filled her with sickening dread. And an odd sense of relief.
They ran down the stairs and out the front door into the late afternoon heat. Reese held her hand, led her up the sidewalk and sprinted away from the nearing sirens. When they got to the end of the block August looked over her shoulder. The scene unfolded in surreal slow motion – two police cars screeched to a stop in front of the ministry, lights flashed, cops jumped out with guns drawn.
Reese and August rounded the corner and kept going without looking back again.
A few blocks away they came across a subway station and rushed down the stairs. Reese dug the coins out of his pocket and slid them through a hole in a Plexiglas sheet to a waiting ticket agent. Tickets in hand, they pushed through the turnstile and raced toward the train waiting on the platform. A second before they got to it the doors closed and the train pitched forward.
Reese slapped the window with an open palm. “Fuck!” He spun around and put his hands on his hips, breathing hard. “Shit, sorry. There’ll be another one in a while.” He looked around the large space then took her hand and led her away from the platform.
Overflowing trash bins dotted the station, the cement floor strewn with litter. The entire place stank of urine and vomit and rotting garbage. A heavy cloud of perfume and sweat clung to it all. Footfalls echoed off the tile walls and faint squeaks rose above the din of voices. A pair of rats poked their heads out from behind a garbage can, scurried across the floor and disappeared onto the tracks. A couple of waiting passengers jumped and squealed, but most either glanced at the rodents without any apparent concern or ignored them altogether. The same way strangers in this city looked at her and her friends. Like they just didn’t matter.
Reese found a quiet place near the back of the station. He and August dropped to the floor in silence and sat with their backs against the wall.
Her knuckles paled as she squeezed his fingers. “He killed him, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know. I think so. I hope so.”
“Will they take him to jail?” She huffed a derisive laugh. “Of course they will, you fucking idiot.” She hung her head, tears burning her eyes. “Oh my God, I can’t believe he killed Ricki.” She looked up at him. “But what about Amber?”
“Amber will be okay. Amber is always okay. We’ll grab the next train, head to the south side for a while then come back for her. For them. We’ll figure it out.” He smiled, looking as cool and confident as he sounded, then brushed his fingers across her cheek to dry a tear. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
He scanned the station. His gaze froze. He stood as if in a fog and walked to a pillar where a poster was crookedly taped. He ran his fingertips over it from top to bottom. When he turned back to look at her the sadness in his eyes was palpable, his shoulders slouched.
Behind him she saw her own face smiling out from the paper, that stupid frilly white shirt her mother made her wear on picture day buttoned up to her neck, a pink plaid bow tied at the top. Bold red lettering announced she was missing.
No she wasn’t, she was right here.
He leaned his back against the wall next to her, slid down the tile and slumped to the floor, his arms resting on his knees. He breathed hard then exhaled in one long audible sigh. “They really are looking for you.”
“I don’t care.”
He rested the back of his head against the wall and stared at the poster. “They’re going to find you. Take you away from me.”
“No. I won’t let them. I belong with you.” She reached out and took his hand. “I love you, Reese.”
He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised, and gave a subtle shake of his head. “No you don’t. You can’t. No one loves me.” He caressed the top of her hand with his thumb. “They beat me. They fuck me. They use me. They leave me. I am not the kind of guy you love.” He lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, like Prince Charming kisses his beloved princess. “You deserve better than me.” He waved his other hand in a vague gesture in front of him. “Better than this. You definitely don’t belong to this. And I don’t belong anywhere else.” His entire body was limp, like a losing boxer after a hard fight.
She grabbed both of his hands and pulled him to face her. He needed to hear her, needed to understand.
“You’re wrong.” The conviction in her voice got his attention and he looked her in the eye. “I do love you. Amber and Guy love you. Ricki really loved you. And you love all of them. I just don’t think you know those feelings are love.” She stroked his cheek then brushed hair from his forehead. “You are the kind of guy I love. The only one I’ve ever loved. Ever will love.” She squeezed his hands. “Come with me. Come home with me. My family will love you too, I know they will.”
He snorted and shook his head. “Oh, yeah. Your folks would be just thrilled with me. I’m exactly the kind of guy they had in mind for their baby girl. Come on, August. Be real.”
He dropped her hands, his shoulders stooped. He reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a tiny bag of powder. He held it in front of his face with two fingers.
“See this?”
“What is that? Is it heroin?”
He nodded. “This is why I will never belong in your life. I fight every day not to use. I lost that fight for years. I’ve been clean for months and found someone wonderful to be with, but what do I do? I carry this shit around. I finger it every chance I get. Smell it. Think about it constantly. I want it, August. I really want it. I will never be free of it.”
“But you didn’t use it. That proves you are free. Proves you want something else.”
He puffed a quick breath out of his nostrils. “What you want and what you get are very different things.”
“So – you don’t want me?” Her eyes darted around his face, to the heroin and back. She stared into his eyes, her mouth dry, hands quaking. Tears streamed down her face. “Reese. Don’t you love me?”
His face contorted. “Of course I want you.” She had scrubbed his emotions raw, laid him bare. “But I can’t have you.” He put both hands behind her head and kissed her, a voracious, ravenous kiss. As if his whole life depended on that moment. On her.
When they paused to breathe, he rested his forehead against hers and gripped her hands in his lap, the heroin still in one palm, a barrier between them.
“What I said yesterday? I was wrong.” Tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto her hands. “You did save me.” He looked up into her face. “I do love you, August.”
He kissed her again and again. “I love you,” he whispered between each touch of their lips. His tears married hers in their mouths.
Her body quivered, warmth spread through her limbs. His words like the soothing weight of a heavy down comforter, easing the pain of the day’s events. He loved her. Nothing else mattered.
Her hammering heartbeat reverberated in her ears. Her eyes sprung open. The station was vibrating and a train was speeding toward it.
Reese stared at her, his eyes wild and intense like he’d seen something in her face that terrified him. He held her head. “Save yourself, August,” he spoke into her lips. “Go home. Go home.” One more quick kiss and he let her go. He jumped to his feet and ran toward the platform.
“Reese,” she screamed after him
. “Don’t leave me. Reese, come back! Please.” She struggled to get to her feet, adrenaline and fear coursed through her veins and messed with her coordination. She started after him. “Reese, stop!”
He never turned back. The second the train pulled into view, he leaped in front of it, hit the windshield with a sickening sound and fell out of sight.
Her legs buckled and she crumpled to the floor, her knees hitting the hard cement. Her scream was earsplitting. She grabbed her head with both hands but the noise just got louder. She rocked and wailed until there was no sound left to make.
She kneeled on the cold slab and stared at the train, her arms limp at her sides, her body and brain paralyzed.
People passed in front of her in muted slow motion, contorted faces with mouths open wide – voiceless yelling, soundless screaming, silent crying. The vague image of a uniformed man bent over the tracks shining a flashlight down at her lover’s body made the bile rise up in her throat.
His eyes flashed in front of her, like ice on fire, piercing, glinting, alive. Her skin tingled with the touch of his hands and gentle caress of his lips. Through the stench that surrounded her, she could smell nothing but the bliss that was her Reese. Then it all disappeared. And she was empty.
A face appeared in front of her, mouthing words she didn’t hear. Then a voice broke through the deafening silence.
“August? August? Is this you? Are you August Bailey?”
Another uniform. The poster was clutched in the cop’s hand, her other hand on August’s shoulder.
No, that was not her. Not anymore.
She was suddenly aware of her quaking body, her hands like ice. Bystanders in the periphery spoke to other officers, gestured to the train, pointed at her.
The cop holding the poster left, then came back and put a blanket around her shoulders. The woman sat down, a wooden nightstick hit the cement floor with a hollow thud.
“August, did you know that boy?”
She nodded.
“Who was he, hon? What was his name?”
She could barely muster a whisper. “Reese.”
