“Be yourself?” I scoffed. “Do you even know what that is?”
“Do you?” he probed pointedly. “Who are you, Sarah? That is why I am here… why I have continued to seek you.”
I am Ava!
“What are you talking about?” My heart accelerated, beating painfully against my ribs. Did he suspect what Laith and Elisa had guessed. “You’re the secretive one. You know who I am.”
“No, I can’t seem to figure it out. You keep yourself so guarded. This is the only place you’ve let me in. Why is that?”
“You don’t make any sense. Even if I could, even if I knew what you were talking about, what would that do?”
“Let me see you.”
“You see me!” I yelled.
“You really don’t know, do you?” His accent was heavy with unbelief. “Then something has been taken from you or kept secret, and you don’t even have a clue.”
The truth has been hidden from you.
My breathing grew heavy as I recognized Ian’s words again in Jonathan’s pronouncement. Jonathan watched me, reading my every expression. The corner of his lips twitched when he realized he had struck a chord, and he took the advantage.
“You desire answers as well; I see this in you. I can tell you anything you want to know, give you answers to anything you seek.” His voice was a lover’s caress. “Do you want to know who I am? I can show you.”
Some part of me stirred, triggered by his invitation.
Isn’t this what I had wanted to know? Isn’t this what I had been trying to figure out from the moment I met him? Even as I thought about the possibility, I liked the idea more and more, but my logical side cried out in fear, warning me.
I shook my head. I was tired of being afraid. If I could find answers to my questions, then I should try.
“Yes,” I replied.
Slowly Jonathan reached out his hand in the same fashion he had once done in real life, to take mine. I expected the same involuntary reaction, the same step backward, that I had come to anticipate; but it didn’t happen, and his fingertips brushed against my own.
I froze from complete shock: he was touching me. Curiosity flowed, as did the heat that poured from his fingers into mine, coursing its way up my arm and chest. Unnaturally intense pleasure pushed itself onto me. I was unsure if I should savor the feeling or loathe it, but immediately following the initial exhilaration, sickness coursed ice-cold through my veins, and pain quickly followed.
What have I done?
Panic swelled as I realized too late that I was playing with something too evil for my understanding. I tried to take a step back, but my legs would not listen. The darkness enclosed me, filling my soul with the blackness of his, infiltrating every inch of my body until my breath was not my own. A smoke-filled vapor whirled around me, bathing me in its filth, assaulting my nostrils with its stench.
As I tried to pull away a second time, he fought me, causing a stream of blank, unrecognizable faces to fill my mind. As their features came into focus, I saw their fear and felt their pain. My skin crawled with the realization that these were souls taken before their time and I had not protected them as I should have.
“Such an interesting sensation from you—one I have never experienced from anyone else. It’s almost… unreal.” He purred. “No wonder they wanted to protect you so desperately.”
He stepped forward and leaned his face toward me. I could feel his hot breath on my ear and cheek. It sent shivers down my spine. I heard the smile in his whisper. “I told you all I needed was time.”
Suddenly a face appeared in my mind, one that I did recognize, breaking my trance.
“Ian!”
My eyes snapped open. Jonathan’s face was poised a mere two inches from mine, his gaze revealing more than just excitement. The liquid black pupils danced in the pure pleasure of a long-anticipated victory. A triumph that went past anything I was able to understand. Jonathan leaned in closer.
“You killed Ian,” I said breathlessly as the shadows slowly receded.
“What?” Jonathan’s stopped. His face twitched. “What did you see?”
If there was a reason Jonathan was still in my life, then there had to be a reason why he had been involved in the car accident with Ian.
“Why did you kill Ian?”
Jonathan’s smile dissolved. “You wanted to know more, didn’t you? I can’t control what you see.”
“Why did you have to kill him?” I asked again, barely suppressing my rage.
As he examined me, hesitation touched his brow.
“Why did you have to kill Ian?” Anger shook through my body as I yelled and finally Jonathan was provoked enough to answer.
His lips lifted into a smirk. “Maybe it had nothing to do with him… or Benjamin.” He breathed against my skin, his lips near mine.
I pushed against him, stronger than I was before. “Then what?” I spoke through clenched teeth, my nails digging into my hands. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to.
Unexpectedly Jonathan’s touch became violent. He grabbed my arms painfully by the wrist, jerking me awake.
Cheryl was up and dressed right after seven that morning. She came in just as I finished scrubbing the kitchen floor on my hands and knees and stood watching me, a multitude of questions written clearly on her face.
She seemed to choose the easiest one to ask. “When did you get home?”
“A little while ago.” I grunted as I rose to my feet, looking at the finished product.
“I see.” She took a moment to gaze around the kitchen and family room. “So you came home early from camping and decided to… clean?”
I took the rag to the sink and washed it out. “I guess being out in the middle of nowhere made me appreciate the comforts of a good clean home.” I smiled, hoping she believed me, then started wiping down the refrigerator.
“You showered already?”
“Yes.”
“I like the braid,” she said
I fingered my hair with a vague sense of displeasure. “Thank you.”
“Are things okay between you and your friends?” Cheryl asked, her question filled with concern. “I’m supposed to spend the day with my sister, but I can cancel or go a little later. Do you need to talk about something?”
I turned. Cheryl was more of a mother to me than I had ever had. My heart was filled with gratitude to this woman who never judged me and always made me feel loved, but this was not something I could share with her.
“Everything’s fine.” I smiled, trying to look as if I meant it, but it didn’t fool her.
“I’ll be back tonight after dinner. Will you talk to me then?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, but I’d love to catch up with you,” I lied.
After cleaning the house, I still felt dirty. I couldn’t get rid of the pale sick faces that Jonathan had showed me in the dream, nor the unexplainable terror I knew they had felt before they died. I had to do something else.
I stripped off my clothes, fighting the desire to burn them. I kicked them to the corner of the bathroom. Trying to remove the smoke-thick film of filth I knew was still there on my skin, I scrubbed every inch of me in hot shower water until it ran cold. I then washed out the braid. As I combed and dried my hair straight, I realized I still hadn’t put back on my mother’s necklace. I almost ran to my jewelry box where I had laid it. A much-desired calm washed over me as I clasped it around my neck. I grasped it in my palm, savoring the cool feel of the black stone.
I would never take it off again.
The angst I had felt withdrew, leaving me able to breathe at last. Taking a long, deep breath, I realized something gravely important. I needed help. There was no getting past that simple fact any longer. Not after what my friends had told me. Not after last night—the thing in the forest, in my dreams. Even if I felt I could physically defend myself, I couldn’t protect against the unknown, and try as I might, I couldn’t avoid sleep forever, no matter how many energ
y drinks I consumed.
I got out my phone and sent a message to Elisa.
Can we talk?
As I hit the send button, my stomach let out a deep growl. I pressed against my belly, trying to ignore the growing need for food.
After several minutes I still hadn’t heard from Elisa. I slipped my phone into my bag realizing they were probably still asleep. Hunger surged. It felt as if I hadn’t eaten in ages. I lifted my hand watching it shake—the result of no sleep and high caffeine. Making a quick judgement call, I drove to a small family-owned restaurant a couple miles away.
A kind-looking host and server greeted me at the door.
“Good morning. How many?” he asked, glancing casually behind me.
“Just me today. Do you have anything out of the way, perhaps on the patio?” I didn’t want to be alone, but I also didn’t want an audience.
I followed him out onto the enclosure. A small white picket fence separated the rest of the sidewalk and occupants of the plaza. Before leaving, the man clicked on a portable heater and maneuvered it over to my table.
“There, that should keep you warm,” he nodded, satisfied. “That and a coffee, perhaps?”
“Hmm…” The thought of adding artificial sweetener to a bitter cup of anything hit too close to home, even if it was a weak parallel. I shook my head, thinking of Elisa’s favorite drink. “How about hot chocolate and some chocolate-chip pancakes?”
The man’s kind eyes twinkled. “Sounds like a perfect combination. I’ll be right out with your drink.”
A few minutes later I sat snuggled in my jacket, enjoying the warmth of a hot mug and toasty patio heater. A clear blue morning sky allowed my gaze to get lost in its flawless atmosphere.
A mild breeze blew gently against my hair. I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh of relief. As if catching my scent, the wind suddenly picked up a notch, violently blowing through the court, hooking several strands of my hair and casting them blindingly into my face. A sharp, almost painful shiver went down my spine, causing me to sit up straight. I hastily moved my hair out of my face and looked into the direction the wind was coming.
From across the parking lot I saw a figure approach: black polo shirt, tucked into a black sleek pair of pants, down to his black shoes. His expression set into an offensive stare; Jonathan was preparing to attack, and I immediately knew who his target was. My pendant reacted to his aggressive approach. He walked straight up to the fenced-in patio, and with the grace of an athlete, simply hopped over the railing and came to stand over my table. He appeared calm, but something entirely different brewed just beneath the surface.
“What a coincidence. Do you mind if I join you?” He roughly kicked aside one of the chairs and slid smoothly into the seat opposite me.
I felt the uncontrollable need to flee, to get as far away from him as possible, but instead, I sat my cup on the table and met his challenge. “I don’t believe I said yes.”
“I wasn’t really asking,” he said, his eyes tightened into slits. “So this is what it’s going to be like, is it?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I gazed down at my hands.
“Did you think it would be that simple?” he asked. “How naïve of you.”
I leaned one elbow against the arm of my chair and looked up from underneath my lashes. My voice was a monotone. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, please.” His nose wrinkled in disgust. “Don’t act so stupid, and don’t pretend any differently. I’m no fool.” No louder than a whisper, his words hissed out with such force and hostility that my insides quaked.
When had I become such a coward? I shifted in my chair so that my physical response wouldn’t be noticed. “No, you’re not a fool—”
“Then what am I?” he interrupted.
He was just like the rest of them, that’s what he was. Degenerates, criminals from the same ilk of lowlifes that would kidnap an innocent child, light a house on fire, attack when their prey was vulnerable—they were the cowards. All of them.
“I think you need to leave, Jonathan.”
“Don’t!” His voice whipped, sharp and loud, his face turning a dark shade of red. He had halfway risen out of his seat. Both hands gripped the arms of his chair for support, making the entire frame vibrate underneath his grasp.
It took effort to sit still, but I managed to do so, hiding my shaking hands beneath the table. Jonathan swallowed hard, struggling to master his temper. When he did finally speak, his words were articulate and forcefully soft.
“Don’t make me angry, Sarah,” he said quietly. “That is not something you want to see.”
He slowly lowered himself down, then dramatically slumped into his chair. He stretched one long, lean leg out and to the side, feigning casualness.
But what he didn’t realize was that, if I was correct—if he was what I thought he was—then I had already faced him before, or another version of him, in a parking lot. And I had won. I leaned over the table toward him, my own knowledge giving me the confidence I needed. “I know what you are.”
“Do you?” His body jerked upright. He inclined toward me, our faces only a foot apart. “Be careful, Sarah. Once you say it—once it’s out there—you can’t put it back. Do you really want to do that?”
There were few occasions, in dreams or reality, when I could tell that there was some facet of truth behind Jonathan’s words. This was one of those times. My heart beat heavily, and my body reacted quickly.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “You’re right.”
I pushed back my chair; its legs screeched against the concrete floor beneath it. I grabbed my bag, left a twenty-dollar bill on the table, and walked towards the exit. I needed to get to Laith and Elisa. I saw Jonathan smile as I left.
“Where are you going, Sarah?” he asked.
I didn’t answer. I could hear another chair being pushed back as I made my way toward the car. I lengthened my stride to quicken my escape. I ran the last few yards to my car and opened the door.
“Wait.” An arm reached out in front of me as he pushed the car door shut. I turned to look at him.
“What do you want?” I whimpered, sounding weak and pathetic.
“You,” he growled, leaning into me. “I want you, Sarah.”
My insides lurched. That’s what he was after; it’s what he’d been after from the beginning.
“Let me have you, Sarah, and let me show you what you could have in return.”
He didn’t wait for a response and my will was failing. I felt his fingers, burning hot to the touch, brush my hand. My mother’s stone reacted in opposition, turning painfully cold. I gasped in response to both sensations.
This was nothing like my dreams. His touch was not only different; it was excruciating—for him as well as for me. His face contorted in an awful manner, but his fingers persisted in their efforts and they traced a fiery path up my arm.
“Why must you make this so difficult?” he growled as beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He reached out to brace himself on the side of my car. My breathing became quick and shallow.
Stop. My head jerked, but Jonathan wasn’t paying attention to me any longer. He bit his lip as he willed his hand to continue in its path. The voice within my head started to grow louder and louder, trying to force its way out of my mouth. No.
“No!”
The rejection that issued its way from the depths of my soul pushed Jonathan’s body flying several yards back and away from me. He landed in a low crouch, managing to stay upright. I knew my own shocked expression mirrored his, but I had no time to figure out what had just happened.
I found the handle of my car door. He watched me as I slowly made my way into the car, his expression turning hard and statue-like. I slid in, shut the car door behind me, and hit the automatic locks. That didn’t go unnoticed.
“Do you really think locks can stop me, Sarah?” I heard his muffled words through the window, but he did nothing to prevent me from leaving. He
just stood there watching my every movement.
I fumbled with my keys. It took me three tries before I was able to put the stupid things into the ignition. Finally, my car roared to life, and I hit the gas. The tires squealed, and I spun out, frantic to distance myself from whatever it was that had just touched me.
How could I have ever been attracted to that? How could I have allowed him to get near me?
I couldn’t go home; what if he were to follow me there? Driving without direction, I tried to think. My bag had been tossed on the passenger seat, my cell phone spilled halfway out. I grabbed it and automatically dialed the first number that always popped into my mind. The call went straight to Dad’s voicemail.
“Dad? Dad it’s me. Something’s happened and… I’m scared, Dad. I don’t know what’s going on. Please call. I…” A large crowd of people caught my attention as they milled around a taped off section of a library parking lot. A public library! “Just call me.”
What looked like an arts and crafts show was bringing in a lot of foot traffic from the local public. The library, generally closed during this time, was open early due to the event, the contents of which continued inside the building.
I careened into the library parking lot, earning a few piercing glances from shoppers. I slowed down and found an empty place. I jumped out of my car and shoved my cell phone into my back pocket. Leaving my bag behind, I walked towards the library. My heart suddenly stopped. Jonathan was standing three cars away from me, leaning against a red two-door mustang.
I ran the rest of the way to the building but paused as I entered through the sliding glass doors. More crafts, paintings, and self-made jewelry lined the entryway on plastic foldable tables and continued all the way through to the kid’s section. As I scanned the crowd, my heart sank. I had just led a very powerful, very dark being to a place filled mostly with women and children.
My dad’s voice took the opportunity to chime in.
What do your instincts tell you?
I roughly ran my fingers through my hair, pulling hard at the back of my head. “Obviously those aren’t working right know!” I answered my subconscious father aloud through clenched teeth, earning additional pointed looks from the nearby group of exhibitors. I blushed crimson, cursing the stupidity of my actions. All of them. I turned sharply on my heel, but Jonathan was already walking toward the entrance.
Personal Demons Page 19
