by Candis Vargo
“Safer, what the hell do you mean by safer? Actually, you’re right. We just might be safer…safer from you!”
Mike ignored her and walked out the door, slamming it shut behind him. How could she not know what he meant by safer? There wasn’t any way she could possibly feel safe…that thing had grabbed her. It nearly sucked the life out of her like it was a sick game of power showing.
He knew that Mia would call her mother. It wouldn’t take her any time at all to get there and ‘rescue’ her. Lord only knows how much shit Steve would say about him, try and convince her to leave him, if he would even stay in the house since Mia was going to take ‘Eli’ along.
As he walked to the shed that sat on the side of the house, he saw the neighbors that lived across the street slowly drive in front of his house in their obnoxiously large RV. They stared at him with repulsive expressions as he opened the shed doors and he raised his middle finger to them, flipping them off.
Mike grabbed his jacket off of his motorcycle and put it on as he jumped on the bike and buckled his matte black helmet. He hadn’t ridden it all summer and since it seemed to be a stress relief for him he figured it to be the perfect opportunity.
For years he had wanted a simple GSXR 600 and when he finally found one where he could make payments on it, he didn’t pass it up. They struggled more than normal to pay the bills as he made payments on the bike but somehow Mia made it work. When he got the bike he wanted to get it painted black. He never got around to getting it done and became accustomed to the fire red it was.
He got on the highway, making his way to the closest Home Depot store around. As he drove down the highway he thought about Tommy saying he was nearly in an accident on that road, so he checked his speed and slowed down. The last thing he wanted was to end up as ground meat on the side of the road, leaving Mia all alone in the world.
Didn’t she remember being physically restrained by this damn thing? And what exactly did she mean safer from him? He hasn’t done anything but try to help her, how could she possibly look at him like he’s crazy. He wasn’t the one imagining shit, she was…right?
By the time he made it to Home Depot, his mind was reeling with thoughts about what had happened. Apparently Father John’s cleansing on the house hadn’t worked and he didn’t know what else that could be done. Surely there had to be something.
He walked through the aisles in the store, making his way to the interior doors, trying to remember what he had read on the internet.
“Can I help you find something?”
Mike nearly jumped as an employee spoke. He glanced down at the bright orange apron that lied across the employee’s torso and saw ‘Todd’ written in a black marker. “Um, yeah. I need one of these,” he leaned his hand on the door he wanted.
“This exact one? Or do you need—”
“No, I need this one. Can you have it delivered?”
“All right,” Todd pulled a pen and small notepad out of his apron. Clicking the pen open he, wrote down the product number. “Follow me and I’ll get you set up with a delivery.”
He gave them his information, and the door wasn’t going to arrive until the following Monday.
Mike went back to his bike, not wanting to go back home yet, he realized he was only an hour from the church where Father John was. He took his helmet off of the seat and put it on, deciding to go back to the church. He needed to see if there was anything else the Father could do…anything. There had to be something. He said himself that he worked God, and God was stronger than the devil…right?
***
As he drove the next hour to the church, he dug in his memory, struggling to find the words from the computer earlier in the day.
A few words flashed in his memory.
Irrational behavior.
Extreme anger.
Possession.
Form of a child.
Earn trust.
Possession.
He knew there was more, but he was unable to move the thought of those words out of the way to search his memory for what he needed.
Mike illegally parked out in front of the church and took his helmet off as he ran to the double doors. He flung the doors open and ran down the aisle.
“Father John,” he yelled. “Father John!”
“Yes, yes. I’m right here.” Father John, who was sitting on the bench in the front row where he had previously sat with Mike stood up, turning to face him.
“It didn’t work,” Mike said frantically. He stopped a few benches in front of Father John and placed a hand on one of the benches to help his body rest. “It didn’t work. Please, something must have gone wrong. Please, you have to do it again.”
Unlike Mike, Father John was calm and collected. “I am truly sorry, my son, but I have done all that I can. The rest of the battle is up to you.”
Mike was confused. “What do you mean the rest of it is up to me? There has to be something you can do to help me. Anything,” he pleaded.
He had never felt so desperate. He had nowhere to turn and he didn’t know how to keep his wife safe. Something inside of him told him that this thing wouldn’t stop until it had either taken the life out of his wife or taken over her.
“There is nothing more I can do...you must find the answers on your own.”
“I don’t want answers,” Mike was now yelling. “I want this thing gone. This thing is pretending to be our son. It…it’s why Mia thinks he’s still alive. Why is it posing as my son? What does it want? It’s going to take her from me, damn it.”
It felt like his head was spinning causing him to get lightheaded and he grabbed his head. He had finally remembered some of the words that he wanted to remember.
‘Cleansing will work if the demon is there by their own choosing. If the demon is under control, it will fail to work.’
‘Under control…’
“It didn’t work. The cleansing didn’t work,” he whispered. Did that mean that if this thing was a demon that it was under control? Under who’s control?
“Is everything okay,” Father John asked as he took a step in Mike’s direction.
Mike thought back to the first time Mia saw this darkness. It was after he had messed with ‘Eli’s’ plate of food. After he met with Kris.
Kris knew the father. She was the one who gave him Father John’s number in the first place. Why would she do that? She’s supposed to be a psychiatrist, why would she give one of her clients a phone number for a damn priest?
Unless he was part of it.
It was them.
Chapter 21
The thoughts swirled in his head…they had to be working together, bringing all of this upon him…upon his wife.
Mike looked up at the father in disbelief, unable to understand how someone could do something so malicious. He looked around the church, wondering if it was one of the buildings listed on that blog.
He looked back at Father John who stood at the center of the end of the aisle. It was all a sick and twisted game to them, it had to be. But his sister, of all people, told him to go to Kris…did that mean she was part of it too?
Father John stood there, all in white, hands clasped together in front of him. As Mike took a good, long look into his face he no longer saw a feeble old man. Instead he saw a twisted wickedness that one could see when looking into the eyes of a serial killer.
Movement in the distance caught his attention. Mike began to tremble and drew in a sharp breath. Darkness grew from both of the corners of the church behind the Father.
“No…no.” Mike slowly began to back up as the darkness grew, spreading the entire width of the church and covering the wall behind Father John.
Father John turned and looked behind him. He returned his eyes to Mike. “There is nothing to be afraid of here, my son. This is a house of God, nothing can hurt you here.”
“Yeah…” Mike said as he continued to back up. “Nice try.” He turned around and ran down the aisle and the darkness began to growl.
Mike ran faster. As fast as his legs could take him.
“Listen to me, son,” Father John yelled across the church. “This demon is yours and yours alone. Only you can’t escape it. You have to let it in.”
The father was lost in the darkness as it started to consume the entire insides of the church. Mike ran out the doors and slammed them shut behind him, knowing he just barely escaped being consumed by the darkness, himself.
He threw his helmet on, not bothering to buckle it, as he jumped on his motorcycle. Slamming it into gear he did a U turn as he drove out of there. He avoided looking into the side mirrors, not wanting to look back. It was like he felt safer not knowing if the darkness was following him, kind of like how a child felt safer from the boogey man if they hid underneath their blankets.
As he neared home he was shaken and distraught. He knew he had to go back to the emptiness he called home. Mia would be at her mother’s by now and he would have to sit there, alone, with the fear of this darkness taking over him…over his life.
The glowing neon lights of a sign in the distance caught his attention. The word ‘liquor’ was spread across it in green, with the ‘O’ constantly flickering.
Temptation won and Mike pulled into the parking lot. After the day he had you’d bet your ass he was going to get some more American Honey. He deserved it, damn it.
As he walked through the small store he was sure he looked like a crack head, constantly looking behind him and possibly even twitching. He grabbed the bottle of American Honey and hurried over to the cashier to pay. The cashier glanced him over twice but to his surprise he didn’t ask for any ID. Mike swiped his card and selected credit. He picked up a pen and as he waited for the receipt to print out so he could sign it he tapped the pen on the counter repetitively.
“Here you go, sir,” the cashier slid the slip over to him.
Mike signed it and dropped the pen before grabbing his bottle. As he walked out the door he the faint voice of the cashier, “Have a good night…freak.”
He opened the bottle before getting back on his motorcycle. After taking a few sips he put the bottle inside of his jacket, taking a chug here and there on his way home whenever he came to a stop. He was never one to drink and ride, and he knew Mia would kill him herself if she found out, but he was at that point in time where he just didn’t give a shit anymore.
***
By the time he had made it home he was already tipsy, but at least it had taken his fear away. Now he was filled with rage.
He thought if he could drink himself into a coma he would finally escape it. He succeeded and passed out on the couch.
Unlike his dreams as of late, this one was far more peaceful. He was standing outside of Eli’s preschool, waiting to pick him up. All of the other parents were gathered around, whispering among themselves. The smell of lavender filled the air as the warm sunshine shone down on him on a beautiful spring day.
The school’s glass doors opened from in between the walls of brick and as Eli emerged from them, everyone else around him disappeared. Mike knelt down with his arms out, waiting to embrace his son. Eli ran into them, arms open, ready to give his daddy the hug he longed for.
Mike held on to Eli, not wanting to let go.
“I love you, daddy,” Eli said.
Mike pulled back from the hug slightly, just enough to look Eli in his eyes. Oh, how he missed the depth of those deep brown eyes.
“I love you too, Eli. I love you so much.”
“Daddy…”
“Yes, Eli.”
“You have to stop running, daddy.”
Mike narrowed his eyes at him in confusion. “Stop running from what, Eli?”
“From the darkness.”
Mike had almost forgotten about the darkness. Almost. What did Eli mean, he had to stop running? Why would his son want him to be consumed by a demonic force?
Unless…
“Stop running, daddy…stop running.”
As Eli spoke his words began to get distorted, becoming deeper and his voice less recognizable.
“Stop running….Stop…stop running daddy. Don’t you love me, daddy? Mommy loves me.”
Mike backed away and looked down at his son, but it wasn’t his son anymore.
Eli’s face was becoming as distorted as his voice, becoming one that was no longer his own. As the features of his face began to run together like mixing paints, a darkness began to take his place.
“No, No…Not you. Not my Eli,” Mike begged as he fell to his knees, sobbing.
“Mommy loves me, daddy,” this demonic voice spoke. “Don’t you love me, daddy.”
The darkness closed in on Mike and he screamed at the top of his lungs, waking himself up from his dream. As soon as his eyes opened he sat right up, realizing he was still screaming.
He stopped screaming and caught his breath. He grabbed the bottle of American Honey that sat next to him and started drinking some more.
He didn’t want to sleep so he cranked up some music, grateful that the only neighbors that was close enough to have been able to hear it were gone in their RV.
Mike walked around the house drinking his liquor and jamming to Theory of a Dead Man. The more he tried not to think about the dream, the more he couldn’t help it. It was all he could think about.
Was it possible for someone’s dream to actually mean something? Could the darkness have caused the accident…could it have been the reason Eli was taken from them?
His anger grew within him, a rage that he hadn’t felt before. He stood in front of the living room window, looking out at his neighbor’s house.
Old fuckers.
The thoughts of his dream were replaced with the thoughts of his neighbors. He stood there, chugging his bottle, envious of them. He figured they had everything handed to them, that they have never had to worry about anything. They just lived their meaningless lives in that big ass house and enjoying all of their luxury things.
They never had to worry about how to put food on the table. He laughed to himself. He’d bet that they’ve never been so bad on money and food that when they accidentally hit a deer, that they got out, grabbed the dead thing, and brought it home to feed their family.
They’ve never ate fucking road kill.
They’ve never had to explain to people why they didn’t qualify for any help from the state, he swore the state had something against married people. He knew a family of five surviving on unemployment and they got a mere thirty dollars to help with food every month.
Fuck the state. And fuck his neighbors. How nice it must be to have mommy and daddy paying for everything, there for every time you needed something or hell, wanted something.
No, he worked for everything he’s ever had. He’s busted his balls just to make ends meet, to buy used things, used clothes, and used shoes. But at least he earned everything he got…at least he deserved it. But them…they didn’t deserve it. And they sure as hell didn’t deserve their fancy ass car they bragged to the entire damn county about…just as he didn’t deserve to bury his son.
A seventy four thousand dollar SUV…who the hell in their right mind pays that much for a vehicle, even if it is a ‘smart car’? That car cost more than his damn broken down, beat up house.
Mike took another swig out of the bottle before he set it down on the coffee table and wiped his mouth with the arm of his long sleeved flannel. He walked out to his car, opened the trunk and pulled out a tire iron.
In his drunken rage he stumbled over to the neighbor’s house. He wrapped his hand inside his sleeve and opened the garage door. Nothing ever happened in that county, so he knew they didn’t have security cameras, but that wouldn’t keep their good for nothing police officers from looking for fingerprints.
After walking around the shiny silver SUV several times, he placed both hands on the tire iron and started slamming it against the vehicle and the alarm went off.
Bam.
Bam.
Bam.
<
br /> He pounded the vehicle with the tire iron, the alarm only agitating him further. He didn’t care that the alarm was going off, there weren’t any more neighbors for quite a ways but it also wasn’t too uncommon for damn deer to find a way to set off alarms around here.
He hit every window several times until they shattered underneath his power. He continued hitting the BMW, anger rose through his throat and he grunted with rage with each thrust he made.
When he decided the BMW had finally had enough, he figured that he had absolutely no problem adding insult to injury. He unzipped his pants and proceeded to relieve himself through the holes where the glass once was. He had enough alcohol running through him and he pissed all over the interior of the vehicle, laughing as he did so.
Chapter 22
Finally, he felt satisfied with what he had done and leisurely made his way back over to his car. He threw the tire iron back in the trunk and slammed it shut.
He knew he was screwed if the cops showed up and started asking questions, so he got in his car and drove off, constantly blinking to not only keep himself awake but to try to avoid driving all over the road. When he was a few miles away from his house and not a building in sight, he tried to think of who he would be able to call to help cover for him and one friend in particular was on his mind, the only idiot that would still be awake at that time of the night.
Mike called up Anthony and he answered on the second ring. “Dude, are you feeling all right? Shouldn’t your old ass be in bed by now?”
“Screw you too.” Mike's words were partially slurred and he heard Anthony chuckle. “Listen, man. I may have gotten myself into some trouble and might possibly need an alibi…as well as a place to go for the night.
Anthony struggled to talk through his laughter, “Dude, are you sure you’re up to driving? Sounds like you may have had a little too much, I can come get you if you want?”
“Nah, nah, it’s all good. I’m good, I got this. So is it cool?”
