by Ty Griffin
She stood still in obvious surprise, and I faltered, unsure of what to say. “Kayla, I don’t … maybe I shouldn’t have … I mean, I know we don’t know …”
“Oh, Wes,” she cried, flinging her arms around me.
Chapter 15
◆◆◆
I was taken off guard, and it took me a moment to realize I should put my arms around her as well. So I did. She held on to me tightly, her face pressed against my chest as she sobbed. I tried to hold on to her just as tight, hoping a sense of protective strength and safety could be communicated with a hug.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. I’d like to say that my thoughts remained altruistic, but after a minute or two the baser parts of my brain could not help but notice a beautiful woman was hugging me. Kayla was hugging me. I could feel curves pressed against me. And I couldn’t help but notice that her wrapping her arms around me had lifted the hem of her shirt enough to make me wonder what she was wearing underneath.
I immediately felt ashamed for how my mind had wandered perversely, but apparently Veikr felt no such guilt. “I see why it was so important to you for us to come here, Vessel. This one is lovely, with such soft, beautiful skin. You could take her now. We could have her, you know.”
I felt my cheeks flush at Veikr’s suggestion and my body’s response to the idea. I tried to ignore his voice vibrating through my body. I couldn’t tell him to shut up with Kayla so close, so I tried to push the thoughts from my mind.
“You would not even have to force her, if the violence does not appeal to you,” he continued. “She is so happy to see you, so sad and scared and tired of being alone. She is emotionally … vulnerable.” The lascivious spirit drew out the last word as if the taste of it was too sweet to not be savored. An uncomfortable, tingling pressure began to fill my extremities, and I knew Veikr was trying to push me into action.
Guilt turned into horror, which quickly progressed to disgust. “No!” I shouted in my mind. I knew the demon would not be able to hear me, and it took every ounce of willpower to not scream out loud. I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears, or run away, or slam my head against the wall, anything to keep me from hearing Veikr’s voice. “Stop!” I shouted mentally as loud as I could.
Surprisingly, Veikr stopped. The tingling sensation caused by his will to be released and the vibrating presence of his voice subsided. I drew several deep breaths to regain control of my body’s responses and focused my mind on less selfish thoughts.
A couple moments later, Kayla sighed deeply and pulled away from me, wiping tears from her face. “I made a mess of your shirt,” she said with the ironic humor of the brokenhearted.
I looked down at the teary blotch on my chest and smiled. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”
Kayla took a step back and to the side, gesturing an invitation into her apartment. I took her up on her offer and stepped inside, turning as she closed the door behind me. We stood just inside the door awkwardly, neither able to come up with something to say.
“How are you?” I finally asked.
“I’m okay,” she said tentatively.
“No,” I pushed, “how are you really?”
She started to tear up again and quickly made a move toward the kitchen, wiping at her eyes as she moved. “I was just going to make some coffee. Want some?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, following her into the little kitchen. I sat in one of the two chairs at the tiny wooden table in her kitchen and watched quietly as Kayla poured water and grounds into her coffee maker.
Once she had gotten the coffee brewing, she leaned against the counter, folded her arms over her stomach, and stared at the floor absently. Neither of us spoke, the uncomfortable silence highlighted by the whirring and dripping sounds coming from the coffee machine. The discomfort continued until the dripping slowed to a stop, and Kayla fixed us both a cup.
She handed me one of the mugs, and I took a careful sip. It was a little sweeter than I usually liked, but I wasn’t going to complain. We sipped our coffees quietly in the continuing quiet.
I think Kayla’s silence drove home to me the significance of whatever had happened to her. In the short time I had known her, she had always been a source of such life and movement and energy. Whatever it was, it had taken something away from her.
“How did you hear about it?” she asked meekly.
“I didn’t, really,” I admitted. “It was a guess. I just kind of somehow knew I was right.” She continued to look at me, questions evident all over her face, so I went on. I told her about going to the studio and talking to Genevieve. Kayla smiled a little when I mentioned how I was pretty sure Genevieve didn’t like me.
I told her about running into Officer Tilley on the sidewalk and agreeing to meet with her later that morning. I winced at having to admit I had talked to the cop without her, but she didn’t react, so I kept going. I told her about my meeting with Tilley and how she reacted when I mentioned Gabe. I told her how Tilley had warned me to be careful and mentioned there had already been five victims.
I told her how the pieces fell into place. The realization that Genevieve had thought it strange for her to not show up to work and that the latest attack had to have happened since I had seen her last. I didn’t mention my fight with the monster in the alley, nor did I mention the conversation with Gabe.
“So you didn’t know for sure anything had happened until I jumped you, bawling like a baby?” she asked with rueful embarrassment.
I shook my head. “No, not really.”
Her face crinkled in a cute, confused, inquisitive pout, and she asked, “If neither Tilley nor Genevieve told you what had happened, then they didn’t tell you where I lived. How did you find me?”
I shrugged my shoulders sheepishly. “I saw Genevieve lock up the shop early and thought she might be coming to see you. At least I hoped she was.”
The corners of Kayla’s mouth turned up in an mischievous smile. “You followed her here?”
“Yeah,” I said dryly, feeling more than a little embarrassed.
I saw the familiar wild excitement in her eyes as she sat in the chair opposite me. “And you waited outside for her to leave? Like some kind of weirdo?”
“Well, no. I lost her when she came into the building. And then I got stuck listening to some old lady complain about doctors and insurance and everything else.”
“Oh, that was probably Mrs. McNeil. She’s sweet.”
“Yeah, I guess. Genevieve was just leaving your apartment when I came upstairs, which is how I knew which one was yours.” I decided to skip the part of the story where my resident demon poked his head into her neighbors’ apartments. I wasn’t ready to explain Veikr’s existence yet.
The distraction provided by the story lapsed, and after a moment Kayla’s mischievous smile devolved into a sad one. She stared at her coffee mug clutched tightly in both hands for a moment. “He didn’t … he didn’t actually do it.”
She took a nervous sip of her coffee. I wasn’t sure I understood what she meant but I wasn’t going to push. I was determined to let her talk at her own pace.
“I mean, he tried,” she eventually continued. She shared the story in halting, emotional pieces. “He had me pinned to the ground. He tried to … tried to get my clothes off. I tried to fight … but he had me pinned on my stomach. I yelled. I screamed for help. I don’t know if that scared him … or maybe someone walked up on us. But he ran away before he … before he could actually …” Her voice broke, and she wiped the back of one hand across her cheek.
“God, I must sound so pathetic to you. A blubbering, snotty mess because someone basically pushed me down on the street and then ran away.”
“Kayla, no,” I said firmly. “You weren’t just pushed down. Just because you fought him off before he could …” I hesitated, not wanting to say the word we had both been avoiding. “Just because you were able to fight him off doesn’t mean all these emotions aren’t justified.”
I hes
itantly lifted my hand and laid it on top of hers. I moved slowly, watching for a flinch or look of discomfort from her. Physical touch wasn’t a line we had crossed very often, and I did not know if she would want to be touched at all right then, but I wanted to be able to offer her some kind of comfort. Kayla wrapped her fingers around mine and squeezed.
She looked at me with a vulnerability that made me want to throw tables and chairs, enraged that someone would try to hurt her. “Can I tell you something I haven’t told anyone, not even the cops?”
“Of course,” I said, trying to sound reassuring.
Her eyes locked on her coffee mug again, and I could feel her hand begin to tremble as she spoke. “Even though he didn’t physically …”
“Yeah?” I prodded, hoping to give her freedom to continue avoiding the word if she wanted.
“It felt like he … forced himself inside my mind. Not like he could read my thoughts or anything, but like he invaded my brain. Forcing the memory of himself into me.” She was quiet for a moment, trying to piece together the words. “I think he enjoyed making me feel … violated. Like he got off on my fear and shame as much as he would have any of the physical stuff. He made me feel vulnerable and disgusting, and I think that’s what he wanted me to feel. It was like he …” She faltered for a moment and had to gather herself before continuing. “It was like he was raping my soul.
“And I know that sounds stupid and crazy and dramatic, but Wesley, I swear I could almost physically feel him beginning to violate the very core of who I am.” The last bit came out in a rush, as if she needed me to hear her words before I made up my mind that she was crazy.
I squeezed her hand tighter. “Kayla, I don’t think you are crazy. After everything we have seen going on around here, I absolutely believe just about anything could have happened.”
Tears were streaming down her face, so many that she no longer tried to wipe them away. “Thank you,” she said weakly.
We stayed like that for a few minutes before I let go of her hand, stood, and reached for the roll of paper towels on the counter beside me. I ripped off a sheet and handed it to her, setting the rest of the roll on the table. She dabbed her cheeks with the paper towel and wiped her nose. “God, I’m such a mess,” she said with a mirthless chuckle.
“I think it was really smart, and very brave of you, to fight and scream the way you did. It probably saved you,” I said.
She nodded. “That’s what the cop said too.”
“Did someone call the cops?” I asked, wondering if that meant there had been a witness.
She shook her head. “No, no one called the cops. I don’t think anyone even knew. The street was pretty empty. After a couple minutes, I just got up and left. I wasn’t even hurt that badly.” She lifted her free hand and started running her fingertips over the scratch down her cheek.
“I went straight to the police station and filed the report,” she said, lifting her chin in determination. I have been around abuse often enough to know that everyone responds differently, but it was obvious how important it was to her that she immediately handled the situation head on. I felt a surge of pride and respect for her as I watched the defiance dance in her eyes. She was battered and scared, but she was taking control of the situation as best she could.
“Where were you when it happened? When was it?” I asked.
A look of uncertainty flashed across her face before she answered. “It was this morning. Seven o’clock. In the alley beside the bar.”
My heart sank into my stomach as bitter-cold, nauseating guilt washed over me. It was my fault. If I had not been drunk on the floor of the bar, Kayla would not have been alone and vulnerable. “Oh god, Kayla,” I muttered in horror.
The dam of self-control burst and Kayla wailed, “Where were you?” She buried her face in her hands and cried, great big sobs shaking her shoulders.
I stood so fast my chair clattered to the floor. I knelt beside Kayla and wrapped my arms around her. “I am so sorry, Kayla. I should have been there. Oh god, I am so sorry,” I said over and over.
After a couple minutes, Kayla regained control and sat up straight, wiping tears from her eyes. I stood, set my chair back on its legs, and sat down. I guess it was my turn to stare at my coffee mug. I couldn’t bear to look up and meet the stubborn, angry gaze I could feel boring into my head.
“Where were you?” she asked again. This time her voice was flat and controlled.
“I was there. In the bar. I was … I was passed out drunk on the floor,” I said with self-loathing. I risked a glance up and did not find the furious betrayal I expected to see on her face. Instead there was just confusion and disbelief.
“That doesn’t sound like you, Wesley.”
“I know. I don’t even like getting drunk. I just … I had a bad night. I tried to drink it away.” I looked her in the eyes, begging for her to believe me. “But Kayla, if I had known … I never would have … I’m so sorry.”
If nothing else that day had hurt my heart, the look on Kayla’s face absolutely broke me. Sympathy. After my careless betrayal, after everything she had gone through, she was worried about me.
God, I felt like such a pathetic, selfish tool at that moment.
“A bad night?” she asked softly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
I tried to brush it off. “Maybe another time. We have more important things going on.”
“Please?” she asked. “I could use a distraction from all the junk that’s been rolling around in my brain today.”
She looked so fragile, so small and vulnerable, when she asked, and she had shared so much intimate stuff with me already. I realized that not only did she need a distraction from her own things, she needed to balance the scale in our friendship. She had offered a lot of herself by sharing her weakness with me and now needed me to be willing to do the same. There was no way I could refuse her.
So I told her everything. Well, almost everything. I told her about being cornered by the monster on the street. I told her I escaped and made it back to the bar, and how he banged on the door and threatened to wait for me.
“Wait,” she interrupted. “I’m confused. How did you escape in the first place?”
I sighed heavily. I didn’t want to lie to Kayla but I also didn’t want to have to tell her the whole truth. I was hoping a lie of omission would facilitate enough truth to appease my conscience. Kayla stared at me, eyes steady, waiting for me to answer.
“Vessel, you are not going to tell her, are you?” Veikr asked. “That would be a very bad idea. Do not tell her about me.”
I tried to growl a “shut up” as quietly as possible, hoping Veikr would take the hint without Kayla hearing.
“Do you remember that spirit we saw on the way to Gabe’s?” I asked cautiously.
“Yeah, that pushy one that wanted to possess you,” she said. Then her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open as realization dawned on her. “You didn’t let him …”
“Yeah, I did. I had to, Kayla. That thing was going to eat me, literally eat me alive!” I exclaimed.
“He possessed you? You are possessed? Like right now, you have a demon inside you?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Woah. That’s trippy. What does it feel like?”
I blinked at her, dumbfounded. “That’s it? You jump straight to curiosity? You’re not going to make a cross with your fingers and try to run me out of your apartment? Or shout Latin at me and make me climb the walls and spit pea soup all over the place?”
She gasped with wide-eyed wonder. “Does that work?”
“What? No!” I proclaimed in frustration. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t think so. It’s not really like that from what I can tell.”
“Well, what is it like?” The excitement in her voice caught me off guard. Looking back, I should have expected it, knowing what I did about Kayla. She didn’t back down from an adventure, any adventure from what I could tell.
“So far it has
been really scary, with stretches of normalcy, I guess,” I said.
“Most of that has not been my fault,” grumbled Veikr. I rolled my eyes but didn’t respond. I wasn’t quite ready for Kayla to see me talking to the thing.
“Scary how?” she asked.
That’s when I really laid it all out for her. I filled in the missing pieces from my first encounter with the leech thing. I told her how Veikr refused to leave, and how when I tried to make him, he basically tortured me. I admitted, with considerable shame, how I had drunk myself stupid trying to dull his voice in my head. I told her about how he helped me kill the leech in the alley earlier that morning. I even told her how Veikr tried to force me to do some pretty terrible things. I did not, however, tell her how he had been pushing me when she hugged me at her door.
“What kind of terrible things is he trying to make you do?”
“Steal stuff. Hurt people that piss me off,” I said truthfully. “The worst part is that I can’t always tell right away that it’s him pushing me toward something. Most of the time, the terrible things are things I already kind of want to do. It’s like he amplifies the evil that is already inside of me. Pushes me to follow the urges of my subconscious desires. I think that is the worst part.”
“What is?” she pushed gently.
“That all of these things are already inside me. It’s not like I’m trying to fight the urges of some evil presence inside me. It’s more like I am fighting against what I’ve always wanted to do, only now I’m dangerously close to losing.”
I nervously took another sip of my coffee. The silence between us was suffocating, like a thick, wet blanket. After a few minutes, Kayla said seriously, “I don’t think that’s so unusual. I mean, everyone wants to do bad stuff, right? We all, or most of us, just force ourselves to not do the bad stuff. That’s the difference between a bad person and a good person, right? Not what they want to do, but what they choose to do?”
“Yeah, but I’ve got a literal demon pushing me toward doing the bad stuff, Kayla.”