Venom

Chapter 25 Eight

Eight

After that memory, the “possessions” have gotten worse.

My mind is the clearest it has been in a very long time.

And the memories themselves seem more and more real.

I have begun to feel things, my movements and actions leaving marks, like the mascara smudged on Van’s cheek the night of the Christmas party the law firm she was interning at threw.

I can feel her now. I can feel when she touches me in the memories. I can feel it when I touch her. I don’t know if it has made the pain better or worse.

She’s dead. I’m dead.

She’s not here with me. I’m alone in this cursed home.

But I remember her now. I remember her fully. Her name. The story of us. At least most of it. The things that happened closer to the first memory of Mr. Venom approaching me are still…a void. It’s hazy and only small things have come to me as I try to remember.

Van’s face as she laughs.

A sharp snap.

The neon lights of a convenience store.

Warmth from the early morning sun.

The small ding of a bell.

Weightlessness.

A searing pain in my thigh and stomach.

Tightness burning my throat.

A scream.

Then darkness. Just endless, blank darkness.

Those are the things I think about in the short moments between the memories overtaking me.

I’m not even sure how many days it has been since the guests arrived here, if it has even been that long.

It feels like months have gone by since I lived through the dream of that night with Van.

When I’m aware of what’s going on around me, I’ve realized I haven’t truly seen the girl that has taken to staying in this room.

I just know she has the same color hair and lotion. Or at least they’re similar.

Her bag has remained pretty much untouched, only moving spots. Today, though, perhaps I’ll actually get to see her. My mind doesn’t seem to be so chaotic today. Every little glimpse of the world around me doesn’t seem to be triggering more of the past.

Since that memory, I’ve sat at the chair by the writing desk.

I haven’t been roaming as much either, at least not like I had been.

Much like the guest’s bags, I only seem to be changing my place within the room.

I’ve opted to keeping away from the bed in case she comes in while I’m lying there and wants to sleep.

I don’t quite know if my presence beside her would be known.

Maybe it would be like in the horror movies or those paranormal shows where the ghosts leave you feeling cold.

I don’t want her to feel any colder in this place than what the snowstorm raging beyond the window has brought.

This is probably the worst storm I have seen hitting the town since I have been here. I can barely see the tree through the onslaught of blinding white outside.

I have to give the tree some credit. Out there alone in the cold vastness of the property. The wind incessantly tearing at each limb, swaying haphazardly. Weighed down by the heavy wet snow. And still, it stands tall. A dark stoic image in the blank canvas of the grounds.

I haven’t really thought much about why the tree means so much to me.

Why I seem to go back to that place over and over again.

My only assumption is that it reminds me a lot of the large trees I would seek solace with throughout my childhood.

There was a big one behind my house as a kid.

I remember that now. It wasn’t an oak tree, but it towered above my house, with limbs reaching a few feet above my head that made it so easy to climb.

My dad had hung a tire swing from it one summer, and I spent so many early mornings and late evenings out there reading as the breeze rustled the leaves.

Then the one from my high school. The one I was staring at the day I met Van.

We’d spend a lot of time out beneath that tree, doing our homework in free period, or eating lunch.

The same for the one in my parent’s backyard.

Hours spent out there with a blanket cushioning the ground, talking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company.

Maybe that’s why I feel so strongly about the large oak by the river. It reminds me of home.

The creak of the bedroom door opening catches my attention, and again, I hold my breath. Waiting to see what this guest looks like and honestly praying its nothing like Van. If she does look like her…I don’t think I could take it. I’m afraid to know what memory I’ll be thrown into next.

As she enters the room, relief sets in. She does have brown hair, but I can see in the bright light of the day, it’s not the same dark brown as Van’s.

It has a slight reddish tint to it. Her eyes are wide and a crystal blue, it’s a jarring color.

One that you don’t see naturally. It’s also jarring how it seems like she’sstaring right at me.

“Laney,” she breathes, and my nonbeating heart stops.

I shift back, leaning closer to the cool window, tilting my head in confusion and shock.

“Laney, right? Laney Greene?” She moves forward, excitement and wonder filling her wide eyes.

This is a joke, right? Have I actually lost my mind this time?

I nod, brows furrowed, feeling absolutely ridiculous. She can’t see me. No one can see me but Mr. Venom. I think the other ghosts can but I’m not even 100% sure with that. The time I’ve been here is almost like Middle School 2: Afterlife Edition with the way I have been invisible.

“I’m, hm, well I’m not sure if you have figured out how to manifest as a tangible corporeal form, so I feel it would be a bit rude to try to shake your hand…” she trails off grimacing, before clearing her throat slightly. “My name is Katerina, but you can call me Kat.”

“It—” my voice cracks, “—it’s nice to meet you?”

“You probably have a lot of questions, I can feel your confusion. I know you’re also shocked I can see you as well?

” She says it like a question and I nod, still apprehensive and uncertain of this whole situation.

And here I was thinking I just wanted her to not look like Van. I never even considered this.

“Well, I suppose I should just rip off the band aid. I’m a clairvoyant.

A psychic, ghost whisperer, minder reader, however you want to put it, I’m that.

I can see you, and I can see the others that have been trapped here.

But more importantly I can speak to them freely, and I can hear those that aren’t trapped here. ”

“There are others?”

She hums quietly. “More than you could probably guess. But I mean, here, as in earth. This plane. I can’t talk to them like I can talk to you, but they speak to me from the beyond. The realm beyond the one you have been living in all these years.”

I don’t really know what to say. Maybe it isn’t me that has lost it. Maybe she’s crazy.

“I can feel your skepticism, and I understand I wouldn’t believe me too. Would you like me to prove it?” She almost sounds resigned, like she’s tired of playing the part of a circus monkey, performing tricks for an awed crowd. And for some reason that alone makes me believe her.

“No. No, I believe you.” I pause, stepping closer to her. “Would you like to sit?” I nod to the bed and she agrees, climbing into the middle of the bed, and it feels comfortable. Like were two old friends catching up after not seeing each other during summer break.

I follow her lead, climbing into the bed and sitting cross-legged in front of her.

“What did you mean by “beyond the realm I’ve been living in”? Is…are there others?”

“Yes, there are others. But the ones you need to worry about are this one. You have been living in the plane above ours—” she motions to herself.

“You can see us, and most of the time, we cannot see you. It’s like a veil over reality.

I call it the “between”. You aren’t quite in the beyond, just outside of it.

The beyond is what you can kind of think of as heaven.

The souls there can see all of us—me and you.

They inhabit that realm, that plane, like you inhabit yours, but you cannot see them.

The souls can see you though, and one in particular has been whispering to me since the moment I crossed this properties boundary. ”

My stomach drops, and my chest aches. “What do you mean?”

“A soul has been talking to me, telling me so much about you. How do you think I knew your name if you hadn’t been spoken to me before now?”

“I—I just assumed it was in the same way you knew I was confused,” I mumble, twiddling with the thick quilt laying across the bed. It must have been pulled from a closet somewhere. It smells stale, so I know Kat didn’t bring it with her.

She’s quiet, a far off look on her face, before her eyes come back into focus and she dips her chin toward my hands. “She said to stop that.”

My hands freeze.

“I can feel your nervousness, the fear and hope mingling inside. The soul said you fidget when you’re anxious.”

I look away, glancing back out the window, but her voice cuts through again, “She also said you avoid eye contact.”

Okay now I’m annoyed.

“What is this? Who is saying this? Have they just been watching me in that other…world or whatever? Do I have some super-ghost stalker?” My eyes narrow at her as I cross my arms against my chest like some kind of shield.

She smiles, it’s knowing, like there’s a secret she has but hasn’t shared yet. “Have you changed your mind on stalking being romantic?”

I stand abruptly, pacing the short distance of the end of the bed. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing. She is though. She has a nice laugh. And a really pretty voice, doesn’t she? It’s like, hm, I don’t know how to describe it. Like—”

“Music,” we say together, and her smile widens as her shoulders drop. She nods. “Exactly. Like music.”

My eyes brim with tears. “How—” I choke.

“Like I said. They talk to me. She’s told me a lot. And I can feel a lot. You’re sad, hurt. In so much pain and it’s all right here.” She pats the space above her heart, and I feel my own crack.

“But you’re confused too. Why are you confused?” She sits there, her full attention focused solely on me.

“I…don’t remember much. At least, at first. I remember coming here and it was like I had woken up from a dreamless sleep. I couldn’t remember anything, but slowly, it started to come back to me. But not everything. Not—not what I think might be the most important things.”

“Important how?”

“I don’t remember how she died. I don’t remember how I died,” I say quietly.

She nods in understanding, the same far off look taking over her expression. Slowly, I watch as tears line her bottom lashes.

She sniffs, blinking rapidly, before turning to look at me. “I’m so sorry. It’s not uncommon for spirits or souls to not remember the moments of their death. It is odd that you don’t remember hers though.”

“No. No it’s not. If people like me don’t remember how they died, then of course I wouldn’t remember hers. A part of me died with her.”

She gives me a sad smile, leaning onto her knees to grasp my hand. Somehow it works, and she leads me back to sitting in front of her.

“Do you want to know?” She speaks softly, like she’s afraid she’ll scare me off, and for a moment, I’m not sure what to say.

Do I want to see Van die? Was I even with her when it happened? Will I be watching it happen again? I can’t think about how it will feel, just pondering how it would play out in my mind makes me feel sick.

Kat clears her throat. “She, um, she thinks it would be good for you to see it. See both of them.”

If Van says I need to see it, then I’m going to do it. I inhale deeply, straighten my spine.

“Okay. How does this work, then?”

“Just relax. I’m going to touch you, and hopefully, with some guidance from her for the time they take place, I can find the memories in your mind. The moment I find them, they should play out. Like what happens usually when you remember things.”

I startled, moving away. “No, maybe, maybe I shouldn’t—l”

She places her hand on my arm. “No, Laney. It’s not what you’re thinking. I’ll act as an anchor for you. You will only watch them. Maybe feel some of the sensations, but not intensely. You won’t live them, it will be like you’re dreaming. Like a true dream, not the sleepwalking.”

I settle back down, closing my eyes as I calm my breathing.

There’s a soft pressure in my temple, and I know it’s her.

Pushing gently at the barrier of my mind but not fully entering.

Not until I have said yes. I focus on the feeling of her mind there, finding comfort in knowing she isn’t here to hurt me.

She’s…a friend. Kat has been speaking to Van, and they are trying to help me.

Help me get things back in order. So, I don’t feel lost here.

“Why does she want me to see? Why do I need to know?”

There’s a pause and I’ve figured out it’s when Van is speaking to Kat, answering my questions.

“Before you were brought here, you were still stuck in the “between”. It’s because you were emotionally tormented.

Your soul wasn’t at peace. That’s the way to pass into the beyond.

She said you blamed yourself for what happened.

You were grieving. Your mind was confused, uncertain of reality.

That’s why you have been experiencing the things you have. ”

“That’s why things aren’t in order? Why I’m not always here, I’m then?”

“Yes. She said that by seeing things this way, you will see the truth, and things will make sense.”

I’m quiet for a moment but I relent. “Okay. Let’s do it then.”

Her mind brushes against my own, and I’m thrown into the darkness that has been haunting me.