Personal Demons

by Rachel A. Collett

  2

  Special Invitation

  I slipped off my new black dress, put on my pajamas, and crawled under my covers. Although exhausted, I didn’t sleep.

  What is your name? I reflected over Aaron’s question, unsure why it bothered me.

  I’d always known I wasn’t normal but couldn’t figure out why. My mother died when I was an infant, and my father had raised me alone. He was my only friend, never living anywhere long enough to establish any real ones. Sometimes I hated him for it.

  Who am I? I shook my head, annoyed with my trivial train of thought.

  All of my life I observed distantly through cold windows of each new house that those on the outside had people they belonged to, loved ones who made them feel special. I longed to feel that same connection. Ian not only became my very first best friend, but he helped fill a void, a loneliness I had known my entire life.

  Then he died. Was this the reason my dad never let me get too close to anyone, because once you lose them, you’re never the same? Would I ever be the same? My father never was.

  A thought came to my mind, and I went to my closet for the small box of pictures I had started to collect over the past few months. I pulled it down a little too fast, causing another box to come crashing onto my head. Tears welled from the pain, but I refrained from yelling out and instead kicked the box aside.

  I dumped the pictures on the ground and sifted through the pile, selecting a random print. I moved to my bed and positioned myself in front of the photo of Ian. Sliding his ring from off my chain, I placed it on the picture.

  “So you know.” I shook my head. “By now you have to know.” I babbled through an annoying wash of tears I had never intended to cry. “It wasn’t meant to happen this way, Ian. I did love you, but not the way you deserved. I shouldn’t have said I would think about it when you proposed, but how could I have said no to you?”

  I angrily wiped away the tears, growling through my frustration. I grasped my pendant, needing its strength. “You were the first person to ever love me and I was so lonely, Ian. But it was wrong and I knew it and I would have told you, but…” But he had died before I could. “You deserved someone so much better than me.”

  I wanted to be punished for my cowardice, for not letting him know sooner before he thought to propose, but Ian would have understood. He would have been my very best friend for the rest of my life if that was all I wanted, but now he was gone. My best friend was dead. Exhaustion rushed over me like a wave, and I fell over onto my side.

  I woke as sunlight flecked with glimmering dust streamed in through the window. In awe of its beauty, I stretched out my hand, allowing the light to play upon my cold skin. A flash caught my attention as something sparkled even brighter than the sun’s rays. I slid the solitaire ring, so beautiful and pure, back onto my chain. It clinked against my mother’s pendant, so different from its new neighbor. I ran my finger across the inky, black stone.

  For the longest time I used to think my mom was a guardian angel that watched over me. When I found her pendant, it solidified that thought even more as it seemed to sense my moods and know when I was in danger. It may have only been a figment of my imagination, but I didn’t care. I needed her and would take what I could even it if wasn’t real.

  I gathered the two tokens into my palm. How different they were, but yet the same. Both were from people who had loved me, both of whom were taken from me. Now they would both be my guardian angels.

  I didn’t wait until the water was warm. I stood under the shower head and turned on the faucet. I almost screamed, but instead minimized my reaction to obscene language, cursing something foul to whatever shower god was listening. A shock wave pulsed through my head. My breath came in shallow gasps. The icy waterfall was sharpened needles upon my skin, and I placed my hands to either side of the stall to brace against the desire to move. Then the water grew hot, and every particle of my body welcomed it. I stood breathing through the downpour.

  After pulling my hair into a wet bun, ignoring the large purpled mass on my forehead, I waited until I heard my dad leave for work before making my escape to Cheryl’s.

  I walked to her front door and automatically placed my hand on the knob, but then froze. Just six days ago I would have entered without a thought, but Ian was not here anymore. I released the handle and pressed the doorbell. An unfamiliar tone reverberated throughout the house, followed by footsteps. The door opened, Cheryl’s silhouette appeared through the screen.

  “Sarah? Since when have you ever rang the doorbell?” She opened the screen door and ushered me inside. “As far as I’m concerned you have always been a part of my family; that has not changed. I wasn’t expecting you until the afternoon. Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

  I shrugged. Cheryl frowned but let the subject drop. “Sit down,” she said, leading me toward the living room. She settled onto the couch and folded her legs underneath her. “So, I’ll just get to the point. The reason I asked you here is because…” She fidgeted nervously with the fringe of one of the couch cushions and then threw it aside. “I want someone here, with me. I haven’t been alone in years, and I don’t think I can be now. I can’t stop thinking about Ian. I can’t stop thinking about my son and how I outlived him, and I—”

  “Yes,” I cut her off.

  She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I know that you are not going to be able to stay here forever. I just need someone to help me as I—transition.”

  I nodded my understanding.

  “There’s one more thing. I’ve been talking to Judi Bradshaw, Benjamin’s mother.” My confusion must have been apparent because she went on to clarify, “Ian’s friend in the car.” My stomach twisted painfully. “I’ve kept in contact with his mom. Ben’s in pretty bad shape, and she’s desperate to get here.”

  “Then what’s stopping her?” I asked.

  “They’re a military family, and they just moved bases. Her husband and son are deployed at two separate locations oversees. Judi has four little ones; the youngest is just five and because their move was so recent, she doesn’t have anyone who can watch all of her children.”

  My heart ached with the desire of belonging to a family that large. “So what does she need?” I asked, trying to get to the point.

  “I have volunteered to look after Ben while she waits for her husband to take her place. I know it’s what Ian would want, and I was hoping you’d help me.”

  My mind raced, slightly panicked. The thought of being back at the hospital with a dying stranger made me terribly uneasy. But Cheryl was right. If Ian were here, he would already be there watching over his friend, whether or not Ian was involved in the crash.

  “When do you need me?”

  She smiled at my willingness to help, unaware of the internal dread that filled me.

  I didn’t own any furniture, and packing—a talent my dad had taught me long ago—never took long. The garage door groaned open just as I set my suitcase to the side of the room. Moments later, someone tapped lightly on my door.

  “Sarah? Are you there?” The hinge creaked as he poked his head into the room. “Are you in bed already? Did you even eat?” he asked, a bit of worry marring his words.

  “No, and I’m not really hungry. I’m just tired, but… we need to talk, Dad.”

  He hesitated before responding. “I picked up pizza. Will you try to eat a few bites?”

  I followed him into the kitchen, his large frame filling most of the small hallway, and I huffed a silent laugh. It always amazed me how big my dad was, and strong. Other dads might let themselves go as they aged. But of course, they were normal. Even at forty, he looked incredibly young. Nowhere near old enough to have a nineteen-year-old daughter.

  On my birthday, almost a year ago my dad announced we would be relocating again, but this time I fought back. I was an adult, and I wanted a life—a real one. Tired of only online courses, I would move one more time, but it would be somewhere with a four-yea
r college where I could graduate with a degree of my choosing. At first he refused, but when I threatened to do it on my own, he reconsidered. A week later we moved to Arizona where I could attend Arizona State University.

  It was there that I had met Ian.

  Just as we passed the dining table he turned on me. “Sarah, we’re moving.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve accepted a new job. Your semester will be done soon—”

  “No, Dad.”

  “We’ll move to a rental on the other side of Phoenix until your classes end and then we’re gone. That’s final.”

  My fist came down hard on the table. “I’m not moving. I can’t. I won’t.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Ian. Is. Dead.” My breath went out in a whoosh. “There is nothing for you here. We are leaving.”

  In an effort to control the hateful moisture building in my eyes, I forced myself to look away. “I’m moving in with Cheryl,” I said.

  “No, you’re not.” My dad’s words came out in a growl, a warning.

  “Yes, I am.” I turned to face him and did my best to ignore the alarming shade of red building in his face as well as the anger raging in my mind. “I’m not leaving, Dad.”

  “Go to your room!”

  “No!” I screamed, shocked by the power of my own voice. “I have friends here, people who care about me. I finally have a semblance of a life, and I won’t let you take that away!”

  “Sarah!” His voice shook through the house, and I instinctively jumped, hitting a chair behind me, causing it to fall over.

  “I am your father. I am your only friend and the only friend you will ever have!” He took a step closer, jabbing a finger hard at his chest. “I am your guardian, and you are my responsibility and only my responsibility.”

  “I don’t need a guardian, Dad!” My body shook. I had never been so afraid of him.

  “Yes you do, damn it!” he bellowed, slamming both hands on the countertop. “And I am the only one that can do it! I am the only one who can keep you safe.”

  “Dad!” My heart broke in two. “Daddy, please!”

  He froze watching as a tear fell down my cheek, his expression twisting in anguish. I crossed the room and buried my face in his shoulder. My head felt like it was going to explode.

  “Dad,” I breathed into his shirt. I looked up into his wild eyes and placed both of my hands on either side of his face, forcing him to see me. “Don’t do this. I can’t leave again.”

  “It’s not safe.” His gaze looked so far away, so lost. “I have to keep you safe.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” I soothed. “Everything is fine. Is this—is this about her?”

  He shook his head. Taking my hands in his, he pulled my fingers away from his face, holding them in his grip.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have let you go to the funeral today. Is this about mom?”

  When he didn’t answer I tried to pry my hands from his control. He released them when he recognized my efforts. “I’m going to be okay.” I hastily wiped away my tears. “You’ve always taken good care of me, and I love you, but we don’t need to move.”

  “You don’t get it.” He moved to the kitchen window and leaned on the sink for support.

  “What don’t I get?”

  He wouldn’t answer. I followed the direction of his unblinking gaze. A large, black punching bag hung just outside the window on an attached support beam.

  Dad was a boxer, among other things. He wasn’t one to open up when he was bothered, but boxing calmed him, made him happy, and he loved to teach me. For as long as I could remember, he would have me practice my boxing as he made dinner, watching my jabs and kicks, calling out instructions from the opened window. I loved sparring with him.

  “Come on, Dad.” I nudged him on the shoulder, and he finally looked at me. “Come spar with me.” I tried to smile, but it cracked against dry lips. “Or come throw the football with me. That’s always nice. It’s been a hard couple of days… for both of us.”

  He shook his head and closed his eyes.

  “Please talk to me,” I begged, but he didn’t answer. “Dad, if you really feel like you need to go, that’s okay. I can stay here. Cheryl is alone now that Ian is gone, and she needs help. She needs support, and I can give her that support. I will be safe at her house. She is a really good person, and I just know you would love her if you got to know her.”

  Dad’s eyes flew open. “You’re right,” he breathed. “You’ll be safe with Cheryl, but keep your address, all of your bills, with me. Don’t let anyone know you’ve moved in with her.”

  “But why?”

  “Just do it!” he snapped, then grimaced as he made a visual effort to calm himself. “Just do that for me, alright? You are my daughter and I will continue to support you through school. But I need to leave to…” He stopped again, staring hard into my face. “I think you’re right. The funeral was difficult for me. I should get out of here for a little bit, maybe just a couple of weeks, but I want you to promise me that you’ll either call or text every day.”

  My hand instinctively went to the pendant hiding just under my blouse. Dad had always taught me to follow my intuition, to listen to my gut, and my gut was screaming that there was something else to this—something important that I needed to know. But I also realized, with growing excitement, that I had won. He was giving me what I wanted and was allowing me to stay.

  “I promise.”

  3

  On Call

  My throat swelled with anxiety as I walked the hallways of the hospital with my books and aromatic bag of takeout. I arrived at the nursing station, but no one was there to direct me.

  How do you take care of someone in a coma anyways?

  After debating with myself through most of my Tuesday morning lectures, I’d made the decision to bring along my school work and some of my favorite novels to read aloud. I figured that would be a decent enough conversation filler since I really didn’t know Benjamin Bradshaw at all.

  I glanced around the corner, looking for anyone dressed in scrubs, but the only person in the area was a man with jet-black hair sitting in a chair in the far corner of the waiting room.

  I studied the man, shocked when I realized he was familiar to me, although I couldn’t quite place his face. He was exceptionally handsome with dark eyes and thick lashes visible even from where I stood. I took a moment to appreciate his strong jaw line, high cheek bones, and remarkably straight nose. Sitting rigid in his chair, he looked so upset that my heart went out to him. I immediately felt for the loved one he must be there for.

  I made a movement back toward the front counter and the man registered my presence. His head jerked as he zeroed in on me. Shock came into his eyes and his face twisted into an unpleasant scowl, giving me the strange impression that he had found something distinctly repulsive about me. My pendant grew cold against my skin and I stopped dead in my tracks, realizing why I recognized him.

  My pulse quickened, the knot on my head exploding into painful throbs. He was the man from the emergency room. Automatically, I pressed a palm to my forehead as he continued to stare. Then slowly, he stood, his mouth opening as if to speak. But I didn’t wait around. I bolted like the coward I was, running into a nurse in pink scrubs. My books tumbled to the ground.

  “Be careful,” she warned, reaching out a hand to steady me. “Are you okay?”

  When I looked again, the man was gone.

  Without waiting for an answer, the nurse stooped to pick up the novels that had fallen to the ground. “Are you Sarah? Cheryl told me to watch out for you.” Handing the books back to me, she pointed to a room. “She’s right over there.”

  I scanned the waiting room again, but there was no sign of the monster that had let me fall. With heart racing, I walked to where Cheryl waited.

  Ian’s friend Benjamin lay wrapped in gauze, small tufts of sandy-blonde hair shooting out from the bandages in different directions. Tubes and wi
res snaked around his body; an IV bit into his arm. I shuddered.

  Cheryl sat in a chair on the other side of the room, next to Benjamin. “Believe it or not, he actually looks better than he did yesterday.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” I asked, swallowing hard to control the rising anxiety.

  She crossed her arms, the corners of her mouth pulling down. “Well, he has a lacerated liver, three broken ribs, a punctured lung, a fractured skull—”

  “Okay. Please stop.” I waved my hands out in front of me to get her attention before I retched. Even before she mentioned the lacerated liver, my tolerance level had been breached.

  “What’s important is that he’s alive,” she finished.

  I nodded in agreement, but couldn’t bring myself to ask for any more information.

  “I brought you sweet-and-sour pork,” I said blankly, handing her the lunch and taking the chair next to her. My mind went back to the man with the black eyes. “Do you know who that guy in the waiting room is?”

  “Who?” she asked, not really paying attention to anything except her food. “Oh, his name is Jonathan. He was the other person in the accident.”

  “Are you serious?” My voice rose an octave.

  “Yes, yes I know, dear, but he seems very nice.”

  I thought about telling her just why he was not a nice man, but immediately dismissed it. It was bad enough that I had drawn attention by fainting that day in the hospital. I didn’t need to add any more unnecessary drama to it.

  “Listen, Sarah.” Cheryl paused, looking uncomfortable. “I got a call from the police department today. They’ve determined that the accident was Ian’s fault.”