And then I hear you say, from deep within the tunnel…
Yes.
The word hangs there, and it’s my voice. But it doesn’t register as a real word. Like everything else, even in the context of a dream, you sound like me and you send everything in the only way that’s possible. It makes complete sense but, at the same time, things don’t seem to add up.
They don’t need to add up.
They just are.
And then the words “How are you feeling?” they reach the very back of the tunnel. I can hear them in this dream, which means you could hear them when I said them.
I hear a rumbling noise, a low voice.
It seems like you’re getting closer to that person, to me.
I’m sitting there, all deep in thought, totally not seeing you in the dark of the tunnel. You get closer and closer and closer.
When I move to leave and say, “See you around,” you’re right there with me.
I see what you see and from where you stood: you could see my breath in the air, chilled, but I didn’t seem to notice that night.
You watch me walk back.
You watch and I watch.
And then you say…
See you around.
Next thing I know I’m on the couch, awake.
8
I WAKE UP HAPPY AND IT’S WEIRD, YEAH. I REMEMBER everything and it kind of, well, it gives me something to think about. It’s all going to end at some point, right? Like, I could be like everyone else and just be like, “The exorcism is next week.” I could be like that but I think I’m way beyond that kind of stuff. It’ll happen, yeah, I’m not forgetting that, but really, this is my chance to learn more. This is my one chance to explore. I mean, seriously, after what happened after the party, after that dream, I’m so excited.
I wake up refreshed, feeling like I have a ton of energy.
Also bizarre, but I’ll take it. Can’t wait to see what happens next.
I go to my room, looking at the time on my phone and, damn, it’s early. But not early enough to see that H has changed some things around. I look in my closet and it’s kind of like, “Um, I used to have more clothes than this…”
But the laptop’s still there, on my desk. I walk over and look. I google some possession porn videos because maybe they’ll give me some understanding, I don’t know, and I end up watching this one that shows a before and after of someone’s possession. It’s mostly about the person’s exorcism. They don’t even go far enough to have any of the dreams, any of the lapses in time and consciousness and shit. They get it done quick, and the fact that they did really makes me feel better.
I say, “This one’s like all the others.”
And it’s not like I’m talking to myself. It really isn’t.
I don’t realize that I’m shivering, goose bumps on my arms and everything. I’m wearing only boxers and a T-shirt that’s been sweat through.
Again, I have to be like, “Um, I used to be wearing more clothes than this…” I scratch at my palms, some sort of rash maybe, but I push that to the side when I hear a car door close outside. I don’t want that person to see me at the window, so I do that thing where you hide at the side of the window and take short glances, not even, like, ten seconds each. I see a white car. Not Mom’s or Dad’s…
Second time I look, I see a familiar man.
Then the doorbell.
“Who the hell is that?”
But then I know. It clicks — Father Albert. It’s like the information was given to me.
You did that, didn’t you?
I stand there a second, curious to see if I’ll know… but nothing happens. The doorbell is pressed a second time.
Dammit. I put on some clothes, whatever I can find.
Running down the stairs, I say something like, “Does your kind actually get hurt by all that religious stuff?”
I’m in for a surprise when I open the door. One look at Father Albert and you tell me. No. It, like, holds there, as if right on Father Albert’s forehead, the word “no” hanging there. Like it’s you, trying to make me laugh.
“Greetings, Hunter,” Father Albert says.
The way he looks at me, I notice.
I can’t help but get angry when I see his face, how he just kind of judges me and acts all fake. I know that he thinks I’m sick and falling apart because of what’s happening. I know that it’s his job to be here, to help me, but the first thing he could do is just be real. Say it, man. Say it: You look like shit.
I reply, “Hi,” and I feel like shit when I say it.
Funny how it all switches when someone like Father Albert shows up.
He walks into the foyer, hands folded, Bible pressed against his chest. He looks around, and I just know that he’s trying to sense where H is.
“He’s looking for you,” I whisper.
I think about what might happen. I really don’t know what’s going to happen. I wonder…
“How are you feeling on this fine morning, Hunter?”
What do you want me to say? I shrug and say the first thing that comes to mind: “I’m really tired but I’m, uh, fine. Just fine.”
Why is it so hard to speak? Like, it was really hard to just get that out. It’s like I don’t even want to keep up appearances. It’s like, whatever.
Father Albert with his fake grin. “On this morn, we will begin our process. First, I’d like to bless the house. This will not take long.”
“Okay,” I say, and Father Albert leads the way.
I whisper, “What does this do?”
I kind of expect H to respond, but then Father Albert’s like, “This will help cleanse your place of rest. A home should not be invaded. It is a sacred place, for it is where you have chosen to occupy and place meaning. This is the reason an unclean spirit will attach itself to a location. It will try to get your attention. Once it gets your attention, it will attempt to make contact. Once it does that, as we have discussed previously, during our meeting, it will begin the principles of infestation.”
“Infestation,” I mumble.
“Mm-hmm.” Father Albert nods, walking into the kitchen. “You will experience a variety of advanced symptoms. One of the most popular symptoms is a late-stage sense of lethargy. Additionally, cognitive dissonance.”
Father Albert stops, puts a hand on my shoulder, and I want to slap it off. I want to say something like, Stop being so fake. Tell me how far gone I am. Just tell me and you’ll still get that payday.
He leans forward. “Pray with me.”
I’m not praying with you.
He makes the sign of the cross, folds his hands together, and starts on some prayer that I really can’t stand to listen.
I’m mumbling stuff like, “This really works, yeah, really?”
But when I hear a rumbling from deep within the house, I start thinking that maybe H is wrong. Father Albert really can hurt him. It’s kind of like… a double take. I’m like, Wait? What’s happening?
Father Albert walks into the next room, the family room, and starts making hand gestures.
He doesn’t stop praying.
I hear the same rumbling. It’s getting louder.
I close my eyes and I don’t know why. My bottom lip starts to quiver and I don’t know why. A lot of things happen and I don’t know why.
But the fact that I don’t know doesn’t seem to bother me.
Father Albert says my name, and I open my eyes. He wants me to follow him upstairs.
As we do, he continues the prayer. He blesses every room, but we step into only mine. Right as he walks in, he stops praying. Father Albert notices the drop in temperature but doesn’t say anything. He kind of looks around my room in a weird way, and I can tell that this isn’t normal. I watch from the hallway, completely separate from the fact that he is in my room, judging my things, and more than all of that, he’s judging me.