Chapter Forty-Five
Declan
“You keep saying I’ll never fail you again,” Daphne’s recorded voice whimpers.
"That's it!" I shout, recognizing what Daphne is saying. Those are the same words I hear at the end of my nightmare as the demented, fiery-eyed demon plunges its blade into my stomach.
You'll never fail me again.
"I know what she's talking about, Doc," I say, wishing I didn’t sound so excited.
"Are you saying you know where Daphne Brooks is located?” he asks.
"No, Doc," I reply. "I only know what she means. I’ve heard those same words thousands of times."
"Really?" The doctor is justifiably skeptical. "Do tell."
The words, though already in my head, strike my ears with a chill.
I’m thrust into a kneeling position in the middle of my bed.
The motion is forceful, jerking me fully into consciousness.
When my eyes shudder open, I find myself staring at my reflection in enormous mirrors lining my double-wide closet from end to end.
The fog in my mind begins to clear, and my heart nearly stops.
He's there. Behind me.
How?
At first it looks like my father, but my father is dead. Yet, there he stands. It isn’t until I look closer that I realize it’s not my father at all, unless my father suddenly has bright red eyes glowing in his head.
Fuck.
"You'll never fail me again," the dark figure whispers with authority.
Springing from my mattress to turn and face my demon.
I’m met with agonizing pain in my gut—the same pain I feel at the bottom of those endless stairs.
Blood spews from my abdomen like liquid from a hydraulic pump as my attacker withdraws the blade.
I try to apply pressure to the wound, but nothing helps.
In the movies, this is where I’d sit up in bed, and the audience would groan, thinking, "I knew it was a dream." But this isn’t a movie. I’m not waking up.
Unsure of what to do, I flee the bedroom and run down the hallway.
At the end of the seemingly endless corridor is a bathroom.
Once inside, I lock the door and turn on the light.
My hands and clothes are drenched in the thick molasses that was once my insides.
I use my left hand to turn on the hot water to wash the blood off, but it isn’t working.
Soap, shampoo, rubbing alcohol. None of it makes a difference.
This can’t be real.
In disbelief, I cover my eyes, take a deep breath, and look in the mirror again.
It’s… gone.
There’s no blood. No wound. No man in my bedroom. Something in my mind manifested my nightmares into my consciousness, and I couldn’t tell the difference. For the first time in years, I’m truly afraid.
“Don’t you see, Doc,” I say. “These words are substantive. Daphne and I are connected. In what way? I don’t know. But both Daphne and I are, well were, plagued by something dark. Something evil. And it’s obsessed with my failure. Why else would we suffer from the same hauntings?”
“I find myself saying this a lot.” The doctor lets out a long sigh. “But I’m sorry, Declan. I thought I had a better handle on what we’re dealing with.”
“What do you mean, doc?” I asked. “We’re finally on to something.
We can’t just stop now. Although I didn’t grasp it before, it’s clear this is why I came to you.
Unexplainable things have been happening to me for countless years.
And then I end up in your… custody? This isn’t the first time you’ve dealt with someone in my predicament.
We are meant to conquer this together, Doc, I can feel it. ”
“We aren’t stopping,” the doctor says. “But, I’m tired, and I think we could use a break before going further.
” I sense conflict, as Dr. Campos seems torn.
He appeared to agree with me, wanting to hear more.
And he knows time is in short supply. At least for me.
But I’m sure he’s hesitant to repeat past mistakes.
Alone in the dark again, a thought reverberates in my mind.
Daphne knew about it.
Sitting cross-legged on the cold ground near the large steel door, I rock back and forth in place, too nervous to attempt to find my way across the room.
“If you keep down this path, Missster Roberts.” Miss Paxon’s voice returns. “You’ll never see the light of day.”
“Prove it,” I demand, fresh out of patience.
“Nothing good can come from talking to that hypocrite of a doctor,” she replies, ignoring my challenge.
“Whatever you are,” I state confidently. “You’re wrong. You’ll see. The doc and I are going to win this fight.”
“You’d be wise to yield to my warnings, boy.” Her voice crackles slightly, and she sounds more like a man for a beat. “You have two choices. Do as I say, and maybe you’ll live a bit longer. Or, ignore me, and find yourself in an earlier grave.”
“And I suppose you're going to be the one to kill me then?” I demand, my voice resonating off the cold, damp walls of the obscure room.
My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a reminder of the uncertainty swirling around me.
“Why should I listen to anything you say?
I have no idea who you really are or what you're capable of.
I don't even know where I am right now. For all I know, you could be another one of the doctor's elaborate parlor tricks, designed to test my willpower, to see how far I can be pushed. Well, I'm done. You hear me? Done.”
The silence that follows is thick and suffocating, and I assume, like before, that she's slipped away into the shadows.
But I don't care anymore. The isolation wraps around me like a heavy cloak, and the cruelty that accompanies it distresses my resolve.
I'm determined to survive this night, clinging to the hope that, come morning, the doctor and I will piece together a solution to unravel the tangled web of nightmares, the mystery of the missing girl, the doctor’s long-lost friend, and the sinister shadows that haunt me.
I continue to rock back and forth on the chilled floor, trying to anchor myself in a memory both bittersweet and comforting—my grandfather, the towering figure of wisdom and strength I always admired.
I can almost see him, sitting in his favorite armchair by the fireplace, the soft glow of the flames dancing in his eyes as he shared stories of resilience and courage.