"Please William, stay, this place is just as much yours as it is mine."
"Um, Ok Dr. Z."
"Please, we're not in session, call me John. Feel free to ask me anything."
"I'm guessing that was an accident." I looked down at the wheelchair Dr. Z. sat in.
"Actually, no. I was made an example of. Some people didn't like what I had to say and thought it best to send me a strong message by burning my legs."
"That's awful."
Dr. Z. Nodded in agreement. " It was a long time ago."
“I want to say I'm sorry Dr. Z. I shouldn’t have said those things and acted the way I did.”
“Thank you Will. It takes a lot of strength to say that. I understand. The emotions you've been experiencing are not easy.”
"When I stormed off during our last session, um, it sounded like you said 'I know'."
"You're a Resurrectionist, I know."
"How? How do you know about that?"
"I'm one too."
"Will that happen to me?" I asked, pointing to Dr. Z's wheelchair.
"It depends on the choices you make."
"Did you make bad choices?" I asked.
"There are no bad choices if you serve a higher purpose."
"Did you serve a higher purpose?"
Dr. Z. nodded. I was unable to speak. We stood in silence. I was never comfortable with silence, but Dr. Z. had mastered it. I broke. “Thanks for being patient. Thanks for not pushing me to talk.” Dr. Z. nodded, not breaking from his silence. It was time to stop running. I had to talk about Allison, excruciating pain and all. I needed to face my anger towards her father. My time in hell taught me a lesson about holding onto anger. It’s never good. My demons were not going to get the best of me.
“I think I’m ready, I think I really loved her."
“Say more. You think you loved her. You aren't sure?” Dr. Z. guided me.
“I mean, I miss her so much. I’m so numb. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. All I can see is her. Everywhere, she's with me. Haunting me, stalking. She’s in my mind. When I close my eyes, I see her. When I open them, I feel her. I’m so guilty.”
“Do you blame yourself for her death?”
"Yes." A tear formed in the corner of my eye but I held it back.
“She took her life, Will. It was nothing you did.”
“That’s the problem. I didn’t do anything. I could have stopped it. What kind of person am I? What kind of monster does that to another human being?"
“How do you think you could have stopped it?”
“By telling her the truth, about my feelings, how much she meant to me.” This time I couldn’t stop the tear from falling.
“You’re not alone. What you're experiencing is common. Survivors of tragic events often feel guilty. Like they should have done something different. The problem is there's no way of knowing that the outcome would have been anything different. You're speculating, Will. This line of thinking can lead to crippling guilt. It can render you paralyzed and unable to move on, unable to heal.” Dr. Z. said.
“It’s so hard.” I said.
“It is hard, Will. It is hard.”
I hung my head, allowing myself to be present in the silence. Allowing myself to feel. “It’s not too late.” Dr. Z. said.
“Not too late for what?”
“To express your love. Love has a way of transcending death.” I nodded with understanding. Allison was still alive. Maybe not physically, but she was alive. If my love could somehow reach her, somehow change her, then maybe, maybe she could be made whole again. The way she used to be.
“There’s a problem though,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“Her father, I hate him. The rage is so intense. I can’t even picture him in my mind without the veins in my neck twitching uncontrollably. I feel like my anger is blocking me from expressing love. Because of it, I can’t fully feel love for Allison. Love becomes mental, just a concept, something in my mind but not in my heart.”
Dr. Z. nodded in agreement. “It’s a start Will, it’s a start. By recognizing it, you now have the upper hand. You can now do something about it. Start to break it down, dissolve the anger.”
Dr. Z. listened with a masterful ear and skillfully carved out emotions I never knew were in me. The realization finally came, anger controlled me. Anger towards Mr. Channing, towards Allison for giving up, towards myself for being afraid of being different. I was detached from love, a zombie to it’s healing vibration. It felt awkward, crying like a baby in front of Dr.Z., but the relief that came afterward was divine. It didn’t change the outcome, Allison was still gone, but the biting sting was soothed. Things were going to be ok. I was stronger than my demons. They couldn’t touch me.
"Don't you have a class to get to?" Dr. Z. asked.
"I should probably go, huh?" I said while Dr. Z. nodded his agreement.
"Do you still do it? Go to hell." I asked.
Dr. Z. gave a quick smirk. "Gotta desk job now."
***
I fell asleep after school, something I never did. It always backfired, leaving me groggy and out of it. I guess I needed the rest. The emotions I carried for so long left me drained. My body needed time to recover.
My brain was in the middle of processing a biology assignment. I needed to record my insights before they were forgotten. I grabbed the notebook next to me. Damn, I need a pen. I rolled over to see one laying on my desk across the room. Fighting fatigue, I forced myself up and sat on the edge of the bed. I imagined the pen being in my hand and looked down to see it was already there. Confusion set in. I glanced around the room to see if anyone was there. Maybe someone had thrown the pen to me. There was no one.
My phone rang through my gym bag before I could get the stupid thing out. Missed call from an unknown number. I set the phone on the bed and fell backward, exhausted from my efforts. It rang again.
“Hello."
“William, what are you doing?”
“Not too much,” I replied, “Just at home.”
“We need you at Gateway as soon as possible.” It was Corbin.
“I don’t know Corbin, I’ve had a horrific past 24 hours and I’m not really in the mood.” I replied, wishing to avoid those guys and be left alone. I didn’t know how to tell them about what I experienced in hell. The timing wasn't right.
“We need to talk. Get down here ASAP." He hung up. I groaned and shook my head, irritated with his demands.
I milled around my room, annoyed and overtired. The pen in my hand had a magical way of pulling me in. Holding a magnetizing control over me. More than anything though, it freaked me out. Maybe going to Gateway would help get my mind off of it. I left my room and got in my car. I drove through town, past the store owned by Corey’s family. Seeing it sent flashbacks of the tragedy jolting through my brain. I gripped down hard on the steering wheel, unable to force the images out of my mind.
Justin was waiting for me at the end of the dark driveway. My hands wanted to strangle him for abandoning me. I was deeply hurt, but pushed it aside. “Hey Will,” he said in a chipper voice. “We weren’t sure if you were gonna make it.”
“I wasn’t sure I would make it either,” I said. “But I'm here.”
“Corbin thinks he might know why Gateway failed, or at least why we lost contact with you. He thinks it was a frequency problem.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“There are many levels of hell, each with it’s own frequency or vibration, if you will. Like a radio tuning into radio waves. Gateway works the same way. The regions of hell become darker and denser as a soul descends. It’s due to the heavy amount of evil in the region. Corbin thinks he had the frequency set too high and you were on a level that was too dense for our communications to reach you.” My palms moistened and my throat tightened. Justin looked me in the eye. “Will, where were you?”
We reached the lab. There was no sign of Monika. “Where’s Monika?” I asked.
“Working.” Corbin blurted out rudely, as if my question annoyed him. He was in his usual position seated in front of his computer.
“Take a seat Will.” Justin motioned for me to sit on the couch next to him.
“Sorry guys, I don’t want to do this. At least not right now.” I got up to leave.
Justin placed his hand on my shoulder and with a firm grip pressed down. “Will, please, we need to talk.” He appeared eager to listen, eager to help. Corbin didn’t take his eyes off of his computer screen.
“I don’t know what happened, but I couldn’t hear you.” I said.
“I know.” Justin replied. “Corbin's working on the frequency thing. Will, we are so sorry.” I could sense a genuineness in Justin's voice and a coldness in Corbin’s nonresponse.
I took a deep breath. “I just wanted to come and say that I’m out.” I paused for a response but none came. “This whole ghost hunting, paranormal, Resurrectionist thing just isn’t for me. Some things are better left alone.”
Justin nodded while looking down. “I’m sorry you feel that way Will, but I understand.”
“Just give it a few days. Let the shock wear off. Then we can try again.” Corbin said.
“What do you mean?"
“You had a rough time. It happens. You need to get over it and when you do you can try again.”
“I don’t think you understand me. I’m out! I’m not coming back. This is goodbye.”
“Tell me Will, what exactly did you see down there?” Justin intervened. They weren't going to let me out without giving them some answers.
“It's the worst thing imaginable. The fear, the terror, the pain. It's everywhere. I heard screams of tortured souls. And the darkness. It was perpetual blackness every second. There was no light other than an eerie reddish glow that my eyes faintly adjusted too over time. That’s it. The pain. The pain is indescribable. I don’t know if I had a physical body or not, but let me tell you, my spiritual body certainly felt pain. It was excruciating. I could feel and hear my bones break, even see it from time to time, yet I was never fully broken, even though my body burned fiercely. I should have died but didn’t.” I couldn't control the tremor in my hand as I spoke.
“Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.” Corbin stated without taking his eyes off the screen. “The simple fact is you weren’t ready. You still aren’t.”
“You wouldn’t have gotten past the village of the damned you arrogant ass!"
“Will, I know it’s difficult. I know the things you saw, what you experienced must have been horrific. It’s my fault. I pushed you too soon. For that I am sorry.” Justin said.
“No, it’s not your fault. I chose to go. I thought I was strong, tough, I thought I could save her. It was my own arrogance, my own unwillingness to accept the fact that she was gone and that I was to blame." I said.
“No, Will, don’t blame yourself. Don’t place the guilt of Allison's death upon yourself.” Justin said.
“No, Justin, you don’t understand. I am guilty. I could've saved her. Maybe not in hell, but here before it all started.”
“I don’t follow you.” Justin said.
“I couldn’t tell her I loved her. I was too scared to reveal my true emotions. That's where I failed.”
I didn’t tell them about my confrontation with the dark figure. I wrestled with lying to them but they would’ve just put me under a microscope or run various tests on me. The darkness scared me, scared the hell out of me. I couldn’t deny it, even though I tried my best. That’s how I dealt with everything. I was learning through my work with Dr. Z. that this is an unhealthy approach, but sometimes it's easier than dealing with truth. I don’t think Justin or Corbin picked up on my omission. They were too fascinated with my tale of hell to even notice.
“Will, would you be willing to make another attempt? Corbin has some tweaking on Gateway to do but he assures me that he can resolve the problem. You were in the deeper regions of hell. This is pioneering Will! No Resurrectionist has ever been that deep.”
"You don’t understand. This isn't some game or expedition. It’s not something I ever want to experience again. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind. I'm out!”
Justin inhaled slowly and spoke before I could walk away. “We can save Allison, if we work together.”
Chapter 14
My alarm clock read 9:17 a.m. I was going to be late for school but was too depressed to get out of bed, falling back to sleep for another hour before forcing myself up for the day. The house was quiet. Another hour passed before I realized it was Saturday.
I poured milk on my cereal and headed to the living room. I cycled through the TV guide about a dozen times before giving up. When depression has you, the world is dim. Two squirrels chased each other outside the patio door. The sight of them reminded me how the little neighbor boys used to jump up and down and squeal with excitement at the slightest thing. It used to make me smile. I couldn’t smile anymore. I glanced hopeless at the ceiling and then back toward the TV. The same Paranormal Program that made our town famous was showing an episode on hauntings. In the past, I would have rolled my eyes and quickly changed the channel. This time was different. I watch intently. It was all too real. The same experiences I had were shown on the program. The dark shadowy figures. The hallucinations. The eerie voices. My heart reached out to the people in the documentary. They didn’t have a clue what they were up against.
A woman talked about leaving her kitchen for a second and then coming back to find all of the chairs stacked on top of each other.
“It was like they disappeared and then reappeared that way,” she said.
My hand shook, unable to set the coffee cup neatly on the table, hot liquid ran in every direction. The pen. My pen did the same thing, only I chose to ignore it. It had dissolved itself and reappeared in my hand. I thought back to the moment. I remembered wishing the pen would appear in my hand because I was too exhausted to get up. I passed it off to sleep deprivation. Did the woman in the show have a similar experience? Did she simply wish for the chairs be stacked on top of each other?
I had questions that needed answers. Monika's name starred at me through my address book. I decided against it. I couldn't risk Justin or Corbin finding out. There was a woman in town, Marla Williams. She was one of those palm reader, fortune teller types. I hated even the thought of it, but I was desperate.
“Hello, My name is Will." I walked into her shop. There were crystals of all shapes and sizes. Incense burned in each corner of the room, enough to make me gag.
“I know who you are.” Marla smiled. “You go to school with my daughter.”
“I believe so. Samantha, right?”
“That’s right.” Marla said.
I had always been kind to Marla's daughter. Samantha was a grade below me. Heavy set, not very pretty, didn’t have any friends that I knew of. I went out of my way to talk to her. She would get done with band practice the same time I would finish with football. We were always the last kids picked up. I usually came up with some lame comment like, I hope they didn’t forget about us, and she would smile.
"How is she?” I asked. “I haven’t seen her much since football ended.”
For all my social anxieties, I did have a knack for small talk. It was detached and unemotional, just logical. There were no feelings, nothing personal involved. “She’s doing well, all things considered.”
“All things considered. What do you mean?” I asked.
“Oh it’s nothing. She was just going through a rough patch for a while. Teenage stuff I guess.” Marla said. I didn’t say it but I knew the truth. Samantha always had a tough go of it. She was teased and bullied. That's part of the reason I went out of my way to be nice to her.
"What brings you here, Will?"
“Um, some things have been happening, things you might have answers for.” I said.
“I’d be glad to help. First, I'd like to do a reading. Would you be ok
with that?”
“Um, I'm not so sure about that." I said.
“It'll be painless, I promise. It'll give me some insight into the things that cloud your mind.”
I agreed to the reading. Marla was remarkably accurate. She pinned the pain in my heart. Her concern for the anger inside was eminent. I told her I was working with a trusted therapist. She encouraged me to continue doing so.
“William, you might not want to hear this but it is my duty to warn you.” Marla said.
“What is it?”
“There are dangers around you. Dark spirits. They're feeding off of your anger, using your pain against you.”
“I’m getting that under control.” I said.
“Still, it is very dangerous to have them around you. They're like vampires. They drain your spiritual light and bleed you dry.”
“Spiritual light?”
“All beings, whether good or evil need light, or energy if you prefer, to survive. Beings from a negative realm will try to get you to lower and misuse your energy. That’s the only way they can feed off of it. If they fed off of positive energy it would be most uncomfortable for them, maybe even kill them.” Marla warned of the dangers of carrying as much anger as I did.
"There are certain rituals, protection prayers, I'd like you to use."
"Thanks Ms. Williams. I appreciate your concern, but I assure you I'm in control."
"Be careful, Will, dark spirits have a way of getting inside. You won't even know it."
“Can we focus on my experience with the pen?” I asked. Dark spirits scared me sure, but I didn't have time for ritual. I needed immediacy. I needed results.
“This phenomenon occurs more often than you think.” Marla said. “Techniques for moving objects were quite common thousands of years ago. It's called Telekinesis. The ancient Egyptians used this knowledge to build the Pyramids.”
“Does it still exist?” I asked. “What happened to it?”
Marla smiled. "A few bad apples misused the power and sought personal gain at the expense of others. The enlightened people of the time quickly recognized the danger of such knowledge and hid it away. Saving it for those who prove themselves worthy enough to possess such powerful abilities."
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