Chapter 4
four
. . .
With no other idea on how to begin, I start walking.
I’m not sure where I’m going, but there has to be an end to this void, right?
Or is that an oxymoron? Like, it’s my mind.
It’d be nice to think it’s endless, but we all have limits.
However, I’m realizing it may be more difficult to reach this limit than I thought.
I walk and walk and walk and walk. Each step I take echoes around me, bouncing around the space before fading into the distance. Where is this end I’m searching for?
I can’t stand this. Wake the hell up, Lacy!
I start running, sprinting as fast as my legs will take me, still only seeing darkness before me, not actually feeling my feet hit the ground.
I manage to pick up the pace even more and…
SMACK. I slam full-body into a wall, springing backward and landing hard on my ass.
Ow. That hurt. I’m semi-convinced my nose is pressed flat against my face, Persian cat-like.
I shake off the pain and pull myself to my feet.
There’s no visible wall before me—still the vast emptiness.
I inch forward with my hand outstretched, expecting the wall to be gone.
However, my palm soon touches a cool, smooth surface.
I run my hand down the wall, fingers chilled by what feels like metal.
I always have said my mind is a steel trap.
I continue to trace my fingers on the wall, stretching up and down, trying to touch it all, when I finally find what I don’t know I’m hunting for: a seam.
My fingers drag down that seam until I reach a corner, the line now stretching horizontally.
I trace that until I find a lip. It’s thin, jutting out an inch and running the length of my palm, but it’s there. I dig my nails under and yank upward.
The light that bursts through nearly knocks me back on my ass.
I squint, already accustomed to the darkness.
I’m looking through a curved window, about the size of a manhole cover.
Beyond the window, the sun is shining overhead and trees litter the space.
I recognize the area. It’s a hiking trail I would frequent back when I had a dog.
Well, it was my ex-boyfriend’s dog, but I loved him more than life itself.
The dog, I mean. The boyfriend was so-so.
All of my relationships have been. I don’t like to get attached, so I keep them so-so.
The screen is moving forward, like one of those walking path videos for treadmills.
I watch as the view shifts to a tree. No, more specifically, shifts toward a bug on that tree.
I observe a hand—hang on, that looks like my hand.
I recognize the chipped blue nail polish.
How is that my hand? I watch as my hand reaches out to the bug and scoops it up with the pointer finger.
“Put that down!” I shriek, layers of bug ickiness smearing over me.
I see my hand flinch, but the bug stays on my finger, crawling around and moving up my palm in the direction of my arm.
“Oh my god,” I whine. “Drop the bug!”
I hear a sigh. Then the same deep voice I heard before says, “I’d rather not drop the bug. Why are you so close? Usually, people stay much deeper in their mind prisons. Actually, usually, they don’t speak.”
Great, he’s still here. Is he…? He must be controlling my body. I have to say, as dreams go, at least this one is inventive. I’m rather impressed.
“Why am I…? Ugh! Why are you picking up bugs in my body?! Get that off of me!” A terrible thought occurs to me. I slap my hand over my mouth and say through thinly parted fingers, “Oh god. You’re not going to eat it, are you?”
The voice scoffs. “No, why would I eat it? It’s not like it’s a larva. It’s not going to offer any good nutrients.”
I observe, unblinking, as my hand flicks the bug off my arm.
The voice continues, “Well, since I have you here and we’re talking about nutrients, you’re not a vegan, are you?
It’s not that I would have any problem compromising your morals, I just don’t want to deal with the absolute war your body would start if I put any meat or dairy products in it that you haven’t eaten in years. ”
I don’t answer, because I don’t understand what’s happening. Why can’t I wake up? I don’t want to play along anymore. I want to be awake.
My hand, my outside hand, comes closer to the window, lifting to knock lightly against my skull, my outside skull, creating a booming reverberation in my void, ringing so loudly I slap my palms over my ears.
“Hey, hello? Vegan, yes or vegan, no?”
I grit my teeth and drag my hands from my ears. “I’m not vegan.”
“Any allergies?”
“I’ll die if I get stung by a bee.”
“Ah, good to know. I was planning on getting honey straight from the hive later, so scratch that plan.”
I cross my arms. “Was that a joke? Are you trying to make jokes right now?”
I can practically feel the grin. “I’m hilarious. You better get used to it. Now, I think that’s all I need from you. Please, I ask again, shut up.”
The window slams shut, and I am again thrown into darkness. Oh, I despise this man. Who is he supposed to be? A manifestation of all the assholes I’ve dealt with in my life?
I yank the window back open to see trees again—lower though, like I’m sitting on the ground. “What is happening?” I ask for what feels like the thousandth time.
Another sigh. Oh gee, I’m sorry for being so annoying, but this is my mind. Usually, I’m allowed to be as infuriating as I want in here.
“Just tell me why I can’t wake up,” I plead, adding as a desperate afterthought, “please.”
The scene before me goes dark, then brightens, as though I’ve closed and reopened my eyes.
The voice says quietly, “Promise not to freak out?”
“No.”
I see the sky for a second before I’m staring at tree trunks again. He rolled his eyes. My eyes? So confusing.
“Can’t say I expected a different response. Fine. It’s simple. You’re not asleep. You’ve been possessed.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. “Possessed? What do you mean ‘possessed?’”
“I’m a demon. I’ve possessed you.”
I open my mouth then close it. No. That can’t be right. I verify, “I’m not sleeping?”
“Nope. Possessed.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
“Prove it,” I spit.
“Uh, you being stuck in a prison of your own mind and me controlling your body is proof enough. Are we good?”
I don’t even have time to process this before I start yelling again. “No, we are not good! Get out! I did not consent to being possessed!”
The scene before me moves side to side, like I’m weighing my head. “Well, technically, you did consent.”
My fists squeeze tightly enough that my nails will leave impressions in my palms. Or, they would in the outside world.
Carefully, I stress, “I’m sorry, I don’t recall being a part of that conversation.
Did you say, ‘Hey, Lacy, may I please possess you?’ and did I say, ‘Sure, Mr. Demon, come on in?’ Nope. Don’t recall.”
Possessed? Possessed. I’ve been possessed? I have not been possessed. Impossible.
“You are correct. We did not have that conversation. You did consent, though. Legally. You know the Terms and Conditions everyone doesn’t read when signing up for anything online? You consented when you signed up for some social media site back in 2013.”
“That’s bullshit,” I snip.
“I don’t write the contracts.”
“I don’t care. Let me out of it.”
“No.”
“But…” My fists squeeze tighter as I long for that pinch of pain refusing to break through—something to wake me up, snap me out of this.
“But what?” he prods sharply.
I have a long list of buts, however, the one that feels the most important slips from my lips. “I promised I would call my sister today.” The thought of her rakes pain through my chest.
He…I…we stand, and I watch my hands brush the forest floor off my jeans. “I’ll shoot her a text.”
My voice cracks in desperation as I beg, “No, but I have to call her. I promised. You have to let me go so I can call her. Please.”
“No. Sorry. I’ve explained the situation. Now, I’m done. Stop talking.”
The window slams shut again. With a grunt, I immediately yank it back open. He has to let me go. I need to figure out a way. Perhaps if I annoy him enough, he’ll un-possess me.
Possessed. I’ve been possessed. I’m a believer in the supernatural world—of course, I am. I’m a ghost hunter. But this…this is too much for me to comprehend.
We continue walking through the forest. An intuitive part of my brain can sense his movements, his expressions, even if I can’t see them nor am mirroring them from in the void. This body is mine, and I know what it’s doing, even if I am not the one controlling it.
I clear my throat, knowing that begging and crying will get me nowhere. I have to fight. “Are you hiking? Is that what’s happening right now? A little demonic frolic through the woods?”
He stops in his tracks and folds over in annoyance. “You literally never stop talking, do you?”
“What can I say? This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been treated as a pest.”
He’s quiet for a beat as he straightens but doesn’t yet continue walking. “You realize what you just said is really sad, right?”
“Oh, shut up.” My face is burning. I meant I’m not afraid to annoy people, is all. Nag to get what I want. Sure, I also have experience with feeling unwanted, left behind, but so does everyone.
I can feel him grinning as he marches forward. “Fine. If you must know, we’re heading to a cave in the area. Just to do a little ritual sacrifice. The nether region tends to get suspicious if they don’t track me taking lives often enough.”
Nether region? Is he…is he talking about Hell? If he is, do they actually call it that? I hate that.
I’m afraid to ask for clarification, so I don’t. He keeps talking.
“Luckily, they can’t distinguish the difference between humans and most other living things with eyes. I was going to kill that bug, but you made me get rid of it. Perhaps I’ll find a deer instead. A little fawn. They are quite cute, don’t you think? I’ll stuff it when I’m done.”
Asshole. “Can’t you find another bug?”
“I did see a butterfly a bit ago. Maybe I can use that.”
“Asshole,” I snip aloud. Then my brain backtracks. “Wait, do you not kill humans?”
“Not really.”
“What does ‘not really’ mean?”
He yanks a handful of leaves from a tree branch we pass, crumpling them in his hand and letting them fall to join the rest of the dead leaves on the forest floor. “It means no, but how uncool is it for a demon to say they don’t kill humans?”
My brow scrunches. He’s worried about sounding “uncool?” Not that I’m anywhere near an expert, but that seems…odd.
“You’re a weird dude,” I say.
“I’ve been told.”
We soon come across another bug. He picks it up and deposits it in a jar he pulls from a duffel bag on his hip.
We keep walking in silence. Eventually, we find the cave he must have been talking about earlier and kneel down inside it.
He pulls a lantern and a piece of white chalk from the duffel bag.
He lights the lantern with a silver lighter—
“That’s my dad’s,” I say, voice thick. Throughout my childhood, he would carry that lighter around like a safety blanket. It reminded him of how strong he was to quit smoking, holding the trigger for his worst habit in the palm of his hand. Not that it mattered in the end.
Now, I always carry it around with me. He may have left me, but the lighter won’t.
The lighter is brought closer to my window as he examines it. “I’ll be careful with it,” he says.
“Sure, you will,” I mutter bitterly.
Next, he draws a circular symbol on the cave’s stone floor. It’s full of sharp lines and jagged curves. I’ve never seen anything like it—the sight of it alone sending a metaphorical shiver down my spine.
“The symbol is an offering to Hell. I kill the bug, they get a tiny kick in power, and I’m in the clear for a bit,” he offers without my having to ask.
The bug in the jar is brought back into my sightline, so I close the window. It’s only a bug, but I’d still rather not watch. Distantly, I hear him muttering. I don’t understand what’s being said.
“I’m done,” he says after a little while.
I reopen the window as he moves out of the cave. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He shields his eyes as we re-enter into the bright sun.
“Can you let me go now?” I ask softly.
“Nope.”
That answer doesn’t surprise me. My lips purse before I ask carefully, “Since I’m trapped with you, can you at least tell me your name?”
He chuckles. “Tonkitgrol, but you can call me Kit.”
“Kit,” I say, mulling over his name. “Okay, well, Kit, so we’re clear, I hate you.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”