An American Love Story

by C. S. Moore

  “Where have you been? Everybody’s been looking for you, all of the sisters and your friends,” he said.

  She stopped digging for a moment, breathing hard. Her face turned up toward him, but she said nothing. She seemed to be trying to decide how best to answer the question she was being asked.

  “I don’t know where I was. I was here, and then I was there. But I don’t know where there was,” she said.

  He looked down at her in confusion, but she seemed to be satisfied with her given answer. She looked up at him, her sad blue eyes pleading.

  “Please, Father, please. He is hurting so bad, and I’m the one who’s supposed to help him. I knew it the minute I saw him. I filled up with sunshine, and I just felt him ask for my help,” she said.

  Father Benton didn’t know how to console the poor child. He just kept her talking so that she wouldn’t be digging.

  “Who, Amanda?” he asked.

  She looked to the old priest like she would have cried had she not used up all of her tears already. “A boy, Justin was his name. He is stuck, and I could have helped him. But I got scared and woke up here and left him,” she whispered.

  She started screaming and clawing at the ground again. He jumped into the hole and held her firmly in his arms, making sure she was snug and couldn’t hurt herself. She screamed at the top of her lungs, trying desperately to free her arms, but he was stronger.

  “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Justin!” she cried.

  He rocked her gently while humming a church hymn on their way back to the towering Gothic structure that was the lonely child’s home.

  Chapter One

  Eleven years later...

  Amanda sat staring at the age-darkened table, feeling on edge. It didn’t matter that she should feel comfortable after two years back. She didn’t. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the feeling of being watched was unbearable. You’d think people could understand why a thirteen-year-old felt the need to run away from a place like this, but of course, none of them did.

  I wish they’d stop staring at me. It must get tiring to glare at someone for two straight years.

  “Don’t look so tortured, Amanda,” Cole joked as he set a bowl down in front of her.

  She looked up at him, the unease draining as he sat next to her. He had laughter dancing in his brown eyes. It was so easy to forget her unwanted audience when he was with her.

  “Am I expected to be anything but in the presence of such terrible company?” she asked him with a smile.

  “Terrible company?” he said, feigning hurt. “You know I could get offended by that if I wanted to.”

  “You’re always excluded from my rants, you know that.”

  “I know I just like hearing you say it,” he said around a mouthful.

  He’d already started digging into his soup, and it did smell uncharacteristically good today, so she followed suit. Her spoon fished around in the creamy stew until she found a chunk of potato. It was still steaming as she brought it to her lips, but the metal spoon fell to the ground with a loud clatter. As the familiar choking darkness formed around her, she was amazed by the freak show that was her life, knowing none of her many observers were surprised a teenage girl had just disappeared.

  It’s never been this strong. Amanda thought as she fell through space, and the growing feeling of dread ripped at her chest. This wasn’t how a Scar should feel. She wasn’t in danger. This was a memory. Whatever danger she witnessed had already happened. She repeated the mantra over and over that she’d been taught, but still the fear pricked at her heart. Like a well-worn textbook, she flipped through the pages of her mind. Had she learned anything at all about how to stop the leap?

  Of course, it’s not in the curriculum. I’m probably the only Healer in the history of the world to ever think about stopping mid-leap.

  Even though she wasn’t yet on the other side, she knew, somehow, that she wasn’t strong enough to deal with this Scar. Whatever trauma this poor soul had gone through was too much for her to bear. How was she supposed to set them free if she was hyperventilating before she’d even seen anything? As much as she hated the feeling of blindness that came before she entered a Scar, she knew that the blackness was preferable to what you see when the memory unfolds before you.

  Why did Madgie have such confidence in her? She’d failed every single test. She shouldn’t be allowed to heal. Of course, if the world wasn’t so messed up, she wouldn’t be healing at all.

  She could feel the horrible scene materializing around her. Her body began to crumble; the weight of this memory too much for one set of novice shoulders. The fear, the hate, the burning evil desire.

  I’m not a Healer. I’m not strong enough; I never have been.

  Her vision began to blur around the edges. Just when she was about to succumb to the darkness, she found herself standing in a dimly lit hallway. The first thing she noticed was the awful stench. Hot, wet, rot. Amanda quickly covered her face to breathe through her sleeve.

  Tiptoeing down the sticky hallway, she started to memorize her surroundings. The webbing cracks in the plaster, the dark mold that clung to the walls, stretching upward from behind decaying baseboards.

  Who lived here?

  Amanda was used to landing in front of the spirit in need of help, not an empty hallway. She held her breath as she began her silent search, hoping that would keep the smell at bay. It did little. Even without breathing, the stench seemed to creep inside her every pore, contaminating her blood. All of the curriculum she’d had drilled into her brain wouldn’t help her here. This wasn’t a normal Scar. She realized who lived here was the wrong question, what lived here would be a better one. The unbearable fear and the living stink could only mean one thing.

  A demon is here, a strong one. Her legs froze in place as she realized the enormity of the situation.

  A leach-demon was there, living off this Scar, sucking the fear and life out of this trapped soul. Though it was an extremely rare occurrence, she’d been taught what to do if you sensed a demon in a Scar — leave. She couldn’t, not while knowing the demon would stay here, feasting on this spirit’s nightmares, until either someone made it leave or the spirit faded into nonexistence.

  A loud crash rang out in the unseen room to her right. She leapt back and quickly clasped a sweaty palm over her shrieking mouth. Nothing can hurt you, calm down! she chastised herself.

  Turning toward the noise, she cloaked herself with a quick spell. Closing her eyes tightly, she pressed her body into the nearest wall, attempting to be one with it. Her heart and mind still rattled with fear, so it took longer than it should have, but she managed to slip through. Calm down, you’re a Healer. You repair the world. You free spirits. You… pass out on a regular basis. You need a new mantra. The old ones aren’t helping at all.

  Surfacing on the other side of the wall, she put on the usual cloak, but both people in the room were looking right at her. She guessed the scream hadn’t helped her in the subtlety department.

  One of the two people was an overweight man in his forties. It was difficult to pinpoint an exact age due to the dark rings of drug use apparent beneath his black eyes. They both shook their heads and looked away from her. He stood at the end of the bed with one leg in a pair of worn-out sweat pants. He stumbled clumsily as he attempted to get its twin into the other hole.

  Amanda looked away quickly, tears stinging her eyes. She’d witnessed scenes like this before and didn’t need to take in all of the terrible details. The man managed to get his pants back on and started across the room.

  “I don’t want to hear a word, not a word,” the man said. He didn’t need to add an ‘or else’, not anymore.

  If he were more than a mere memory, I would kill him slowly. Tear off all his favorite parts and then leave him for the rats, she thought venomously. Amanda uncloaked herself and made her way to the bed and the little girl lying upon it, bruised and silently crying.

  She couldn’t be more than
seven, Amanda thought studying the child. The little girl was dirty and covered in rags. Her face was buried in an old pillow, making her light brown curls, which had tangled themselves into a messy halo around her head, the only thing Amanda could see.

  “What’s your name?” she asked softly.

  The girl kept her face in the safety of the pillow and shook her frail head back and forth.

  “Don’t worry, he can’t hear me,” she reassured.

  The girl’s delicate shoulders straightened, and Amanda had to strain her ears to listen to the tiny voice, which sounded like it hadn’t been used for a long time.

  “Why can’t he hear you?” she asked. Before Amanda could answer the girl’s blank face turned up in recognition. “Wait! Are you my guardian angel?”

  Amanda was taken by surprise. Usually the souls trapped in Scars had gone through so much they no longer believed in anything, let alone angels.

  “In a way, I am. How did you know?” Amanda asked.

  The girl’s trembling hands lowered to her lap and took the filthy pillow along with them. She looked up and squinted as though the light hurt her haunting light blue eyes. They were unfocused and although the child was face to face with her, she seemed to be gazing off into an unseen world.

  Her eyes are too light. She’s blind.

  “You walked through the wall. I heard you on the other side of it then you were right there,” she said, pointing a tiny finger at the exact spot Amanda had entered. “And there’s no opening, so you must be magic.” Anticipation blossomed across her face as she continued. “I’ve heard about magic. It can save you from bad people or sometimes grant wishes. I’ve tried to use it before, on my door, to keep out people who want to hurt me. Mine never worked, but yours does. So you must be an angel,” the child concluded.

  Amanda thought of the little blind girl standing in the doorway, waving her thin arms and chanting an incantation, a spell of protection. She wished the spells had worked, but she knew better.

  I wouldn’t be here if her spells had protected her from evil.

  This young girl had been hurt so badly her soul had been torn away from its rightful place inside her body. She was trapped in her past, trapped by the man who had corrupted her soul, and maybe she’d died here. Perhaps he’d murdered her in the end. But she wasn’t here in this Scar because of her death. She was here because of her life.

  Flipping back to her first lesson at the Hovel, she recanted, “Scars are left when a spirit cannot move on from a singular event.”

  This curly haired girl may have lived to seventy or she could still be alive today, just a shell of a human being walking and talking. But her spirit had never left this moment, this room, this place.

  Amanda pushed away the painful thoughts before they overcame her. “Well, I wouldn’t call myself an angel, but I do know magic and I am here to help you.” She gently placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder, making the child flinch away reflexively. “Your name, do you remember your name?” she asked.

  “Kaedin, my name is Kaedin,” she whispered.

  “Wow, that’s a beautiful name. Did you know that your name means spirit?”

  Kaedin shook her head.

  “Must mean you have a lot in you. My name is Amanda.” She held out her hand in a greeting before dropping it quickly, the girl couldn’t see it and therefore couldn’t shake it. Amanda looked around the room. It was easier to counsel when you knew the year. She couldn’t tell much by the furniture or the rags thrown on Kaedin but noticed a paper lying on the table. It was dated ten years ago. Kaedin would be about her age, if she was still alive.

  Taking a deep breath, she cleared her mind and went through her usual checklist, although she knew this would be anything but routine. Counseling was sure to be different with the leach demon clinging to the Scar so strongly, but she couldn’t guess how as all she was taught about her current situation was to not be in it. Amanda didn’t know if it could hurt them, but then she thought of what would happen to this sweet spirit if she did nothing. That’s what Kaedin would be, nothing. The demon couldn’t possibly do more harm than that. So she decided to follow normal procedure.

  “So, Kaedin, tell me how to help you.”

  The child’s face once, devoid of color, brightened a little. “Can you really save me? Are you even real, or did I make you up? No one never ever helped me.” Tears pooled up and began to fall freely from her sightless eyes. “No one ever helped me, because no one ever loved me.” Her little hands brought the pillow back up to her face to absorb the salty tears.

  Amanda choked back tears of her own, wanting to be strong for the weakening spirit. “I’m so sorry for what you’ve gone through. You should never think that. You are pretty easy to love, you know,” Amanda said soothingly as she gently took the pillow away and lifted up the broken girl’s chin.

  “Look, Kaedin, I can do anything you ask me to do,” she said. Amanda held out her hand and closed her eyes, calling on light. When she opened them, a bright ball of light danced in her hand, bursting with color and bringing life to the dingy room. Lightning and rainbows, bright and flickering, every form of light now warmed her hand. She gently placed the ball into the girl’s small palm, letting her soak up its unique warmth. “I’ll be here with you. No one can hurt you as long as I’m here,” she assured her.

  “If I fight, he hurts me. He’ll hurt you too. I’m scared, Amanda. You should leave before you can’t. Once he took me I never could leave,” Kaedin said, letting the ball of light fade.

  Abducted? Too many times scenes like these weren’t abductions, but the child’s own family.

  “He took you?” she asked.

  Kaedin nodded, then wiped her eyes.

  “Well, you weren’t his to take, let’s go tell him so.”

  Her small hands covered her face, and she shook her head furiously.

  “You’re special and pretty and strong. Let me hear you say that,” Amanda said.

  Kaedin obediently uncovered her tear streaked face. “I’m special and pretty and I am strong,” she repeated doubtfully.

  “People love me,” Amanda prompted.

  When Kaedin didn’t repeat the words, Amanda looked over at her and cleared her throat. This made the child attempt a smile, though her face didn’t seem used to the action.

  “People love me,” Kaedin repeated.

  Amanda reached over and squeezed her small hand. “I love you,” Amanda said with meaning.

  “I love you,” Kaedin quickly said, making Amanda smile.

  “No, you don’t have to repeat anymore,” she said.

  “I wasn’t repeating. I just love you. Ever since you walked through that wall, I’ve felt safe. Like maybe, he can’t hurt me anymore. I never felt that way before,” the child said, looking up to her, though she couldn’t see.

  “Are you okay to stand up?” Amanda asked.

  Kaedin jutted out her chin as if it were a rude question. “Of course I can stand up.” She squirmed off the bed quickly and stood next to Amanda. “Now what?”

  “You tell me. You’re the boss here. What is it you want to do?” Amanda asked.

  Kaedin thought for a moment. “Well I always wanted to scream just as loud as I could and not stop until I’m just too tired to keep on screaming,” Kaedin said in a rush.

  “Okay let’s do it together,” Amanda said, drawing in a breath.

  “No! No, no. Frank will hear and he’ll come get us,” the spirit said frightfully.

  Amanda closed her eyes and searched the Scar. She could feel Frank. He was strong, because Kaedin’s memories of him were so powerful, but she was more resilient than the mirage. He wouldn’t be able to overpower her. She was so much tougher now, compared to when her first Scar had taken her. Of course, she had been barely more than a baby then.

  Amanda concentrated harder and could feel the physical presence of the Demon hiding in shadows throughout the house. She opened her eyes and noticed her silence had frightened Kaedin.
>
  “It’s all right, I’m stronger than Frank. Remember, I have magic,” Amanda said.

  “You’ll stop him from hurting me, right?” Kaedin asked grabbing hold of her hand.

  “Right, Frank isn’t stronger than the love I have for you,” Amanda told her.

  Amanda knew Kaedin could feel her love, something the small child hadn’t experienced in some time. So, she took in a deep gulp of air and started screaming at the top of her lungs, holding nothing back.

  Immediately, Frank was at the other side of the door. “You stop that. Stop it, or I’ll get the bat again!” he shouted.

  He was fierce, but she kept him out of the room easily enough. The tormented spirit paused for a moment at his threat, and Amanda squeezed her hand in encouragement. Kaedin smiled at her and started shouting words that she had given her.

  “I am special, I am strong!” she screamed.

  Amanda could already see the change. She also sensed the Leach Demon growing angry. He wasn’t quite ready to leave. Amanda took comfort in the fact that Kaedin didn’t require much. She was such a resilient spirit all she needed was to have someone who wanted to help her. Someone who believed her, and now she had it. Frank beat at the door with more ferocity, and Amanda squirmed. It was getting harder and harder for her to hold him back.

  “People love me!” Kaedin cried.

  With every shout, Amanda could feel the little spirit healing. Soon she would be free. Amanda sensed the dark energy pulling before she saw it and drew up her strength. She’d need it.

  “Find someone else to feed off of, scumbag,” Amanda said.

  At her words, all of the shadows left their hiding places. Dark grey wisps crept out of corners, and seeped up out of the floorboards. Even Amanda and Kaedin’s own silhouettes abandoned them, turning to tar and bonding into a mass of darkness. The small room was unnaturally bright. All of the shading was gone from their natural spaces and standing in a heaving blob before them. At that moment, Amanda was glad for Kaedin’s blindness.

  “I wasn’t yours to take!” she shouted.