Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller)

by J. R. Tate

  Again they pull, and this time I slide across the floor. I try hard to grab onto anything to give me an advantage, but there’s nothing available and I’m out of reach to grab onto the bed. As I slip toward the hallway, I know the doorway is coming, and my body slams hard into the frame. It’s enough force to make whatever had hold of me let go. The pain is unbearable and I feel my consciousness waiver. Where are they trying to take me? To hell?

  I gather up as much energy as I can and try to crawl back into the room, but my body fails me. It’s been through so much in the past few days that it’s about ready to quit for good. I rest my head on the cold floor and close my eyes, hoping –praying- that whatever was here is gone now and will leave me alone.

  Tears sting the corners of my eyes and I continue to hold onto the doorframe for safe measure. “What do you want from me?” I yell out, but this time, no voices speak. No hand grabs me. Instead, my vision goes black and stays that way.

  ***

  “Nathan?”

  The voice is distant, but isn’t like the ones I’ve heard before. It takes me a second to recognize who it is, but my eyes fly open when I realize it’s my father. Everything is so blurry that I’m not sure it’s really him. I just see someone hovering over me and that the light is like nails through my skull.

  “Nathan? What in the hell?”

  I feel his hand on my arm and I jerk away from him. It gives me sudden flashbacks of the hand on my leg and it makes my skin crawl. I try to move but the pulse in my head hurts with every beat and I wince as it shoots down my neck.

  “Son, I’m here for you. What happened?”

  He’s here for me? Is that really him? I can’t remember a time that he’s ever said that to me. I blink a few times and things finally start to clear up. I can see him better and he kneels beside me, a genuine look of concern on his face.

  “Please talk to me, Nathan.”

  I can only imagine what I look like strung out on the floor. How the hell am I going to explain this without looking even crazier?

  “I’m fine.” I prop myself up on my elbows but I know he doesn’t believe me. Hell, I don’t even believe me.

  “What happened?”

  Again he touches my arm and I yank away, regretting the sudden movement. “Like you’d believe me anyway.”

  He stands up and paces behind me. I know he’s looking around the room to get some answers. I am finally able to get to a sitting position and turn to watch as he analyzes the situation. I’m not even sure how to lie.

  “By what I walked in on, my first assumption would be that someone broke in. I mean, you were down on the floor passed out and you’ve got a pretty good gash on your temple.” He reaches down in the duffel bag and picks up the empty bottle of liquor. “But after talking with Rose, I know that didn’t happen.”

  Anger shoots through me so fast that I literally see red. “You talked to Rose?”

  “I just got back from there.” He tosses the bottle back down on top of my clothes and doesn’t say anything about it, but he doesn’t have to. I can read him loud and clear.

  “Why would you do that? Not once have you cared to even get to know her or Rusty, and suddenly you’re going over there?” I can only imagine what they had to say about me.

  “Since you won’t talk to me, I had to go to the closest person to you. Nathan, I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m worried about you. She’s worried about you. What harm would it do to tell someone about this?”

  I feel vulnerable on the floor and my body screams at me as I get up. I brace myself against the wall. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I have been hit by a truck. “So that’s what you guys were doing? Sitting in my house talking about me? I bet that was real entertaining for both of you. You get to jab at the psychopath who talks to himself and beats himself up?” I stop myself as I bite back the emotion.

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s really happening then? Let me hear your side too. Otherwise, Rose’s is all I have to go off of. You not telling me gives me no grounds to believe you.”

  I glare at him and don’t say anything for a few seconds. “And why the hell should I do that? Suddenly you care? Suddenly you wanna be a dad to me?”

  “Yes, Nathan. Yes, I do.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed and it surprises me when he sits beside me and places his hand on my knee. This time I don’t pull from his touch, but it’s the first time I notice the blood that has soaked through my pants. Ignoring it, I hesitate. He’s going to react just like Rose. How could he not?

  “I’ll tell you what I’ve told Rose. She doesn’t believe me. I don’t expect you will either.” I rake my hand through my sweaty hair, gathering my thoughts. “I’ve been seeing and hearing things. I’ve seen a woman, a little girl, and a young boy. The woman is hostile and that’s where Rose is assuming I’ve hurt myself.”

  “Who hurt you tonight?”

  I shrug. “It was dark. There were more than three voices. Whoever it was, they were trying to pull me away.”

  “What do the voices say to you?”

  “For the most part, they just ask me why. They know I’m a firefighter. They even know I’m a lieutenant.”

  My father nods but doesn’t respond. I can’t tell if he believes me or not. He stays stoic and it gives me no hint. Patting me on the knee, he stands up. “How long has it been going on?”

  “A few weeks. I’ve lost track of the time.”

  “Rose thinks you need to get some psychological help. She thinks this all could be symptoms of schizophrenia or some other mental illness.”

  “I know,” I reply. “Is that what you think, Dad?”

  “I don’t know, Nathan. I hate to say this, but I don’t know you that well. I know you’re a damn good firefighter and a father to that boy of yours. Rose really does love you. But are you capable of self-mutilation? I can’t answer that honestly. Could you be sick? That’s not for me to decide. One thing I know for certain is, you’re losing your family over this. If salvaging what’s left of yours and Rose’s relationship means going to the doctor, by all means, I’m not sure why you’re dragging your feet. If anything, it could at least rule out mental illness if this stuff is really happening, right?”

  I clench my jaw. I’m so sick of people telling me to go to the doctor. “Wrong.”

  “Why is it wrong?”

  “I go in telling them what I’ve seen and gone through and it’s a quick ticket to an insane asylum where I have no say of when I can leave. It means it stays on my medical history and my job with the department is gone. It means lobotomies, electro-shock therapy, and inhumane treatments.”

  “Son, I don’t think they do some of that stuff anymore. Psychological treatment has changed.”

  “Yeah? Well I’ve been doing a lot of reading. Electro-shock therapy is still something used today. How would you know, anyway?”

  “I think you’re crossing bridges you’re not quite to yet. I do know this, Nathan. If something doesn’t happen soon, kiss your family goodbye. That hurts worse than anything in this world. That is one thing I know about.” He takes one more hard look at me and turns to leave. I’m alone again, left to try and comprehend everything that has just happened. My mind is a scary place. I don’t even want to close my eyes.

  ***

  Rose

  I’m about to doze off and I lean into Nathan’s pillow. It still smells like him and it makes me miss him even more. It jolts me back awake and I wonder if this will all get back to normal. My heart aches thinking about him. He’s always been such a strong man. To see him deteriorate like this kills me.

  I’ve thought about the things he’s claiming to hear and see. I ask myself if it could be true. I’m a spiritual woman and I think that there could be supernatural things out there, but I also know some about psychology and how symptoms of serious mental illness present themselves. He’s showing classic signs of paranoid schizophrenia or even schizoaffective disorder. He’s seen a lot of death on his j
ob. I want to believe him. It’s hard to think that he’s alone, hurting himself, mutilating himself. That’s not the man I fell in love with.

  I bury my face in his pillow and take in the subtle musky scent, and if I think hard enough, I can imagine him lying next to me, his warm, firm body up against mine. I can almost feel his arm wrap around my waist, his kisses trailing down my jaw and to my neck. I miss the feel of his whiskers against my skin and his strong hands on my body. I miss how safe I feel with him on top of me, making love to me all night and still having energy the next morning to tackle the day. I begin to cry and the moisture from my eyes soaks into the pillowcase.

  Rusty’s words sting hard. The poor kid is so confused, but I am too. Maybe I should be more supportive of Nathan, but if he’s not willing to help himself, my hands are tied. I wipe the tears from my face and try to compose myself. I can’t stand the night – it’s so long and cold, and I think about Nathan and what he’s doing. Is he hurting himself? Is he able to rest? I want to imagine he’s sleeping hard with no worries on his mind.

  My phone buzzes on my nightstand. Who is calling me? I don’t recognize the number, but answer anyway. With Nathan’s situation, I don’t want to miss anything.

  “Hello?”

  “Rose, it’s Jack.”

  My heart skips a beat at the sound of Nathan’s father on the other end of the line. I sit up and glance at the alarm clock. “Is everything okay?”

  “I’ve been debating on whether or not to call you, but I think you need to know this. When I got home from your place this evening, Nathan was unconscious on the floor. It looks like he hurt himself again. He has a pretty good wound on his forehead.”

  I feel like I’ve swallowed a ton of bricks. This obviously isn’t getting better. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine now. He probably needs to get medical attention, but you know how that went over with him. He finally told me what’s been happening. His story didn’t change from what he’s told you. He still thinks he’s really seeing the ghosts.”

  “And I’m assuming he told you he doesn’t want to get help.”

  “Yes, he still refuses. Listen, Rose, I’m not sure what you wanna do about this, but I feel like if we just stand by, we’re gonna watch him eventually kill himself.”

  I begin to cry again and I try to hide it, but my whimpers are loud and if Jack doesn’t hear it, it is a miracle. “What can we do?”

  “There are crisis hotlines we can call. They send out a worker that will assess the situation. I think in cases like this, even if he refuses, they can transport him to a facility to get treatment. Especially if he’s hurting himself.”

  The thought of taking Nathan somewhere against his will isn’t appealing, but Jack is right. A part of me is hoping it’ll blow over and he’ll snap out of it, but from the sound of it all, every day gets a little worse. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t try to help him, even if it feels cruel.

  “What do you think, Jack?”

  “You’re his wife. You know him better than I do. I don’t want to put pressure on you, but like I said, we can’t just stand by and watch him push farther away.”

  I kick my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the warm tears flow. “I’ll come by first thing tomorrow morning. I need to digest all of this. Keep an eye on him until then.” I hang up the phone and look at the alarm clock again. It is going to be the longest night of my life.

  Chapter Nine

  Nathan

  I’m exhausted as I lie on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. I’m scared to turn the light off. I’m terrified to even move. I imagine the hand gripping my leg again, but there’s nothing there. My imagination is powerful and I can’t decide if I’m really hearing voices again or if it’s just me expecting to.

  The bedroom door creaks open and I’m on guard, not sure what to expect on the other side. My father peers through and says nothing. He has never looked in on me this much before.

  “I’m turning in, Nathan. You need anything?”

  “No. And you’ve talked to me more today than I can ever remember. You’re up to something, aren’t you?” Acting paranoid doesn’t help my case, but it really feels odd. He’s looking at me differently than just earlier today.

  “Come get me if you need anything.” He ignores my observation and shuts the door.

  I’m so exhausted but my mind won’t rest. I look at the doorframe I slammed into earlier. There’s some damage, but nothing extreme. How would someone go about doing that to themselves? Turning on my side, I close my eyes, but the image of the two children and the woman flash before me, and it’s so alarming that I lose my breath.

  I need something to help me relax. I want them to visit me again, but without the hostility. I want to talk to them. I can’t go much longer living this way and I hope eventually they just go away.

  Walking down the stairs, I try to hit each step lightly. The floor creaks under me. My father usually sleeps like a rock, but something tells me he isn’t tonight. He’s watching me for some reason. I pad to the kitchen and rummage through the cabinets, finally coming across where he stores his liquor. He has several choices, ranging from whiskey to scotch, and of course, a cold bottle of vodka in the freezer.

  I grab the scotch and twist it open, not even bothering with a glass. It’s top shelf stuff and it goes down as smooth as velvet. Before I know it, it’s almost gone. Screwing the lid back on, I put it back where I found it. He’ll notice how much is missing, but I’ll explain it later. Right now, all I want to do is sleep.

  Trudging back up the stairs, I feel the effects of the booze hit me, and it feels like someone is sitting on my shoulders. It takes every last ounce of energy I have to make it to the bed, and I slam my body down into the mattress. I relax and begin to drift off. I know someone is whispering at me, but I’m too tired to give a damn. It’s obvious that they’re not going away. I’ll get a restful night’s sleep and handle it tomorrow. No more excuses.

  When I wake up the next morning, I’m shocked to find out that it’s already a little after nine. I hear talking downstairs and at first, I figure it’s the TV. My father doesn’t get many visitors. Sitting up, I feel the remnants of the alcohol. Sleep didn’t help me any, and I’m sore from my altercation with whatever was in the house last night.

  Maybe a shower will refresh me. Stepping into the hallway, I grab a towel from the closet and hear the talking, louder now. I can tell it’s not the TV. It sounds like Rose, but why in the hell would she be here? She’s told me on more than one occasion that she doesn’t want anything to do with my dad.

  I lean over the railing, trying to get a better vantage point, but I can’t see anything. There’s a voice I don’t recognize and it’s no mystery that I’m the topic of their discussion. It suddenly becomes crystal clear. They’re talking to a stranger about me. With all the reading I’ve done, I’ve learned that a person can be taken into psychological treatment against their will, which is the main reason I’ve avoided it. Would my father and Rose really do that to me?

  Panic sets in and I stand there a few more seconds, attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation.

  “He’s got gashes all over his arms and face. He claims to hear voices and sees things.”

  “Are they command hallucinations?” the unfamiliar voice asks.

  “He hasn’t said. Has he said that to you, Jack?”

  “I’m not quite sure what that is,” Jack replies.

  “They are hallucinations that tell someone to do something. Murders, suicides, and violent acts are a few examples. They can be as small as going for a walk. It just depends. We need to make sure they aren’t telling him to do anything. Regardless, we have enough here to speak with him and probably get a bed arranged for him at the facility. With the self-mutilation and the hallucinations, that is more than enough to meet the criteria to get Nathan the help he needs. I do need to talk to him first. If I can get him to voluntarily go, we can avoid any magistrate’s orders and
law enforcement getting involved.”

  I’m not sure what to think. I take a few steps away from the railing and my back hits the wall behind me. I slide to the floor, hoping that I’m dreaming. I can’t let them take me. I pull myself from the state of shock I’m in and take the stairs down two at a time. I almost make it to the door before my dad puts his hand on it, hindering me from opening it. I know I’m stronger than him, but with the physical state I’m in, I’m not sure I can beat him.

  “Nathan, please sit down.” His voice is stern.

  “Nathan, my name is Anna and I’m with the state mental health authority. Your wife and your father called me because they are very concerned about you. Can you take a minute to talk to me?”

  I turn to look at her. She’s a small, petite woman with a clipboard in her hand. “What good is that gonna do me? I heard you talking. You’re ready to go lock me up.”

  She flashes a smile so sweet, but I know it’s an act. “We’re not going to lock you up, Nathan. We’re here to help you. We want you to feel better. We want to make everything right.”

  I shake my head. Rose and my father are staring at me and I feel like a sideshow freak. “I knew I never should’ve told either of you what’s going on. I trusted you and you go and call them anyway?” I turn to Rose. “Why don’t you believe me? We’ve known each other forever. I wouldn’t make something like this up. I would never put you through this just because I wanted to.”

  She looks away, unable to keep eye contact with me. Anna intervenes, trying to divert my attention. “We know you aren’t making it up. Your brain is experiencing chemical imbalances and we want to get it all fixed. Why don’t you sit on the couch and we can get this all figured out?”

  “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to trap me. Only a sane person would realize that, and I’m sane. There’s nothing wrong with the chemicals in my brain.”