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My body is beyond uncomfortable. My limbs hurt as they’re extended. This is far beyond my body, though. This is the most pain I've ever been in in my entire life and I think I was going to be sick again.
When I close my eyes, I'm miles away from all of this. I’m at home. My parents are there.
It’s my 10th birthday.
My parents scream surprise as soon as I walk into my house, a large chocolate cake in the middle of the dining table and all of my classmates standing around by the wooden chairs. Sunlight streams through the windows. Everyone sings happy birthday as my dad strums along on his acoustic guitar.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.
I smile, drifting into the love and warmth of my house.
But when I open my eyes, I'm not there anymore.
I’m in Alana’s mansion, in a tiny, dark room again. Surrounded by the exorcists, all of whom are saying things I can’t understand. I hear whimpering, male voices overlapping each other.
I’m not happy.
Everything hurts.
Both my parents are dead.
Everyone is here because of me.
No one here is happy.
I know that for a fact, I can feel it in my bones.
I hear retching, and I'm surprised to realize that it's not my own retching. Someone else in this room sounds like they need to throw up, but I don't know why.
I don’t think I look that bad. Not yet. Unless it’s been days, it could’ve been days. I’m confused. It's hard for me to tell anything that’s happening right now.
When I try to look at the source of the sound, I can feel the sun on my skin, the heat prickling me.
Hurting me.
It glares to the point where I have to shield my eyes. I don't have free hands to do it with, so there's no way for me to do that except to tightly close my eyes, until they hurt.
In the back of my head, I can hear laughter. It's the, I agree. It's kinda laughter that you only hear when somebody's upset. There's no humor in their voice, they're obviously about to lose it.
“They will be so much better off without you," the person who was just laughing says. It only takes me a few seconds to realize that it's my mother's voice.
It’s not her.
It can’t be her.
But I believe her–or whoever has her voice. I want to argue with her but I don’t.
I can’t.
"If it wasn't for you, we would be home by now," Ray says. "I wouldn't be hurt.”
"And I wouldn't be dead." That's my mom. That’s the thing that’s talking like my mom and she's confirming everything I have taught so far.
"If it weren't for you, I would still be going to heaven," Luke says. He sounds so upset that I want to go over there and give him a hug.
But when I open my eyes again, he’s towering over me, his dark blue eyes shining red in the darkness.
And there’s nothing for me to do but scream.
