After The Exorcism: Book One

by Tabitha Swann

  She looked like she would be a good mom, Scout thought. That was her first impression of her, from her soft, almost calming voice and her warm expression.

  “I won’t make you stand up and tell everyone your business,” Tara said. “Not unless you want to. It’s entirely up to you if you want to talk or not. If you want to just come in, have a coffee and check it out, we’d love to have you. They’re a good group of people. We’ve been meeting up now for a couple of years and we do get new people joining sometimes, so we’re always happy to see a new face.”

  “I don’t know what I’d say. I don’t really know what the group is for.”

  Tara smiled. She rubbed her hands together to warm them up. “OK,” Tara said. Her smile faded. “I’m here because my house was haunted.”

  Scout raised her eyebrows.

  “For six months,” Tara said, “my husband and I were harassed in our own home. For a while, it was just noises and voices. Then things would break, sometimes something would just be sitting there on a shelf and it would snap or shatter.”

  “That sounds horrible,” Scout said.

  “It got worse. We had nowhere to go. It got so we were being assaulted in our sleep by whatever was in our house.” Tara loosened her scarf and looked away as she said, “My husband, he couldn’t take it. He’s no longer with us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Scout said.

  “This is the part where, with everyone else, I would say, ‘Sounds crazy, right?’” Tara said. “Well, we don’t use the C word here. That’s what this group is for. We tell each other what we’ve been through, how we’ve experienced things, and nobody will think we’re crazy. We all go in with open minds and open hearts, and we have a coffee and a chat at the same time. It helps more than you might think.”

  “That sounds nice,” Scout said, smiling.

  “The group is called Spiritual Survivors,” Tara said. “Some people have stories like that. Some don’t. We’re all good friends now, but we all started out as strangers. We were all nervous, like you.”

  Scout laughed.

  “Come inside,” Tara said. “It’s freezing out here.”

  Scout looked at her watch. “I can’t. It’s five past,” she said. “I don’t want to just show up late the first time. I’ll come back, though.”

  As she said it, she knew she would never come back.

  I tried, she told herself, but I can’t do it. I can sort myself out, anyway. I can figure something out.

  “OK,” Tara said. She smiled at Scout in a way that Scout hadn’t seen for a long time, as if she was an old friend, as if she was really welcome. “Stop with the BS. You can come in with me. I’ll introduce you around.”

  Scout was gripping her own hand so tight it started to hurt.

  Tara must have noticed. “We can introduce you around while everyone’s getting coffee at the start,” she said. “If you don’t want to speak in front of everyone all at once, you don’t have to do that. Some people take time to warm up, it’s natural.”

  It was getting harder to insist on leaving. Scout was scared, but she was also glad. She didn’t want to be given a choice anymore, because she would choose to go home to be alone, even though that was the last thing she wanted.

  “Come on, girl,” Tara said. “You can help me carry the donuts. Did I mention the donuts yet?”

  Scout laughed.

  They started to walk towards the church.

  “Do you live around here?” Tara said.

  Scout shook her head. “I live down in Elmwood Park, near the river.”

  “Oh, my god. You came all that way?” Tara was surprised. “Let me give you ride home afterwards.”

  “Oh, I’ll be OK,” Scout said. “It’s not that far.”

  “Don’t be silly. That’s a half hour drive by car. It must take three times that on the bus. I’ll give you a ride, honestly. I’d like that.”

  “Thanks,” Scout said. “That’s really nice of you.”

  Tara opened the trunk of her car, handed Scout a big box of donuts, and grabbed another herself.

  “Let’s get inside before we catch our death of cold,” Tara said.

  *

  Tara allowed Scout to walk in front of her as they entered the church through a side door which led onto the parking lot. Scout looked at the notice boards inside the door. There were notices for bake sales, concerts, barbecues, more support groups. There were the blueprints for a whole community up on that board. It made Scout feel alone. Elmwood Park was dangerous and its people were suspicious of one another. Scout’s backpack contained a can of mace and a small knife. When she was in her neighborhood, she carried the knife in her pocket.

  “Everyone must be here already,” Tara said, as the murmur of voices got louder towards the end of the corridor.

  Scout stopped in front of the door from where the voices were coming. She turned and smiled sheepishly at Tara.

  Tara stopped, too. She looked at Scout with something like recognition. Scout felt like she had known Tara a long time. Maybe it was just because she was about to enter a room with even newer strangers.

  “You’re OK, girl,” Tara said. She smiled in a way that was so gentle and kind that it nearly reduced Scout to tears. “Just remember, Scout. Everyone is really happy you’re here.”

  Scout nodded and smiled. She lifted her head up and walked inside.

  The room was large, about the size of a basketball court, and mostly empty but for a few tables around its edges and a circle of a dozen chairs in its center arranged in a circle. It had a high ceiling with beams which would quickly ensnare any basketballs should a game break out. Scout tried to not look up. She didn't need any help feeling small.

  Looking around at the people in the room, Scout didn't peg them as basketball players. There were nine of them all together, including Tara. Scout counted them quickly at a first glance, trying to calm herself thinking, It's only nine people. That's not so bad. It's not like you'd have to speak at Vatican City or anything.

  The overall impression the group made on Scout was simply one of ordinariness. Most them were in their fifties and over. Only two were younger, an early-thirty-something woman with glasses in a bobble hat not dissimilar to Scout's, and a slim twenty-something guy with scruffy hair in a T-shirt for a band she had never heard of. The guy was one of two, the other being a school principle-looking type in a shirt and tie with a black moustache and a ready smile.

  Scout smiled at whoever looked at her. She tried to try to make eye contact with everyone as she paused upon entering the room. She had read online when she was looking for work that eye contact meant a lot in interviews, that it made people trust you and be more inclined to like you.

  She thought she'd give it a try.

  "Over this way, honey," Tara said from behind her.

  Scout turned and followed her to a table at the side where the early-thirty-something woman in the hat and an elderly woman in a bright, knitted cardigan were chatting and grabbing a coffee.

  "We were worried about you," the younger woman was saying to her, a hand on the elderly woman's arm.

  The elderly woman shook her head and smiled. "I'm a tough old broad," she said. "It'll take more than a patch of ice to finish me off."

  Tara placed her box of donuts next to the coffee jug and Scout put hers beside it.

  "Ladies, hitting the coffee already?" Tara said.

  "You know I need to get my buzz going before I can stand up in front of you jackals," the older woman said, laughing.

  "It's so good to see you again, Eileen," Tara said, kissing her on the cheek. "We missed you."

  Eileen looked at Scout. "Why, hello!" she said and extended her hand.

  Tara smiled and put her hand in front of Eileen's before she spoke, sparing Scout the choice between physical contact and the embarrassment of refusing it. It was a small gesture, but one that Scout noticed immediately. And, with that, she immediately liked and trusted Tara. Eileen drew her hand back and gave a small
wave instead, smiling at Scout.

  "I'd like you to meet a friend of mine," Tara said. "This is Scout. This is her first time visiting with us."

  Scout smiled and nodded. "Hello," she said.

  "This young pup is Eileen," Tara said, and, then, gesturing to the younger woman, "and this is Jess."

  Jess gave a small wave too, following Eileen's lead. "Hey," Jess said, warmly. "I like your hat."

  Scout glanced up and whipped it off, smiling and turning a little red. She ruffled her hair out. "Thank you," Scout said.

  "Scout," Eileen said, "that's such an interesting name."

  Scout smiled.

  "Everyone here is lovely, I promise," Eileen said. "If they can put up with an old crone like me waffling on every week, you know they must be saints."

  "Would you like a cup of coffee?" Jess said.

  "Thank you," Scout said. "That would be great."

  "You look half-frozen," Eileen said.

  Jess poured Scout a coffee and handed it to her in a small mug with a picture of a smiling, blue-eyed Jesus painted on the side.

  "OK, everyone," Tara called out. "Let's take a seat, shall we?"

  The others, save for the scruffy young guy in the band t-shirt, sat in the chairs in the circle in the center of the room. Scout moved slow, waiting to see where a space would open up, not wanting to take the young guy's chair. When it didn't look like there would be enough chairs, Scout smiled as her heart sank.

  The young guy appeared behind her with a chair in his hands and said, "Here we go. You can sit here."

  He pushed his chair to one side with his foot to make room in the circle and placed the new chair beside it. He smiled and gestured to it with his hand.

  "If you don't mind, that is," he said.

  Scout smiled and sat down, placing her backpack underneath the chair.

  "My name's Joey," he said.

  "Scout. Thank you," she said.

  Joey looked a little like a boy she knew back home, someone she had been friends with in high school before everything happened. He had the same wavy, long hair over his ears and the same stretched-out, skinny build.

  "Great to see everyone again," Tara said, taking a moment to look at everyone in the circle and smile at them. There was something about her that really drew Scout in. She had the warmth of the dream kindergarten teacher that Scout had never had. "I just want to welcome a new friend to the group."

  Scout's face started to turn red.

  "This young lady's name is Scout and this is her first time here," Tara said. "We all remember how much courage it took to come to our own first meeting, I'm sure. I'm not going to ramble on and embarrass you too much," she said, looking at Scout and no doubt seeing her leg bouncing on the spot, "but I just wanted us all to take a moment to welcome you and to congratulate you on taking this big step. It might sound silly since we don't know you and you don't know us, but we all know how hard it is to step through that door and open your life up to strangers and to ask for help. So, I know I speak for everyone when I say this: we're proud of you, Scout."

  Tara started to applaud and the others joined in, adding their own welcomes and glad-to-have-yous.

  "Thank you," Scout mumbled.

  "Who would like to speak first?" Tara said. "What's been going on with everyone?"

  The group quietly looked around at one another, waiting to see who wanted to speak.

  "Eileen?" Tara said. "We haven't seen you in a while. Would you like to tell us what's been going on?"

  Eileen nodded and stood up. The group applauded her and Scout joined them in doing so.

  "Maybe you could quickly introduce yourself, too," Tara said, "if you're comfortable with that?"

  "Of course," Eileen said. She fidgeted with her hands as she began. She nodded to Scout. "I'll try to keep it short. It's quite a thing and it's been going on for some time."

  Scout smiled at her and hoped she wasn't about to address her whole story to her alone. She needn't have worried, however, as much of it was spoken in the direction of Eileen's sandals. She didn't meet the gaze of many people in the group, only really looking at Tara for extended periods.

  "Well, I'm a Detroit girl, born and raised," Eileen said, "and I must have lived in almost every neighborhood of her in the last ten years. If you're new to the city and you need to know where something is, I'm your gal. I know this city like the back of my hand, because I've called almost every district in it my home at some point."

  Joey, beside Scout, was quietly nodding and looking serious, as if he knew that what was coming was about to take a bad turn.

  "I've said it so many times now that it doesn't sound strange," Eileen said. She looked at Scout and smiled, almost apologetically, and said, "I am haunted. You've heard of haunted houses, I'm sure. I don't know why you're here, so I don't want to presume anything. But I am a haunted person."

  Scout saw Eileen's smile drift away, and in that she could see that her smile had never really been there to begin with. It was a mask.

  "At least once a week - sometimes three or four times a week - I'm visited by a spirit while I'm asleep," Eileen continued. "This spirit, it... assaults me."

  Eileen played with the corners of her cardigan sleeves.

  "Sexually," Eileen added. "This began about ten years ago. At first I thought it was my house, so I moved. The spirit followed me. I kept trying to outrun it, to move often enough that it just left me alone, but it never has. I'm beginning to think it never will. I've struggled with this in the past. I've tried to take my own life twice. But now I simply accept it as part of my life. This spirit hasn't killed me and it hasn't broken me completely. There is a lot of good in my life, and it can't touch that. I have my grandson. I have these people here in this group. I have a lot to be thankful for."

  Eileen looked to Tara.

  "It's been hard these last six weeks," Eileen said. "I've been bed-bound for a lot of it, but your calls and your visits mean the world to me. At my lowest, after my fall, I was stuck in bed and I had wet myself and I couldn't get out to clean myself and my bed up and I was really doubting everything. I was in agony when I was awake and I was deathly scared of another visit in the night. I really, truly doubted my purpose in this world, that I even have one. But through prayer and your help, I made it through, stronger than before. I wouldn't have made it without you all. I might have broken my hip, but that baby has got steel pins holding it together now!"

  Tara smiled, stood, and walked over to Eileen. She embraced her and kissed her on the cheek. The group applauded. Scout felt tears hit her eyes and tried to blink them away.

  Scout looked at the people around her. For the first time in the long time, she didn’t feel threatened by her surroundings.

  But, more than that, Scout felt safe.

  Chapter 3

  The bus rumbled Scout’s brain into numbness as she lay the side of her head against the window. The elderly Hispanic driver threw the bus around corners with reckless abandon. The smell of stale urine and old takeout, together with the tinny beating of a teenager’s earphones, periodically assaulted her senses, but Scout softly closed her eyes. She tried to put aside the guilt of skipping out on Tara after the meeting’s end.

  She’ll understand, Scout told herself over and over.

  Scout waited until everyone was done with their stories. Three more people spoke and Scout took a donut in each of the breaks in between. She offered Tara what little money she had left for donuts, but was refused.

  Tara could sense her hunger. Of that, Scout was sure.

  The high school principle with the moustache talked about how he was seeing his dead wife in the reflective surfaces in his house periodically. She was angry and met his gaze with hate-filled eyes and something approaching murderous intent, but the physical activity had been limited so far to pushing him down the stairs one time. She had been haunting him for three years since her botched but successful suicide in which she failed to slash her wrists and so ended up laying
her arms over a train track, severing them completely and bleeding to death in frightful agony.

  His name was Michael and he was living in fear.

  The next story was from Jess, the younger woman with glasses and the bobble hat. Jess smiled her way through as she described how her husband had found God after their house had been “cleansed” by a priest. He was now talking to himself in the bathroom and drawing crucifixes on all the white surfaces in their apartment. Jess was worried he was undergoing a nervous breakdown after a two-year haunting which saw them living in a home under attack from poltergeists and too poor to go anywhere else. Jess smiled the most when she talked about how aggressive her husband was becoming during everyday conversations. So convinced was he that his actions were preventing the hauntings from reoccurring that he had quit his job to focus on prayer. He demanded, and got, absolute and uninterrupted silence from Jess at all times.

  Jess was a prisoner in her own home.

  The last person to speak was Joey. Joey grew up in an orphanage on the outskirts of town. It was housed in a hundred-year-old former children’s asylum where the children had been beaten and tortured and locked away until they were old enough to know how to kill themselves. Malevolent spirits remained and tormented the orphans, Joey especially, and he carried with him the scars of his experience in the orphanage and images of the experiences of the dead, whose rotten corpses he would see stalking the halls of what was to be his home from ages seven to twelve.

  Joey slept every night with lights on and suffered with pedophobia, an all-consuming fear of children which sent him into screaming fits beyond his control when coming within twenty feet of them. He was doing well and starting hypnotic therapy, but he had recently suffered an episode on Halloween night when he panicked at the sound of every knock and call of “Trick or treat!” at his door.

  After the stories and the updates, with consolations and words of encouragement from the others, the meeting came to an end. People embraced one another and struck up conversations about movies and dates they had been on and other everyday activities, washing away the extreme emotions of the meeting with mundane small talk. Scout stayed on the periphery and took another donut, casually putting it in her pocket. She wanted it to look casual enough so that she didn’t seem too invested and not so casual that it looked like she was trying to steal it unnoticed.