The House the Devil Built

by Benjamin Hively

  “Marsh? What journey?” Luke asked, interrupting the prayer. Terry opened his eyes and looked at his son’s confusion. He hadn’t mentioned the debacle, the boys weren’t close, and so he assumed it wouldn’t have mattered much to Luke.

  “Let me finish, please,” Terry asked, and casted his eyes back down, “Heavenly Father, we appreciate all that you’ve given us and hope Marsh will find the error in his ways, and come back to you. Amen.” Looking back up, he could tell Luke had been staring at him for the rest of the prayer. “Marsh is going away for a few weeks.”

  “What does that even mean? Going away?” Luke inquired.

  “He’s not well. His family has decided to put him in a program so he can become a better young man.” Mark explained. The subject of Marsh was touchy. Terry didn’t know how to approach it with him, and Luke’s sudden interest was discerning. His son continued to stare at him, his eyes burning into Terry as he continued his breakfast.

  “Wait, I hope you’re not meaning what I think you’re meaning,” Luke pressed, strangely clued into the situation.

  “He has tendencies, Luke,” Janis jumped in. Terry was relieved as Luke’s eyes transferred over to her.

  “Gay?” Luke inquired, “He’s not gay. You’re sending him to one of those camps aren’t you?”

  “We’re not sending him anywhere. His parents are,” Terry chimed back in. With Luke’s sudden behavior, the last thing he wanted was Luke to blame them for Marsh. Marsh had chosen this, so the person to blame was Marsh himself. “Marsh just needs redirection.”

  “Bull crap! Do you even know what this kid goes through at school? The jocks use him as some sort of verbal punching bag to hide behind their own insecurities. And now you?” Luke bellowed, before jumping up from his seat. Terry had never seen Luke react this way to anything, and it shocked him into silence. He watched as the boy looked at both of them before running back upstairs to his room. Janis looked down at her plate, an uncomfortable air between them.

  “Are you sure this is the right decision for them?” Janis finally queried, her appetite suppressed by the argument that had just erupted in their peaceful kitchen. Luke came back down the stairs, book bag in hand, and raced outside, the slamming of the door making them both jump. Terry wanted to chase after him to get an apology for the clash at breakfast but didn’t want to push the argument further. His intuition told him this wouldn’t be the last argument of the day, and he began to play through the dispute he would have in a few short hours with Mark. That argument became his center focus as he finished his breakfast and showered, reciting his counter remarks he had preplanned for Mark’s disapproval.

  He became nervous as he drove to the Batton house, where he would meet with the counselor, Denise, and Marsh. It wasn’t him regretting his decision. More so of how Denise would react or even worse how Marsh would respond to being forced into a van to be taken away. This was an intervention, and from Terry’s research, events like this didn’t bode well for anyone involved. There wasn’t just a singular victim to one’s sins, there were always casualties and unfortunate for the Batton family as they were in the crossfire. Terry’s plans went much further than getting Marsh the help he needed, he was to provide grief counseling for those left behind. Although Mark would be angry for the betrayal at first, time would pass and Mark would see it as a blessing in disguise. His son would be freed from the homosexual torment and lead a productive life with a wife and children, continuing the family lineage as God had always planned.

  The white van with the Re-Course logo was already parked outside of the home when Terry pulled up. There were two large men sitting up front, and Terry walked up to them as they rolled down their window.

  “I’m going to go speak with Denise and make sure Marsh is here.” Terry said, as the men peered at him from sunglasses.

  “It’s best if the young man is not prepped for intake. The element of surprise can hinder his escape if he should try. Tell the mother to stay inside, no matter what.” Terry nodded. He had been unable to understand the whole process even after the brief explanation over the phone and, now in person, he was happy that men seemed confident. “Just signal to us when you are in place.”

  Terry crossed the lawn and knocked on the door. It was a moment before Denise answered, but when she did, the stress of it all was written on her face. He had never seen her like this before, her makeup was modest, her hair was haphazardly placed in bun, and she let him in, closing the door behind her.

  “I had to convince him to stay home today, but he’s up there,” she said, pointing towards the staircase. “I’m not sure I can go through with this.” Terry could see her discomfort as she fiddled with a bracelet wrapped around her wrist.

  “It’s for the best, you want to save Marsh’s soul, right?” Terry responded, pulling her into a hug. She began to weep quietly, and he pulled her away from him and looked her straight in the eyes. “In six weeks he’ll be back on the righteous path Denise, and all of this will be a distant memory. Just keep your faith.” Her eyes welled up with more tears, and she wiped them away with the sleeve of her blouse.

  “Let’s just get it done before I change my mind,” she said, waving her hand at Terry. She walked into the kitchen, and he followed to give her a quick rundown on what was about to occur. Reluctantly, she agreed to not intervene in the intake process no matter how it unfolded, and with trembling hands, she prayed with Terry for strength and Marsh’s soul. Terry took this as an approval and lifted himself from the chair to signal to the men outside that everything was good to go.

  The men entered the home, went directly upstairs, and in a matter of five minutes, after an emotional firestorm, Denise and Terry were left alone in the house once again. Denise had completely lost all control as the sounds of Marsh’s screams filled the house, and Terry had to hold her down in order to keep her from running to her son’s aid. She had become harder to contain when Marsh was brought kicking and screaming out of the house by the two men and she broke free from Terry, rushing to the front door. She had stopped herself in the doorway, falling to the ground in a fit of tears, and Terry held her, consoling her, as Marsh was placed into the van and locked inside. The men wasted no time, and the van disappeared from sight.

  Terry was eventually able to persuade Denise to stand, unsteady, Terry held her arm as she regained composure. Her makeup had failed to hold, and it streamed down her face. The black lines dragged down from her eyes and pulled at the top of her lip along with the snot and tears. Terry grabbed a towel from the bathroom and handed it to her as she wept quietly on the couch. The scene had unfolded much more dramatically than he had imagined, what had only been five minutes played in a loop in his mind. Internally he was a mess as well, and now more than ever he wanted to rid their town of the homosexuals, not wanting their lifestyle to impact any more families that resided here.

  “He’s never going to forgive me,” Denise wailed, “And my God, what am I to say to Amelia?” She dropped her head into the towel to stiffen her cries. Terry moved closer to her, grabbing her hand in comfort.

  “Mark will understand. Maybe not right away, but deep down he will know that Marsh will be better off. When Marsh chose this lifestyle, he knew the sins he was committing when he looked at those disgusting videos. He will see the light and come back to Jesus Christ.” Terry explained. She was beginning to calm, and Terry said a silent prayer thanking God for his mercy. Denise looked at him, her face red and enflamed, her mouth trying to form a smile. “There you go. No more tears. You have to remain strong for your family and for Marsh.”

  Another knock on the door jolted them from their conversation, and Denise looked at him in fright, and said “Who could that be? Can you get it, please? I probably look like a mess right now.” Terry obliged, and, looking out the front door window, he recognized the face from church, immediately regretting allowing the men to pull Marsh out of the house with all the commotion. He opened the door cautiously and peered at the old man standing
on the stoop.

  “Oh, Pastor, it’s you!” the man said, “I wanted to come over and make sure everything was alright. I heard the racket and got concerned. Is everything alright?”

  Terry didn’t want Denise to get more worked up so he walked out, pulling the door closed behind him. The man stepped back allowing space for the Pastor on the porch, and Terry exhaled deeply. “Everything is fine, just one of their kids is sick.”

  “Sick, ya say? Well, my my. I just saw the men throwing that poor boy in the back of the van,” the elderly man replied. Terry hated that they had gotten the attention of the neighbor, pondering if any other neighbor’s prying eyes had witnessed the episode. He was annoyed by the man’s curiosity and more agitated that he wouldn’t let it go.

  “Richard, right? Now, I’m going against all my principles by telling you this, but I don’t want you to be alarmed anymore.” Terry began, “Were you at church on Sunday?”

  “Of course, every Sunday for the last sixty years, I was there when your Daddy became a pastor,” the man quipped proudly.

  “Well, you see, the boy was of the homosexual persuasion, and the Battons wanted to make sure that he could get the help he needed.” Terry looked at the man’s confusion. The man shook his head and laughed.

  “Now I feel stupid. I left a message for Mark at the station to come home. If I would have known he was aware I wouldn’t have wasted my time. This damn world. It’s going to Hell in a handbasket, don’t you agree, Pastor?”

  “I do,” Terry remarked, before dismissing the man. Terry was not ready for Mark to arrive yet, and Denise was certainly not in a position to deal with another upheaval. He contemplated on the porch while checking both directions to see if he could spot Mark’s cruiser, but the road was vacant. Terry was furious with the man for calling Mark but more angry at himself for allowing the event to go on without much of a care of who could be watching. The moment of reckoning was coming at any second and Terry kept his position on the porch awaiting Mark’s arrival.

  SIX

  C-30 was quickly becoming claustrophobic, and Ashton was ready to bail from the hospital room. It had been a long twenty-four hours that included nearly thirty stitches to his head, and his need for his own environment was growing stronger by the minute. They had promised him that he could leave, and, as he watched nurses and doctors scramble past his door, he grew agitated that no one was in any great hurry to hand over his discharge papers. Dillon had left him in the hospital room to get Mark from the waiting room, the only ride they could procure at the time. Yet another thing Ashton was not exactly fond of. Something was stirring inside him, at times it would grab onto his soul sending demented thoughts through his brain waves and he would snap at whomever was in front of him. Unluckily, a nurse stopped right at his doorway at that moment; and the thing crept forth up through his throat and spewed out of his mouth.

  “Get me the fuck out of here!” he bellowed. The nurse turned around at the sudden roaring from his hospital room, the voice bouncing off the hospital walls like a cave, and scampered away. Ashton laid back on the bed, feeling a rush inside his head, and questioned where the guttural sound of the voice had come from. He wasn’t feeling well, his temperature fluctuating from extremely cold to a blistering hot; at moments sweating profusely, as his body reacted to the fire burning inside, and ,just as quickly going back down as if he had been placed in a deep freezer. He didn’t want to admit to anyone that something was amiss, afraid that they would keep him in the hospital longer.

  The gash in his head even seemed alive. Each time he started to feel the stirring inside of him, the skin would pull against the stitching as if his skull was trying to escape through his scalp. The pain was unbearable, and he hoped that upon discharge they would write a prescription for painkillers to help subdue it. Dillon finally reemerged from the waiting room with Mark in toe.

  “You doing ok?” Dillon asked nervously, and Ashton glared at him.

  “I want to fucking leave,” he growled. Ashton’s wound vibrated and the stirring flipped his stomach on its side. The urge to vomit filled him. He sat up and started to heave. The man behind Dillon quickly exited the room as Ashton proceeded to vomit on the ground below the bed. Dillon stepped backwards in attempt to save his shoes, the vomit hitting the ground and splattering out towards him. Ashton looked up, his eyes watering from the pressure. “Such a pretty little lamb that one.”

  “What?” Dillon confusedly inquired, as Ashton moved outside of his body and viewed the experience from the ceiling.

  “That dainty little man pig wants you. He’ll fuck you like he fucks his pretty little wife.” The voice came from Ashton but he couldn’t understand where it was coming from. He wasn’t able to control his words or his body for that matter. It was as if something had taken the wheel in his body and made it their own, and he was completely disgusted at the words coming forth from his mouth. He could taste metal, like a bit had been placed in his mouth, and he choked, his body seizing from the lack of control. Dillon rushed to his side, ignoring the words, and put his hands on both sides of Ashton’s head, and he began to feel calm again.

  “I just want to leave, please. Get me out of here,” Ashton said, tears falling down his cheeks. Dillon’s fearful look was concerning him, and he knew that Dillon’s hesitation was just. They were both just as confused as the other at what had just occurred.

  “I’ll go get the paperwork.” Dillon said, the reluctance in his voice apparent. Dillon exited the room, the smell of vomit lingering in the air. The situation was bleak, he was sure that if a nurse or doctor entered the room and if Dillon told them about what had just happened, they’d want another night of observation. Ashton would be stuck once again. He wanted desperately to take away the last ten minutes, but a nurse entered the room with a wheelchair and smiled at him.

  “Ready to go?” she asked, overlooking the vomit all over the ground. It was aberrant, Ashton thought to himself, but he rose from the bed grabbed the bag of clothes Dillon had brought, and entered the bathroom. He took off his hospital gown quickly, not wanting the nurse to have a change of heart, and was dressed in his regular clothes in a matter of seconds. He opened the door of the bathroom and the nurse still stood behind the wheelchair with the same smile as before. He sat down in the chair, and she swiveled him towards the door where Dillon was standing, a wide smile stretched across his face as well. It unnerved Ashton the way they were both being obedient to his inner wishes but was ecstatic at his ability to escape from C-30 and the hospital all together.

  A hypnotic soothing rain was falling as Ashton was wheeled out of the hospital onto the sidewalk. The nurse clicked the brake into place, Mark’s police cruiser pulled up to the curb, and Dillon opened the back door to allow Ashton to enter. He had never been in a police car before, and the thought of being let out of the hospital and into a police car voluntarily was eccentric to even him. Dillon closed the door behind him, entered the front of the car with Mark, and soon they were all driving away from the hospital as it dwindled in size behind them. The occupants in the car were silent as they drove past fields of sugarcane and swamps, the car speeding towards the town of Acadian Springs.

  A sense of relief passed through Ashton as they turned into the drive of their home. The home, which had previously stood as a beacon of horror for him, now seemed so inviting and comforting. As he exited the police car, he ambled to the porch, went inside, and he stopped in the entryway, allowing his eyes to look over the stain that encapsulated the terror that had befallen them from the ignorant preacher. Smiling, he stepped over it and traversed the stairs to his bedroom. It had laid untouched since the accident Blood still soaked into the carpeting, further in the bathroom, the water and blood mixture had dried on the ceramic tiles, and the tub was still full of the cold concoction. The faucet dripped into the water below, diluting the blood, its red fading to a light orange.

  Ashton laid on the bed, resting his eyes. Drip. He began to drift from his headspace into
another realm, and he could feel his own soul lifting from the bed, his body left behind on the mattress below. Drip. Facing down at himself from the ceiling, his eyes opened. The blueish-grey of his eyes were nearly gone, his pupils the size of dimes and his mouth turned up in a devilish grin. Drip. The body he had been inside of for twenty-seven years was now a vessel for something else, and he could feel it coursing through his veins like an electrical streetcar in a heavy storm. Drip. His face smiled blankly at him, his head wound pulsing from the intrusion, and it opened its mouth letting out a ghastly mechanical growl that sent shockwaves through his body He felt himself drop back down to the bed where his body actually was.

  He lurched forward, his own soul in his own body, the sense of doom lingering just below the surface of his skin. What he had just experienced was completely perplexing but not foreign to what had happened at the hospital, and he wondered if he truly was going insane. The room itself even seem victimized, with his blood splattered all over the floors, and the discomfort grew as he laid there longer, listening to the dripping of the faucet. He pulled himself off the bed, leaving the room behind, and went back downstairs to where Dillon was still outside talking with the officer. They seemed comfortable with one another, and Ashton spied on them through a crack in the plastic sheeting that covered their windows. Their conversation was unintelligible at his current location, and he attempted to move to another window but was allowed no further access into the conversation they were having.