Chapter 29
twenty-nine
. . .
If I didn’t desperately need to claim my body before, I need to now. I referred to my body as the body. Not mine. Not even ours, which would have been better. The. Like it’s not even mine, like it’s not even me.
Kit is the reason I’m still alive, I understand that, but there has to be another way.
I’m willing to get an ugly-ass protection tattoo, like he mentioned.
I will line my house with salt. I will do everything in my power to keep myself safe—I’ll fight back on my own.
He and I need to exist separately, because I will not risk losing myself.
I regard the chalkboard I’ve been marking my days on. There are nine lines as we have entered our tenth day together.
We get back to my apartment, and Kit collapses on the couch. “Not being in control exhausts me.”
When he’s not in control, he’s weaker overall. He’s weaker right now.
I say casually, “I bet. Want to watch something?”
“Sure. Friends?”
I have a plan. Fuck. I have a plan—the one Matthias gave me. I force my voice to remain cool and calm. “How about something different? We’ve been watching a lot of Friends lately.”
“Oh. Sure.” Kit moves so he’s seated and grabs the remote, turning on a streaming service. He scans through the options. “What’s Crestwater?”
“I like Crestwater, but I’ve seen it. Kind of in the mood for something I haven’t seen yet.”
“Gotcha.”
He keeps scrolling, and that’s when I spot it. “What about Lore Hunters? Ever heard of that? It’s a million seasons long, but I’ve heard good things.” I cross my fingers.
“Huh, maybe?” He reads the description, lips mouthing the words. “Sounds interesting. Oh, it has some guy from a show Breanne was obsessed with about coffee and fall.” He sucks his teeth. “I bet she still is, actually. I haven’t…you know, I haven’t seen her since I came back.”
My chest softens, drawing me away from my plan as I focus on him. “Really? You haven’t checked on your family?”
“No. I went to California once. Stood outside my parents’ house for an hour, but never saw them. Then I decided I couldn’t see any of them. It was best to not know.”
“I’m sorry, Kit,” I say genuinely.
“Whatever. Let’s watch this.”
He clicks play. I purse my lips, but I don’t press further.
We watch an episode, and I keep my fingers crossed the entire time that he will like it. This is going to work, I tell myself. It has to. We need to make it to episode 4 of season 1. That’s all.
The episode ends, and Kit doesn’t say anything, but he lets the next episode play, so I think I’ve succeeded.
I hold my breath through the next two episodes.
Will he really want to watch four in one night?
He doesn’t sleep, so bingeing early in the morning is a reasonable ask.
We’ve definitely watched eight episodes of Friends in a row before, maybe ten.
When time is endless, it all fades together.
It turns out yes, because soon enough, the fourth episode, “Devil in Disguise,” starts to load.
I take a deep inhale in an attempt to steady my pounding heart. This plan right now is the sole thread I can grasp. So, I pinch it between my fingernails and pull. “Have you tried one of the seltzers Matthias brought by yet?”
Kit doesn’t pick up on my nerves. “No, I was saving them for you.”
“Well, try one. I’m curious what you think.” I don’t know for sure that there’s holy water in them, but I do hope that’s what Matthias meant in his note. Kit pauses the show to fetch one of the seltzers—the blackberry flavor—then sits back down. He cracks the can open and takes a sip.
“Huh,” he muses. “Not bad. Want to try?”
“Sure.”
He gives me access to my mouth and lets me take a sip. It’s been days since I’ve tasted anything, so it truly does taste heavenly—even if the blackberry flavoring is half-assed. It doesn’t taste particularly holy, though.
“Not bad,” I echo.
Kit clicks play and laughs when he realizes what the episode features as its monster of the week: a demon.
A demon rather similar to real demons. So similar, in fact, I think the writers may know something real about this world, but that’s beside the point.
“Hey! I’ve never felt so seen by a TV show. ”
I laugh with him and say, “We can skip the episode if you think they’re going to be offensive with their portrayal.” Why the hell did I suggest that? I cross my fingers, pleading he doesn’t agree.
“Nah, it’ll be funny, I’m sure.”
Thank god. I don’t know when the scene I’m waiting for is coming, so I’m at the edge of my seat for the majority of the episode, nails digging into my palms. I hope this works.
It’s my only plan besides slowly trying to take full control of my body and boot him out.
It’s taken me this long to get an arm, it may be a month or more before I can gain full control.
In the latter half of the episode, the main characters, Morgan and Calder, are on a train with the demon.
It has to be soon. They think the demon is possessing the conductor.
The conductor comes to the back of the train at the prompting of a member of the train’s crew whose help they have enlisted.
Morgan and Calder prepare to exorcise them.
“We’ll see how accurate this is,” Kit scoffs, taking another sip of the seltzer. He rubs his chest absently. “This seltzer is giving me heartburn.”
“Old man,” I comment, voice rattling with anticipation.
“Your body,” he shoots back.
Morgan and Calder spray holy water on the demon, and it burns.
“Well, that’s accurate,” Kit mumbles.
Morgan starts to recite the exorcism prayer in Latin. Now or never. I take control of my arm and slowly take the remote in my hand, sliding it out of Kit’s reach and sight.
Kit flinches, spilling a bit of his drink.
“Shit…that’s not…” He flinches so hard, I’m knocked off the chair in the void.
“Fuck, Lacy, this is accurate. Fuck! Where is the remote?” He cries out in pain, throwing the seltzer can onto the coffee table, it landing on its side with the rest of the contents bubbling out.
His eyes search wildly for the remote. He does not yet realize that I’m holding it.
He relaxes when the fictional demon knocks away the notebook holding the prayer.
That wasn’t all, right? My heart is pounding in my chest. This has to work. This has to work.
“That was…ouch.” Kit laughs nervously, stretching forward to pick up the can. “I’ll clean this up.”
Before he can stand, Morgan continues to recite the exorcism prayer.
Kit’s entire body convulses. I stumble in the void, a red light flashing on and off with an alarm blaring.
He sees the remote in my hand, and even though I can’t see his face, I know it floods with relief.
He thinks I’m helping him. “You found it! Fast forward.”
I won’t.
My soul clogs with remorse, but I cannot give up. I need to be free. This isn’t about Kit. This is about me.
He realizes I’m not helping, and I can feel the betrayal as it spreads over him like a sheet of ice. I’m hurting him. I don’t want to hurt him, but it can’t be helped. This is the way it has to be.
He reaches for the remote, but I hold it out of his reach, moving my arm away from his snatching hand. “Lacy, please.”
“Don’t make this harder, Kit,” I croak, throat raw as tears stream down my face.
The void starts to shake violently, and I squeeze the remote tighter so I don’t drop it. The walls around me start to crumble. I leap to dodge falling debris, backing myself up against the window where I feel safe as I watch the void destroy itself, knowing I won’t need it anymore once Kit is gone.
I’m sobbing, tears flowing out of my body’s eyes as well. There’s water in the void, rubble splashing in it. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, unsure if he can hear me over the alarm.
Kit gets up, determined to turn the TV off by hand, to halt Morgan Asher mid-sentence.
But I’m still fighting. In his weakened state, I gain control of my left leg and hold him in place.
The momentum of his leg moving and mine not throws us to the floor with a thump.
Kit screams in agony, the sound clawing into me.
I’m blubbering—I’m not ready to say goodbye to him.
“Lacy, please!” he cries, the pain in his voice scraping my heart like a serrated knife. “Don’t do this, sweetness, please.”
It’s too late. Yellow smoke—Kit—explodes from my chest, barreling downward into the floor. Back to Hell.
Hell. A place he never wanted to return to. My stomach churns.
Back in full control of my body, the void nothing but a memory, I furiously wipe at my eyes and lift the remote to switch off the TV, their demon gone as well.
I drop the remote to the ground and curl myself into a ball on the floor, my sobs so loud in my silent apartment.
Even louder in my silent mind. I’m alone.
He’s gone. Banished and pushed away like I’ve done to everyone else in my life.