Page 115 of The Devil and His Ghost

We still hadn’t talked about that day, the one where he’d broken one too many promises, resulting in my running one final time. Or at least, I’d thought it would be one final time until he appeared here. Since then, we’d been dancing around this huge thing between us, and while I’d initially been okay with pretending that day hadn’t happened, I wasn’t so sure anymore. If we talked about what went terribly wrong, could we change our story’s outcome?

What if we could be together and be happy?

What if I let go of fear and fully trusted him?

What if, what if, what if?

“I’m going up to the roof,” I announced. He looked up at me, and there was no missing how exhausted he appeared. “You should rest. I’ll take Catsper with me so you can sleep. Come on, boy.”

Catsper meowed and nuzzled Xander before leaping into the air. He hopped through the air alongside me, and he made himself at home once we reached the roof. I sat crisscrossed with the phantom cat stretched out next to me, his one eye closed like he was sunbathing. While patting his head, I briefly wondered if he could feel the sun’s warmth as a ghost. After gathering some strength from my ghost kitty, I took a deep breath and opened the chart.

Hernandez-Gonzalez, Maria.

I snapped to attention as an eager yet dreadful swarm of bees unleashed in my stomach. A quick look at the age of the patient expelled the brief hope I’d had that this was little Maria’s chart and her story finally. Though, it was a good thing this wasn’t her chart. I didn’t want that little girl to be a victim of the terror from down there.

The patient’s photo had been defaced. Someone had taken a sharp object and shredded the image right where the woman’s face should’ve been. All that could be seen in the black and white photo was long dark hair and a standard hospital gown on a frail torso. Whoever she was, she was thirty-seven years old and a quick glance at the earliest hand-written notes caught my interest.

Behavioural issues (including but not limited to: bursts of violence; homicidal tendencies; self-harm)

Multiple personality disorder

“I’m surprised they acknowledged multiple personalities back in the seventies, what with the Satanic panic just around the corner and all,” I mumbled to myself. “Most people would’ve waved that away as demonic possession like the indoctrinated idiots they were at the time.”

As I began to read more notes, I realized I’d spoken too soon.

Patient involuntarily admitted today at age twelve by parents after failed exorcism with their priest. Family claims demonic possession. Reasons given include but are not limited to patient’s bed-wetting; unexplained and abrupt tantrums that involve physical violence to self and others; inhuman sounds made during fits; and odd behaviour described as “more than one person inside her.” Patient has been admitted for psychiatric observation with no plan to leave at this time.

The progression of the notes on her only got more severe as she got older with constant evaluations, medications, therapies, procedures, and even isolations. Her different “identities” also showed up in the notes throughout time. Each of her seven personalities served a different purpose within her mind’s creation of it, and it was these personalities that got her taken down into the secret area below the hospital. Or rather, one of the seven—a personality that the doctors labeled as “The Evil One.”

The doctors working in the hidden bunker forced her to relive childhood abuse, not merely through talking, but by acting. Maria Hernandez-Gonzalez had been sexually abused as a child by the very priest who’d performed her exorcism. The first incident occurred at some church event, where the priest had lured her away with a cluster of balloons and the offer to have one if she followed him. The doctors would dress in priestly garb before assaulting her the same way she had been as a little girl. They wanted to bring out “The Evil One,” who often came out as a protective and violent response. They were trying to figure out how to command and control that identity.

The detailed and disgusting notes made me close the chart and tilt my head up to breathe in the fresh air. That did nothing to quell the churning in my stomach, nor stop the memories that came as I saw unwanted similarities with this Maria.

I laid flat on my back and stared up at the fading orange light of the sky. I closed my eyes for what felt like just a moment, but when I opened them again, the sky was black with hundreds of twinkling stars and a bright moon.

A shadow fell over me, but no sooner had it appeared than it moved to wordlessly lay down beside me. The gentle wind in the trees and Catsper’s content purring were the only sounds for some time. A pinky wound around mine with a reassuring squeeze, and with it, life seemed to flood back into me. I inhaled deeply to savor the crisp autumn air and the spicy fresh scent that was all Xander.

I wasn’t sure what possessed me to talk. Maybe it was because Iyla’s words had stayed with me, even after three days. Maybe it was because Xander had been more distant since the club, as though preparing for my inevitable fleeing as we neared the end of our goal. Maybe it was because after reading so much horrible shit, I couldn’t hold in all that vileness anymore. I needed to let some of it out.

I need to let him in.

“Do you know why I always hide in the closet?” I asked with my gaze trained on the distant constellations.

I heard Xander shift beside me before feeling the heat of his eyes on the side of my face. “I’ve wondered, but no. I don’t. Why do you always hide in the closet?”

A mirthless smile tugged on my lips. “Because that’s where monsters are supposed to hide. The boogy man. The scary creatures of nightmares. Closets were where monsters hid, so I did, too. I hoped one of them would show up and take me away like all the scary stories promised.” I squeezed my pinky tighter around his. “You’ll never know how happy I was when my Mr. Monster finally appeared … even if he didn’t take me away.”

The silence was heavy and lengthy. When Xander spoke, his voice was ragged. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t take you with me back then. You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could turn back time and change that.”

I finally rolled my head to the side to meet Xander’s pained onyx gaze. “I don’t blame you for leaving me behind, Xander,” I confessed gently. “After all, it’s because you didn’t take me with you, a seven year old girl, that I realized what was happening wasn’t right. It’s because you didn’t take me that I realized monsters don’t hide in closets but right in front of me as normal people.”

A tremble started in my limbs with the memory of those confusing, nightmarish moments. Stupid tears sprung to life behind my glasses. The feelings I’d kept buried within my dirtiest, most secure box rose up with a vengeance until there was nowhere for them to go but out.

“I thought it was a game,” I whimpered with a quivering lip. I shoved my free hand under my glasses to wipe at the onslaught of tears. “I thought it was normal, and I was the weird one for not liking what was happening.”

Xander rolled onto his side and grabbed me to pull me into his arms. He squeezed me hard as I trembled against his chest. Every inch of me crawled as though vile hands were back on me.

A scream and cry fought to get free from my throat at the same time. I clung to Xander harder, even as my hands felt covered in invisible grime. The feeling grew, creeping up my arms and over my body like a skin-tight film slowly encasing me in filth.