Gracie responded on the other end, "Harris, you're being stupid. I'm not abandoning you. This wasn't your fault. Marco could have been dealing with some shit. You don't know."
"No Gracie. I saw him. I saw his face. He was fine. Then I saw something. It made him do it. Just like Becca. Just like my dad. If I don't stay away you could die. Do you get that? I'm sorry. Just don't call me or I'll change my number. You don't have a choice." Harris hung up the phone.
She started to cry. It was true. She couldn't be close to anyone because it WAS her soul that was haunted. No one could be safe near her. She had to be alone forever. There was no other option.
A text buzzed her phone.
Dylan
Hey, just checking in. How is everything?
Dylan. Why was Dylan alive? She had been with Dylan forever. He had never even seen anything scary. Her parents had seen things in her old house. Becca saw things with Harris more than once. But after years of living with Dylan, he had never seen or experienced even one spirit. How was that possible? And after everything, he is still alive.
She texted him back.
Things have been rough. I'm alone out here. Gracie and I are not talking.
Dylan
Come home.
Harris
Ok.
That was it. She had decided in that very moment, she was going home. Dylan could survive her and her ghosts. He wasn't at risk, at least not that she knew. Harris figured he would have been dead already. Everyone else was. He was immune.
The phone rang. It was Dylan.
"Wait, are you serious? What do you mean 'home'? Are you coming here?" Dylan asked.
"Well, I don't know. I'm coming back to Arbory. I don't know where I'm staying."
"You're welcome to stay here. Seriously. Or I can help you find a place. Whatever you need."
"Thanks."
Dylan always took care of her. He really did love her. It seemed almost silly that she left him just because he wouldn't marry her. He was great in every other way.
Harris wrote a note to Gracie, telling her she was moving away and not to look for her. She could drop it in Gracie’s mailbox. It was for her own safety. She left a voicemail for Gretchen at the coffee shop. She was leaving as soon as she could.
* * *
The car was loaded up in a few hours. She had accumulated a ton of stuff, but she knew she'd have no place for it, so she left it. It was the new tenant's problem. She had bigger things to worry about, like keeping her friends alive. Cargal City was good to her, but she didn't belong here. Not anymore. She texted Dylan to let him know she was on her way. Before long, the city skyline was behind her, as she left her new beginning behind her.
She drove into the night. Nothing felt safe anymore. Now she knew that the ghosts were following her, there was nowhere to run to, except back to her roots. Harris tried to push through, but exhaustion was setting in. She had to stop somewhere. She started checking exit signs for a hotel. Her eyelids were getting heavy. If she didn't find a place soon she'd just have to pull over.
"Oh great, finally," Harris said aloud. The next exit had lodging, according to the sign she just passed. She turned off at the next exit. She seemed to be the only car for miles. The town was a ghost town tonight. Harris kept her eyes peeled for another sign for the hotel.
She came to a four-way intersection with a flashing light. A gas station sat on one corner, a closed deli on another. The other side had a hotel across from a 24-hour convenience store. A few cars filled up at the gas station. The air was quiet and still. As she drove past the gas station, the few customers pumping gas looked up at her, watching her car drive by. She squirmed in her seat and rolled her window up.
The hotel was well lit. The parking lot was considerably full for such an out-of-the-way location. That made her feel more comfortable. The lobby was quiet. A woman sat behind a tall desk, her eyes and perfectly coiffed hair the only things visible from the door. Harris approached the desk. The woman didn't look up for a moment too long. Harris tapped her fingers on the desk, unsure of what would be a polite way to get the woman's attention.
The woman looked up, mouth stiff. "Can I help you?"
"Uh, yeah. Sorry. I need a room. Just for the night," Harris said with hesitation, holding out her credit card.
"A room. Okay," the woman answered, and started typing in an ancient looking computer. In a few minutes she produced a key card. "Check out is 11 a.m."
Chapter Twenty-Six
The TV illuminated the room with a soft light. Shadows shifted across the wall behind Harris as she sprawled out across the bed. The hotel was quiet. The walls were either well insulated or everyone was asleep, as the room was blanketed in near complete silence. Harris had already drifted off to sleep, still in her day-clothes. On the muted television, a salesman sliced carrots with a shiny, indestructible knife. A crowd appeared to cheer at each new item that the knife sliced and diced. Harris snored softly.
The light from the TV flickered. The channel changed. It changed again. A female chef cracked an egg into a stainless bowl. It changed again. Another infomercial. Harris, still asleep, rubbed her nose and rolled to her stomach. The channel flipped again, and again. Now faster. It didn't stop this time. Harris half asleep, now disturbed by the blinking light, reached for the remote. She pointed the remote at the TV without opening her eyes and turned it off. In the dark silence, she fell back asleep.
Click.
The TV was back on. This time, the volume was on. The channels flipped endlessly again, causing a strobe effect in the room. It finally settled on the cooking show, again. The volume increased rapidly. Soon the room was filled with the blaring sound from the lady chef.
Harris jumped up and fumbled with the remote. The volume continued to increase. Her neighbor started banging on the wall, yelling at her to shut up. The volume kept rising. The banging got louder, too.
Harris dropped the remote off the bed and scrambled to pick it up, covering one ear as the volume became unbearable. Suddenly it was quiet, again. And dark. The TV had shut off. Harris sighed and sat on the bed, thankful. Her heart thumped in her chest. The stillness in the room was shocking after the assault of sound Harris just endured.
The dark became suffocating. She reached over to the side table to turn on the lamp. Slowly she turned the knob, clicking the light on. The room was empty, even though she expected not to be alone. Maybe the TV was just defective, she considered. Sometimes things happen that are not ghosts, she had to remind herself.
Reaching to shut off the light, Harris decided against it. She laid back and turned over in bed. A face looked into hers, inches away. She jumped back, rolling off the bed. When she stood, nothing was there. Instead of facing whatever was about to go down in this room, Harris decided to get a snack and a soda, away from this ghost. She grabbed her wallet, threw on sneakers, and gently closed the door behind her.
The hallways were clean and fresh smelling. It didn't look like a creepy place, even though everyone she had encountered in this town gave her a bad feeling. Something was off about this place, but something was off about her, so it couldn't matter. The vending machines were in a cutout in a hallway downstairs. A snack machine sat between an ice maker and a drink machine. Harris made her selection. The coil spun around, getting ready to release her snack, when it stopped.
"Come on," Harris said, banging on the glass. The bag dropped into the bottom of the machine. Harris reached her hand in through the little black door to get her chips. A hand grabbed hers.
She yelped and yanked her hand out of the machine. Harris peered down from the glass above and saw nothing but chips. She really needed a snack, but not that badly. She decided to leave them. Maybe she could go to the store, she thought.
* * *
The air was cooler here than back in Cargal City. It felt refreshing on her tired face. There were still cars at the gas station, but this time no one looked her way. People stood outside the convenience store, despite th
e late hour. Harris walked across the street and passed by two men smoking cigarettes outside of the store. She avoided eye contact and went inside.
A bell dinged, alerting the clerk of her presence. The fluorescent lighting caused everything to be a distorted, sickly color. The clerk looked washed out in this light, too. Or maybe he just looked this way, who could really say? Harris browsed the snack section. She peered up at the clerk who was watching her. His expression didn't change. Only his eyes moved as his gaze followed her from aisle to aisle. Did she look like a criminal? She wondered.
After finding a snack and a drink, she tossed her things onto the counter. The clerk typed on the register. Harris couldn't shake this looming feeling of dread in the store. The clerk looked up at her and held out his hand. He didn't say a word, just held open his expectant palm.
Harris was confused at first. She looked at the price on the screen. And handed him some cash. He counted it out silently and gave her change.
"Uh, thanks. Have a good night," Harris said to the cashier. She gave him a look, as she grabbed her things and walked out of the store. The men were still outside, quietly talking. They stopped as Harris walked by.
“Sam,” one of the men yelled in her direction.
She glanced at them out of the corner of her eye. They stared at her, in silence. She turned around.
“Nope. Wrong person,” she answered them, then spun around to walk away.
“No it’s not,” the other man said.
What was wrong with this town, she asked herself. Everyone was so...weird. Even weirder than her, and she was the haunted one. She picked up her pace, looking back at the store as she hurried back to the intersection.
* * *
The front desk was empty. Harris thought maybe the employee went to get a snack or a nap, because she was cranky as hell. Harris pressed the button on the elevator. A couple came into the lobby, laughing. They looked like they could be drunk. They passed by Harris at the elevator and went for the hallway beside her. The elevator still hadn't arrived. It must have been stuck at a floor or something, she figured.
“Stairs it is”, she said to herself. The stairwell was behind a heavy fire-door. Inside, the stairwell was very cold and sterile feeling. The metal railing was painted gray and the cinder block stairs and walls were a particularly unappealing off-white color. Her footsteps echoed up to the top floor. She noticed something off about the echo. Harris slowed her stride.
Step, step. Echo, echo. Step. Echo. Step, step. Echo, echo. Echo.
There it was. There was an extra echo. Someone else must be walking in the stairwell, she thought. But why were they stopping and starting? She stepped again. The other steps followed suit so she stopped. They did, too. Harris waited, listening. The footsteps started again. They weren't stopping this time. Suddenly, they took off in a sprint.
Harris bolted up the stairs as fast as she could. The other footsteps getting louder as they closed in on her. They were gaining on her and she couldn't pick up her pace any more. She rounded the last corner before her floor, her legs burning and lungs aching for more air. The sound of footsteps was right behind her.
She pushed through the door at full speed and slammed into the hallway wall. Harris spun around and watched the door, waiting for something or someone to come through. Minutes passed as Harris's heart beat gradually returned to normal. The door stayed closed.
The hallway was long, walking back to her room. Everything was quiet again. Harris made it to her room and sat in a chair near the mini fridge. She didn't bother with the TV this time. Harris just ate her snack, waiting for the next thing to happen, until she fell asleep, there in her chair.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dylan sipped his coffee, staring at Harris. "I mean, I want to believe you. It's just, you think that these spirits, your spirits are killing people?"
"Yes. Come on. You said you believed me when I saw things in the house. You believed my stories from when I was a kid, didn't you? Why do you think I keep ending up in the hospital? I thought my house was haunted, but it wasn't the house. Something or things are following me and they want to hurt me and everyone I love," Harris said, desperation in her voice..
Dylan sipped his coffee again. A long awkward silence made Harris look away. She couldn't look at the doubt in Dylan's face anymore.
Finally Dylan spoke, "I do believe you. I believe that you had these experience. Shit, I'll even buy that you are haunted. I just can't think that it is somehow your fault that these people died. What about me? I have known you forever. You loved me, maybe you still do. I love you. Why am I still alive?"
"I know, I know. It doesn't make sense. I haven’t figured that part out yet. I think you might be protected somehow. If they were going after you, it probably would have happened already. I don't know why they can't hurt you." Harris's coffee cooled in her hands.
"Okay, well what can we do? Maybe you need a psychic person to help you? Or a priest to bless you? We have to stop this. I don't want anything hurting you again, Harris."
Harris's eyes widened. "That's it! A priest! You're a genius. Why didn't Gracie and I think of that? We already saw a psychic medium. Didn't work. Maybe I need an exorcism."
"Well, this is going to be a weird day," Dylan said, then took the last gulp of his coffee and stood to pay the check.
* * *
The church was old, like almost every other building in Arbory. It was one of the original churches in the area. Dylan called ahead to make sure someone would be there to see them. Father Griffin greeted them as they entered the church. Rows of pews lined the building. Long, slender stained glass windows depicted scenes of crucifixion, death, and sadness on one side. The other side showed happy children, the resurrection of Jesus, and trumpeting angels. The ceiling was tall, but maybe not as high as many other, grand churches. A large stone cross stood at the head of the church, overlooking the priest and the congregation during mass.
They followed him past the pews and through a door that led to a short hallway. One of the doors led to a modest office. A worn brown, leather office chair sat behind a small oak desk. There was no computer, only piles of paper, office supplies, and a bible. Father Griffin gestured toward the wooden chair in front of the desk.
"Please, sit. What can I do for you?" he asked.
"I think I need an exorcism," Harris just came right out with it.
"Oh. Well, why do you feel this way? Are you hearing voices or unable to control yourself?"
"No, it's not like that. I'm haunted. Spirits come to me and try to hurt me. I've been hospitalized several times from injuries that they gave me. My parents and friend were also killed by them. It wasn't proven, but I just know it. Also my coworker was killed by one." Harris didn’t hold back.
The priest looked shocked. He thought for a moment, his hands pressed together under his chin. "Okay. So you have bad spirits coming to you. They hurt you how? Are they possessing your body to make you do things? Or are they doing things to you?"
"They hurt me from the outside. I don't think I have ever been under the control of one. I see them sometimes. There is a girl with dark hair, who tried to kill me. Another tall dark, faceless spirit. One time my mother showed up, but I'm not sure if it was actually her. Something wasn't right. In my dreams, too. They visit my dreams. Usually it’s people I know. I've had stitches and bones broken from these attacks. I'm not exaggerating, Father." Harris let the words pour from her mouth.
The priest looked at Dylan for confirmation. Dylan nodded his head. He knew what Harris had been through. Regardless of his initial thoughts on it all, he had her back and would believe whatever he had to.
"It doesn't sound like you are possessed by a demon. I don't think an exorcism will help you. It sounds like these spirits are just drawn to you, for whatever reason. If you told me your house was haunted, I would come and bless your house. I suppose I can bless your body and your soul. You are too old for a traditional baptism, which would be the easies
t way, but we could try something else. Were you baptized as a baby? We could perform a Right of Christian Initiation of Adults if you are willing. Also, have you prayed? It could be that simple," Father Griffin said.
With her hand hanging on the side of her neck, she tried to think back. Had her parents said they baptized her? They went to church once in a while, but never regularly. Harris couldn't remember.
"I'm not sure. We went to church sometimes, but my parents were not super religious types. We said grace before dinner, but we didn't observe Lent. We were that kind of Christian. I haven't really prayed, no. I will, though, if you think it will help."
Father Griffin nodded. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a bible. He handed it to Harris. "I want you to do some reading, also. Maybe reading the Lord's words will give you the strength you need. Let's go out in front of the pulpit so that God may watch over our blessing."
Harris and Dylan followed Father Griffin back down the hall, out into the church again. The sun came in through the stained glass, now. The pews and aisles were lit up with different colors. Sun beams splashed light throughout the church, warming the whole room. Specks of dust glistened, dancing in the sun beams. It was beautiful. Father Griffin walked to a trunk, off of the pulpit. He pulled out a large glass vial of water with a cross on it. Holy water. This was getting serious. Harris could feel her stomach flip flop.
Father Griffin splashed the holy water on Harris, then wet his fingers and drew a cross on her forehead. He then signed the cross in front of himself and started saying blessings. “May the Lord bless you and keep you. Let his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you. The Lord look upon you kindly and give you peace. The Lord free you from the spirits who haunt you. By this holy water, wash away all of Harris's sins and protect her from the devil and his disciples.”
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