“What are you doing in here?”
“I thought…I just I wanted to see…”
“See if they liked your gift? Are you serious?” Nathan moved further into the room, peering over Evan’s shoulder as he mended to the frame. “Well no wonder they dumped it, its crap! I wouldn’t bother with it anyway, Dad’s on a business trip and Ange is back with her sister. Here’s an idea, why don’t you just go and hang out with that little old lady, huh?”
Evan’s back stiffened, his knuckles curled in white. He sprang up and punched as hard as he could into Nathan’s chest but his fist fell off course and side swiped Nathan’s hip. In turn, Nathan threw his fist out, knocking Evan in the side of the head. Evan tumbled over, crashing to the floor and clutching at his scalp where Nathan had landed his punch. Nathan was quick to leave, rubbing at his knuckles as if he was surprised at the contact. Evan didn’t get up from his spot on the floor. This was the first time I had seen him cry, through the sobs I caught low mutterings of “They don’t care…they never cared.”
I wanted to scoop him up into my arms and hug him until his tears stopped, but when I leaned down, my hands faded through his foggy body. This is just his memory. I cannot help him.
This was when little Evan, cheerful and innocent, started to morph into Lock. Piece by piece, the family started to break up and day by day Evan sunk into depression, filled with a strong hatred of them. Uncle Ray was never home, consumed in his own world of young women and Aunty Ange wasn’t any comfort to the boys as she detached herself completely from the family and often left home without notice visit her sister for long periods of time. Nathan was mixing with the wrong crowd, while Jordon locked himself up in his room, his presence of protection and warmth for Evan also withdrawing. I was starting to feel such sadness for Evan, for with each passing memory I watched, his face never cracked a smile. During all meals, school activities and sports events, Evan was isolated from his peers and teachers, always sitting with his own company, left to watch as the other boys screamed in laughter at their games.
The next time I saw a change in facial reaction was when everyone was crowded in the lounge room of the house and there were two blue uniformed policemen standing with a note pad out. They both faced a deeply worried Uncle Ray who was burying his forehead into his open palm. Evan stood at the back corner of the room, next to the door frame, while the rest of the family paced and ate away their fingernails. Jordon has been missing for some time and the police were promising to start a search party immediately. He’d just vanished, and along with him disappeared Evan’s only saviour and friend.
The smog around me became thicker as I tagged along behind Evan, marching home from school with his eyes chipped into an icy glare. Above and around him, parents were whispering behind folded hands, shaking their heads in pity and holding their children close to their sides.
“There’s the youngest Hasting child, again. And look, still no parents, I see. What could possibly be more important than their child’s own performance?” Their whispers were barely whispers at all, as if they wanted to be heard by him as he scurried past. I glanced around, reading signs that pointed to a large stone-built school and a billboard advertising a fundraising concert. And sticking out of Evan’s unzipped bag were ruffled the pages of his music book; the sheets crippled with age.
“Poor little boy, no one from his family turned up again. Even after he tried so hard…what a sad thing.”
Evan ran as hard and fast as he could into the forest. His bag was thrown from his back as the trees caught and tore at his uniform, trying to slow him down. I could hear his mutterings, “They don’t care, they don’t care.”
Together, we raced back to the house where Evan slipped through the door in silence, looking up through blood shot eyes to Aunty Ange who was on the couch, watching the fire flicker. Next to her was Nathan, staring at the television. He stormed up to his room, kicking things over, tearing posters and pictures from his walls. His eyes were flared wildly; he was completely consumed with the mad roar of his rage.
From his bedroom windows he could still here the distant hum of cars and voices on their leisurely stroll home from the concert. Evan slapped two hands over his ears, the soft noise seeming to be unbearable for him. “It’s not fair! WHY NOT ME?” I was struggling to keep up with the madness as he fled into the halls.
At the end of the hall was a single door. He kicked it open and ducked inside. It lead to the attic entrance. The room was coated in a bed of spider webs and dust, and as Evan climbed up the wooden stairway to the attic, I caught the sounds of knocking coming from back down the hallway. There was rapid tapping against the front door that I had almost missed before a bustle of voices, drunken perhaps, dribbled in ghostly waves. Nathan bolted out the door before disappearing into the night.
Aunty Ange left not too long after, locking the door behind her and carrying a suitcase large enough for a month’s travel. I checked on Evan again but he appeared oblivious to the empty house.
He’d rushed inside the attic and slammed the door shut, ramming in the key into the padlock to secure it so no one could open it, before kicking the key underneath the door through the gap. He sat down in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. He wasn’t going to leave unless someone cared enough to search for him; that was his claim. But, unbeknownst to him, Evan was alone. The thought dawned on him when, after 4 hours of not a single sound, panic started to rise across his face.
Everything seemed to be happening in rapid jolt; his desperate cries for attention, the banging and shouting against the door, how he tried to squeeze his fingers under the door to fetch the key back and the useless attempts to reach the high window near the roof of the attic. He cried out for Jordon more than he cried out for his parents. His screams, constant and loud, scratched his voice.
He’d stacked all of the boxes up against the wall, but they were not high enough for me to reach the window. Slowly, as more and more time slipped by, Evan started to grow weary and sick. He stopped pacing the floors and calling for his brother. He caught a fever and struggled to remain conscious, his nails already chewed through as his chest took in sharp hollow breaths. I could feel the ache in his stomach start to melt with the air, but there was nothing I could do. I had to sit here with him, watching him fade into his own shadow, watching the sun rise and fall through the window and the soundless creak of the empty house. Eventually he stopped trying, his face calm, though intense, as he set up an old cassette player at the back of the room. A soft melody of a piano accompanied with violins and flutes flittered out of the ruined speakers, the music was so supple and slow. I recognized it instantly, that same chorus of notes following each other like a woven braid of tapestry; it was Jordon’s song.
This was the place where he died.
I spun on my heel, running into the mess of the fog, screaming out until my chest strained, “He’s in here! He’s in here! HELP HIM! PLEASE!?! SOMEONE!?!... SOMEONE???’
I tried to hammer the doors, but no there was no noise from my efforts. It was foolish of me to believe that I could save him. He started to climb the boxes once more, but he was weak and clumsy, falling back as he reached out to grab the window. Time slowed to his final moment. Just as the sun was setting, shooting light through the circular window above Evan’s head did he tilt back and fall to his death. With his face turned, he let his last breath skim free over the dust.
You can’t leave, the door is locked… It’s always locked.
“They never cared…”
Chapter Twenty-Seven:
My body was aching; this was the first thing I could feel outside the thumping of my heartbeat. The darkness behind my eyelids started to peel open, just a small crack through a blurry lens. I fluttered my eyelashes twice to clear the tears before I sprang up, searching the floor next to me where Evan had been placed to sleep. But the patch was bare and cold. Everything around me was nothing but a stretch of brown, the gym walls and roof top, the marks where magi
c had scorched the walls. No one was here.
I tried to stand but my legs wobbled in refusal so I remained slouched. The fight between the Spirits, what had happened in the end? Did any of the Banished spirits survive? Betrayal? Nails or Sabotage? I cupped my forehead in my struggle to remember. All I could think of was Evan, his upturned eyes watching his brother master the piano right up to the point where he rolled over and let his breath roll out.
I had watched his family break in half and felt powerless to stop it. I felt how Evan must’ve. Weak and useless, and betrayed by the very people that were meant to protect him. But now, even though I wanted nothing more than to trap him in my arms, he had vanished. That smile, his last haunting smile, as if he were happy to let everything go.
“Rach? Good you’re awake...”
My eyes darted to the patch of darkness across the room. Sitting in the far corner, with his head leaned up against the window, waited a shadowy silhouette. He kept to the shadows and picked at the dirt off his jeans before sprinkling them back across the floorboards.
“Who’s there?”
“There’s no need to worry, it’s just me.”
“Dean?”
His face perked up. I motioned for him to come closer and, obediently, he did. He scooted over just far enough so I could dimly recognise his facial features before leaning back onto his elbows.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. But I couldn’t leave you here alone.”
“What happened here?” The muscles in my face had tightened uncomfortably; it felt like one of those mornings where you found yourself waking up to a head cold.
“It was pretty messy, only a few Banished spirits actually got way. They only waited long enough for you to fully pass out and once Lock started to vanish, they all ran off with the rest of their Hosts. The abandoned Hosts lost their memory of how they got there, and eventually they went back home, too. But only after some serious explaining…”
“Ah, my head is killing me! How long was I out for?”
“Nearly a day. I wasn’t sure if I was meant to move you or what, so I decided to just wait it out until you woke…”
“You waited an entire day? Thank you so much Dean, that’s really kind.”
“It’s okay…this is yours too.” Dean reached into his jacket pocket and passed over the Hemi Spike blade, “I was actually hoping you could do me a favour?”
“Alright…”
“I don’t know what it is … heh, most of the Banished don’t know what it is, but you’ve got some sort of strong connection with Banished spirits. If Hunters are tracking you down, it means you’re a threat to them, and that you could be the one to finally save everybody. I just… I just wish I could’ve saved Nicole like you saved Lock.”
I pulled my head up hastily. I hadn’t saved him, he had still died and suffered and I did absolutely nothing.
“I didn’t save him… In the end, he had still died.”
“You watched his memories of when he was a human, didn’t you?”
I nodded gently, “How did you know?”
“They tried to take Nicole from me, but one of the Reapers became distracted and his Goon accidently let her go. She was injured badly, and had to restore some of her health by what they call ‘Re-connecting’ to their spiritual core. It took a lot of me; I collapsed, completely blacked out. I guess it’s how spirits heal themselves, by restarting from point of death.”
“Oh…” My lips folded inwards, “And Sabotage… I mean Nicole, did she forget you?”
Dean sighed softly, “…Yeah.”
The two hours of public transport felt like the most excruciating exam, the tension in my joints and forehead starting to feel as if they were about to burst into flame. What would I say to him? What can I do now? I had to get there quickly; even just thinking about him suffering made me want to scream. I was thankful for Dean’s company; the last thing I wanted was to be alone.
Dean sat next to the window while I sat opposite him. Around us, the city crowd joined and left. I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed Dean inching in closer to me.
“I just wanted to let you know how grateful I am for you helping me out. You’re a pretty cool chick.”
“Thanks, but I gotta confess something…it was my fault. I didn’t mean to lead the Hunters to the others. If it wasn’t for me, Nicole would have never...” My voice wavered as I tried to control myself. It was my fault, it was me who revealed to the Hunters our hideout and served the Banished as dinner to the Reapers. His hand shocked me as it glided up, caressing underneath my chin, tilting my neck so I could look into his earthy brown eyes.
“They tricked you Rachael; no one blames you for what they did or what had happened.” He released my face after a few moments. My heart raced out of uncertainty and only doubled when he placed his head gently on top of mine. In such need of comfort, I didn’t have the heart to push him away, so I allowed Dean to rest.
The plaster of dew sprinkled across the train windows, starting to melt under the sun, the hot ball of heat tiptoeing beneath the clouds and into the watermelon pink sky. By the time the train rocked to a stop, both of our stomachs were growling for food. Dean tapped my shoulder as we both rose and trailed out.
“Where is this, exactly?” Dean questioned as we entered the dirt path.
“Whitehaven. We’ve got a small holiday house just a small hike from the station. Dad was given possession for it a few years back when my Uncle and his family all left town…”
We reached the house; the wild overgrowth had receded since I was last here. The trees’ mouldy bark looked to have been chiselled away by the rain and the dirt roads had been trampled into mud. Perhaps Mum had been busy with some gardening. With Dean at my heels, I motioned for him to wait outside as I stepped up to the front door and let myself in. The noise overwhelmed me at first, catching me off guard, and next was the smell of pumpkin soup cooking.
Mum was darting in between the cupboards, pulling out sauce pans and emptying out trays to stack the dishes on. I went to call out her name when my grandma Beth took my cheeks and held my head between her skeletal hands. She planted two cheek kisses on my face.
“Glad to see you could make it back dear.” Her stain red lip stick was smeared across her front teeth like usual, “How are you feeling darling? Are you coping alright?”
I nodded subtly. The entire living room was filled with my relatives, all dressed in black, sipping down cups of tea. I counted the days on my fingers only to realize today is dad’s funeral. I bit back my guilt and relief that I had turned up on the right day. There was no coffin, just a white linen table stacked with picture frames of him, decorated around a single vase with flowers.
“Rachael! Oh, good there you are!” Mum sounded exhausted as she called from the kitchen, “What’s happened to you? You’re all banged up, what’s wrong with your hand? And why didn’t you answer your mobile? I’ve been trying to contact you for hours!”
She looked older. It had only been about 5 days since I saw her last, but she had aged terribly. For nearly two weeks I have been possessed by a Banished spirit, yet it was mum who looked to be withering away. I suppose stress is its own type of Banished spirit.
“I’m sorry, I tripped and hurt my hand crossing the road, and I broke my phone when I dropped it…”
“Rachael, you shouldn’t be so careless, you could seriously get hurt.” She sighed heavily, “Well… we’re not going to start discussing this now as long as you’re safe. I have some spare clothes for you up stairs.” She wiped her hands clean across her apron before turning on her heel and going back to the kitchen.
I headed straight past my bedroom and up the attic steps. The nerves inside me were so powerful I could feel them try and lift me off my feet. The stairs creaked underneath me as all my weight was collecting in the pit of my stomach. The closed attic door was coated in a blanket of dust. It blended in well with the rest of the wall. Was it absurd of me to believe that Evan would s
till be waiting here? I wasn’t sure of what I was expecting, but the last time I’d seen him, he had curled himself up to sleep up here in the attic. It seemed to be the only possible answer.
Fingers twitching, I leaned forward and I had to take a moment to collect my nerves. The sweat on my fingers felt like glue, sticking my palms closed as I wiped them clean against my top. I paused for just a brief moment, eyes still lowered to my wiping hands.
“… Did she forget you?”
“…Yeah.”
Nicole had forgotten Dean.
A deep pain pinched my chest. This means, that on the other side of this door, though he’ll look like Lock, I would be a stranger to him. A stranger with a short life span and Banished fate. I would smell repulsive to him. My body recoiled on its own. I couldn’t face him, I couldn’t bear to imagine that those eyes are going to look up at mine and stare at me in that frozen glare. I backed away from the door, convinced that I was going to hurl from my nerves, when I had noticed that were wasn’t a door handle left. The wood had been chipped and torn through perhaps by a crowbar or some sort of axe. The door… it had been opened? Someone must’ve chopped away the hinges in an attempt of rescuing him.
I moved on, pulling the door toward me.
The circular window sat high on the opposite wall, pouring in the outside light. But there was no sign of Evan. I tiptoed further into the space heading straight for the centre where Evan had laid himself down, but still nothing. No white marked outline or body imprint on top of the dust. I whispered his name. Nothing.
I was ready to search the house, perhaps his old room or the neighbour’s porch, when I nearly rolled my ankle tripping on the old CD player.
I pushed button and the melody started to play softly.
There was a soft whistle as smoke twisted upwards through the floorboards in the middle of the room into a spiralling circle. The smoke darkened and solidified, building the exact copy of Evan’s fourteen year old body dressed in his old shirt and school pants. He tilted his exhausted neck up to catch my eyes. His skin was stretched white and the ash painted his face like a fever. The concentrated green of his eyes melted my toes into the wood, but though I recognised those eyes, they merely blinked back at me numbly.
My Demonic Ghost: Banished Spirits Page 22