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I focused on the important part. “The man I helped? Did he survive?” Only one percent of people survived possessions, so I tried to prepare myself for the worst-case scenario. Although he seemed okay when I conked out, was he still?
The nurse nodded, patting the blanket absently. “Oh, sure, we checked him out and released him. You’re just amazing. Getsome rest. You have two cracked ribs, contusions everywhere, and a concussion. You’ll heal, though.”
She left the room, and my breath caught even as my heart raced. She’d left me alone, I realized. Totally alone with my demon for the first time in a long time. I closed my eyes.
Okay. I can do exorcisms.
You won’t again.
No, I probably wouldn’t. I would love to help. Like Danvers, I had to search for meaning in my otherwise problematic life. Somehow, if I could figure things out, I thought my time would at least have mattered.
You don’t matter.
For a second, I thought I would cry, but the impulse passed. Sadness filled me, and the overwhelming hopelessness of being possessed. I understood the important basic truths about myself—nothing made me important. Sad and pathetic was my life, and if nothing else, the knowledge at least seemed familiar.
I closed my eyes.
The memory of my possession flooded me, fresh for the first time in a very long time. She wanted me to remember every moment of it, to experience how horrible it truly was, again, just in case I forgot.
Although it wasn’t likely Icouldforget. Being possessed by a demon was memorable and awful.
The night started off okay. Terror followed me all the way to Ryker’s home, but I told myself it was good nerves. I was finally going to tell him how I felt.Woman’- upas my roommate Kat called it, and just tell him I liked him. I knew the words I would use:Ryker, I’ve been in love with you for years. I wanted you to know. Nothing has to change, not if you don’t want things to change, but I wanted to be honest with you. Tell you my truth. Well, what do you think?
I practiced the short speech over and over in my head. I ran through it once more with my eyes closed outside his door, with my hand on the knob. Then I steeled my back and walked to his small bungalow house. Although his space wasn’t huge, he owned it himself, a concept that blew my mind. I still worked temp jobs while trying to finish my associates degree. I would finish it soon, and then I’d see what I could do from there.
My mom took up so much of my time.
He’d given me a key to his house, and although I’d never used it before, I thought about it for a second. Normally, I tended to knock on his bedroom window when I came by, just a thing we did. He used to climb in and out of my bedroom when we were kids, just for fun, because we lived in a one-story home. Should I use the key, knock on the window like normal, or knock at his front door?
I’d brought a bottle of wine with me. If he was interested in me, too, maybe we’d celebrate. It wasn’t expensive—I picked it up at the gas station—so it wasn’t a tragedy either way. We weren’t fancy, and even if his life seemed to be improving at a rate faster than my own, it was hard for me to imagine that Ryker would ever want to pretend to be anything else. I loved that about him.
I stopped at his window, my palms slick from nerves. Humid air blanketed the night, so sweat dripped slightly down my cheek, and I brushed it away impatiently. I blinked, breathing in once to calm myself before I held my hand up to knock and froze.
There, inside the cute little bungalow, I could clearly see my best friend—who I had secretly been in love with my whole life—being ridden with rhythmic and enthusiastic hip thrusts by a girl I knew from school. Jasmine, my brain supplied helpfully—richer than us, because her parents owned several convenience stores. Beautiful—far more beautiful than me with her headthrown back and hands on her hips as her breasts bounced with perky fervor.
I turned around fast, blinking despite the fact I couldn’t seem to suck in a breath. I wasn’t a voyeur, and if I was, that wouldn’t be an image I wanted, yet it burned itself into my brain with all the permanence of a tattoo. My feet pounded against the earth, the shock of the impact of running hitting me before I realized I was even in motion. I ran and ran until I had to stop to wheeze and crumple against a wall.Where am I?I didn’t even know, and I wasn’t sure it mattered since I couldn’t see past the tears flooding my eyes and turning the world wobbly. Leaning against a red brick building, I cried as I gasped for air. Sobs. Big. Ugly. Pathetic, gasping noises punctuated with horrible little hiccupy wails.
He is with someone else.
Of course he is. It was Ryker—gorgeous and fun. Smart. Driven. Helpful. Everything I loved about him? Someone else would love those things, too. I’d waited too long.
No, he never would’ve wanted me that way.
If I doubted for a second, all I had to do was look at Jasmine and myself. There wasn’t even a competition—she won, hands down.
On my next shaky sob, I smelled the sulfur. It was such a cliché, but they’re clichés for a reason. I stood up straighter, and my next inhalation burned with the strength of the rotten egg scent. I started to claw at my skin. Looking around for help, I realized I was completely alone, not another soul anywhere nearby to help. I started to shake.
Terror robbed me of breath, but I couldn’t run anymore if I tried. I stared openmouthed while a creature out of nightmares appeared before me. Wings, enormous leathery wings that stirred my hair with the slightest motion from her. A red body covered partially with thick, shiny black hair that didn’t coverher pointed ears—she actually smiled at me. Turned her head, the movement more insect than human, and then did it again, baring black teeth to glitter at me with menace. Clawed fingers clicked together, the nails rattling with a sound like old bones, and even though I wanted to run, I couldn’t. I stood frozen in place and watched the way the light shifted across her…fur? I’d never seen something so horrible nor imagined such a thing could exist.
She grabbed me then and launched herself into my body. Hot pokers assaulted every cell as she took over control of them at a mitochondrial level. I bent in agony as a knife plunged into my stomach. No, it didn’t. There was no knife, or at least no physical weapon. Blood dripped from my nose as I tried to make sense of the conflicting sensory inputs. Soon, I convulsed on the ground, unable to even control my legs well enough to stand.
You’re mine now. We’re going to be so cozy together, you sad and pathetic creature.
I opened my eyes, and I found myself back in my hospital room in the present. The agony of it kept muscles dancing across my arms, and I gritted my teeth. Pain. Maybe I was lucky to have her? When I was good, she could make it so I wouldn’t feel any of it.
She didn’t want to stay there, not in a hospital bed, and she would likely keep me in agony until I obeyed. The tent was better, and if I wanted to make up for how badly I’d fucked up, I would go there.
Okay. I could do that. It almost seemed a relief to at least have a plan. I yanked out my IV, surprised when the view seemed familiar somehow. Blood flowed down my arm, gushing. It was okay. She could fix that. We grabbed bandages, and she wrapped me up—a little tightly—but it made her happy when I didn’t complain at the bite of pain.
