“I can’t…it’s not like that. It’s the house. The house is making Mark act this way. It’s not him…not really. There’s something going on, Josh. I know, I know…it sounds stupid. I know how it sounds, but the house Mark and I bought a year ago…there’s something about it. Something bad. Evil. Trust me. What Mark is doing to me isn’t him. It’s the influence the house is having on him.” Melissa fell silent and took a deep breath, feeling twists and knots form in her stomach.
Josh clapped his hands. A loud, sharp sound in the silence of the office. “Well,” he said, a smile tipping at the corner of his mouth, “that’s the best story I’ve come across.”
Melissa flinched, as if she had been struck. What did I expect? She couldn’t find words, didn’t know whether to carry on or run out. She wanted to do both and none at the same time.
Josh shook his head. “It’s very common, actually,” he said at last. “It’s something you come across a lot.”
“What?” Melissa asked.
“The way we project our fears, our experiences onto others. It makes dealing with bad things easier to cope with. It’s much easier for your mind to digest the house being evil than it is for you to believe the man you love could raise his fist to you and treat you like this.”
Melissa laughed. This time it was real. “Shit. You really think that?”
Josh nodded. His words were slicing sharply into her mind, but she knew he believed what he saying, that he wasn’t simply saying it to belittle her. She felt she knew at least that much.
“You’re wrong,” Melissa rasped. “I know. I’ve seen things, Josh. Things that sound crazy but are true. I’m not mad. I’m not one of your psychiatric patients, so don’t analyze me. Please!”
Josh stepped back, as if letting air between them would cool down the situation. “What things, then?”
He’s looking for more evidence that I’m cracking up.
“I saw things in the house. I saw the figure of a woman in my kitchen. She was covered in blood, and then she just disappeared.”
Josh’s face remained still, expressionless. “Go on.”
“I saw…well, remember I told you Mark was having weird trances, where he’d have a conversation with people who weren’t there?”
Josh nodded.
“I filmed him the other night. He was talking, and…when I played it back, I saw it on the camera. This thing, this dark shadow was on the film, and Mark was talking to it.”
“We’re talking about ghosts?” Josh said, incredulously.
Melissa fell silent, again, knowing how it all sounded.
“Melissa, look I’m sorry about earlier. I was being an ass, I know that. I apologize, but I’m just frustrated. I’ve seen men like him before, and I’m not kidding with you. Some women end up dead before they admit there is a problem. I can’t see that happening with you.”
Melissa turned on him, a flare of anger rising in her stomach. “Why? Why the hell do you care, anyway?”
“It’s because I like you,” Josh retorted instantly. “A lot.” He looked away from her, his cheeks flushing red, and Melissa felt stunned.
“Like me…like how?”
“You’re not stupid,” he said flatly.
Melissa searched for a response, and she couldn’t find any. She felt a sense of disbelief, and—to her dismay—a hint of happiness that Josh felt that way about her. It had been so long since Mark—or anyone—had given her attention. Love. Passion. Interest. Any of it. Here Josh was—good looking and intelligent—and he was interested in her. She couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t flattered. She was. Any woman would be.
“I don’t know what to say to that,” she admitted truthfully.
“I know. I over-stepped the mark. I’m sorry.” He was still looking away, his eyes drawn to the window. Sunlight poured in, sending slivers of light across his face and across the desk.
“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “I’m flattered.”
Josh glanced at her and rolled his eyes. “Like I said, I over-stepped the mark. Can we forget what I said and start again—”
“No. I don’t want to forget.”
“What?”
Melissa walked over to him and placed her hand on his arm. She looked up at him, into his eyes, so that he couldn’t avoid her stare. “I want to remember. The last few months have been hell. I can’t remember the last time anyone…you know…made me feel special. Wanted. I know that sounds cheesy, but it’s true.”
“You’re married,” Josh said. “So, let’s move on. I can’t let this…I don’t know.” Melissa felt for him; he seemed suddenly like a lost, confused boy. Embarrassed. Like a rabbit caught in headlights.
She smiled. “If I wasn’t married—” she said, and she knew she didn’t have to finish the sentence.
Josh smiled back, his eyes warming, again. “Are you going to call the police?” he said.
Melissa felt a pang of annoyance return, but she tried to repress it. “What I’ve told you is true. I’ve seen things in our house. I genuinely believe that whatever is there, it’s influencing Mark. You don’t know him…I’ve known him for years, and what he’s doing isn’t him. I’d bet my life on it. I always had a nagging feeling there was something more to this whole thing.”
Josh raised his hands as if it resignation. “Well, there ends any help I can give you. I’ve told you what I think about that. I think we project our—”
“Yes! You told me, but I just know you’re wrong. I’m not projecting my fear onto the house. It’s real, and it’s happening.”
“What’re you going to do? Go ghost hunting while your husband keeps beating you? Hope he doesn’t end up killing you?” Josh’s voice remained calm, but Melissa knew he was frustrated.
“Give me time. I don’t know how, but I will find out what this thing is…I’ll have to take it from there.”
“I didn’t know you believed in such things.”
“You don’t know much about me at all,” she retorted. “Just so you know, until recently, I didn’t believe in any of that stuff. Though, sometimes you can’t ignore what’s happening right in front of your eyes.”
“Melissa…please consider what I said.”
Melissa nodded. “I will, if you’ll consider what I’ve been saying.” Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t.
“What will you do? Really?” he pressed, the sunlight closing in behind clouds, scattering shadows across the room, across his face.
“I have to find out more about who lived in the house before us. Grace and Richard Danvers. They lived there and experienced the same thing as Mark and me.”
“What? He hit his wife, too?”
Melissa nodded. “Weird, isn’t it?”
“Well, domestic abuse is surprisingly common—”
“Oh come on!” Melissa chided. “It’s more than a coincidence. The link between what happened to them and what’s happening now is just too strong.”
Josh stepped closer, reached his arms forward, and embraced Melissa. They remained close, their bodies pressed into each others, until Melissa suddenly—oddly—felt guilty about the contact and pulled away.
She said goodbye and promised to call him later.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The shift on the ward was slow, agonizingly slow. Time dripped like drops of water from a loose tap. The hands of the clock barely moved. Melissa kept thinking about Josh and his confession. Thinking about what he said sent a hot, fiery flush to the surface of her skin, and she tried to keep at bay how he’d looked at her, the way he said he felt about her.
It was a compliment. She was flattered, but even remembering his words presented a pang of guilt that fluttered relentlessly in her chest. Like an angry bird, desperate to flee.
She had to think of Mark. Remember the man he w
as, the man she might be able to help him become, again. The man she still loved—despite the things that had happened.
There was hope. She had to hold onto that much.
The steady beeps of monitors and BP machines filled the quiet, subdued air of Intensive Care. Melissa’s day had been fairly easy. She had done several bed baths, changed bedding from a patient that had passed away—another heart attack victim—and had taken routine blood pressures, EKG readings, and undertook the weekly stock check of medical supplies.
Now, she wanted to, needed to get out. It had been nagging at her all day—her desperation to find out where Richard Danvers was. She wanted to speak to him. He might know more, and he might tell her. He might be able to help. Even if it was a long shot, she had to try. What else was there to do?
“Penny for your thoughts?” Sharon said, creeping up beside her as she poured herself a cup of tea in the staff room.
“You know…” Melissa said, letting her voice trail.
“You look like shit.” Sharon said, her eyes running over Melissa, appraising her, analyzing her.
“Thanks. That’s the second time I’ve heard that today.”
“Sorry but…shit. When’s the last time you ate? You look like you’re wasting away, and the bags beneath your eyes…God, Mel. When are you going to wake up and smell the coffee? Realize that the bastard is slowing killing you.”
“Don’t you start…”
Sharon paused. Her face taut. “Huh? You’ve told someone else?”
“Josh Howell. The guy you gave my number to, the guy from the—”
“I know who he is!” Sharon snapped, her eyes glowing and her face instantly lightening. “So, you and he are close now, huh?”
Melissa rolled her eyes. “No. Not like that, anyway. We just spoke about everything.”
“What does he say?”
“He wants me to call the police.”
Sharon’s face fell serious. “I think he’s right. Look what he’s doing to you. The other night, I actually had a nightmare about you and Mark. The whole thing is like something from a horror movie. I actually feel scared for you. I’ve come close to calling the police, myself—”
“Don’t you dare!” Melissa snapped, feeling her frayed nerves coming close to a breaking point. “Don’t. I’m sorting it out, okay? Don’t call the police.”
Sharon stood there, frozen. “Fine. I’m trying to be a good friend, Mel. Push me away if you want, but you know what Josh and I are saying is right. You’re in denial if you think you can handle this.” Sharon turned and walked away, leaving her tea on the kitchen table.
* * * *
The rest of the shift went uneventfully. Nothing happened. The darkened, shadowy ward felt like a morgue…rows of people, eyes clamped shut, their bodies gaunt and covered by thin, white, bed sheets…skin gray under the glow of the monitors that were situated next to their beds. It all seemed disturbing to Melissa. More than usual.
By five o’clock, when Melissa stepped out of the hospital and into the parking lot, she was relieved to breathe in the cold, icy air. The sky had already begun to darken, the winter season stubbornly pushing away any remaining sunlight.
She wanted to cry. All day—especially since leaving Josh in his office that morning—she had felt raw, vulnerable. Melissa knew life was not always easy. She didn’t hold any irrational, unreasonable beliefs that good people deserved good things. That people who led good, decent lives necessarily had good luck, good health…Life never worked that way.
Things were bad, very bad, and she knew neither Mark nor her deserved what was happening.
Melissa reached her car and unlocked it, just as she felt the first splatter of rain tap the ground by her feet. She looked up and saw dark, brooding clouds shifting across the sky, knowing more heavy rain was on its way.
“Great,” she mumbled, jumping into the front seat.
She pulled on her seatbelt, turned on the ignition, and was about to pull out, when she heard her mobile phone ringing.
Melissa grabbed it from her bag and saw that Josh was calling. For a moment, she considered not answering—still feeling slightly awkward about their chat that morning—but she knew she’d feel bad doing that, possibly making things worse between them, so she answered.
“Hi. How has your day been?” Melissa dressed her voice in a light, casual tone, but she knew Josh would read through it.
He knows what a mess I am. What a mess I’m in.
“I’m glad I caught you. Are you still at work?” Josh asked.
“Well, I’m about to drive home. Why?”
“Where are you, now?”
Melissa sat back, turning off the engine. The car fell into thick silence. “I’m in the parking lot. About to drive home. What’s up?” She thought Josh sounded strained, on edge. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he said, “but I wanted to see you before you went home. I have something to show you, and it’s a little awkward, if you get my meaning.”
Melissa frowned, staring out of the window as heavy rain tapped like fingernails against the glass. It was pouring now, the sky blackening with ugly, shadowy clouds. “I don’t really get your meaning. Do you want me to come over to your office?”
“I’ll come to you. Where are you parked?”
Ten minutes later, Melissa saw Josh running toward her car. He was wearing a long, black coat—elegant, she thought—and holding a briefcase over his head, sheltering himself from the onslaught of rain.
Melissa reached over and opened the passenger door for him, and he saddled in, pulling the door shut behind him.
He swept in cold, fresh air with him. His wet coat was dripping small drops of water onto the floor and seat, and as he lifted his briefcase onto his lap, he smiled at her and said “hi”, all the while avoiding her eyes.
He still feels awkward. About his feelings.
Melissa tried to nudge the tense atmosphere away and smiled back, nodding toward the case resting on his knees. “What have you got in there? FBI files or something? Why the big secret?”
Josh seemed to relax, his shoulders loosening up a bit. He smiled over at her, again. “Well, this kind of has to be secret, Melissa, or I could get into big trouble.”
“What’s going on?” she pressed. She felt tired—no, exhausted—and wanted desperately to get home, get to bed, perhaps without even eating dinner. Melissa had never felt so drained. She worried about her drive home, because she had felt so drowsy all day.
Josh ran a hand through his dark hair. Sighing, he looked at her as if he was contemplating something serious, something that unsettled him. “I recognized the names you gave me this morning,” he said at last, looking over at her. Meeting her eyes for the first time.
“The names?”
“Grace and Richard Danvers.”
“Shit. You’re kidding me! You knew these people?” Melissa gasped.
Josh, saying nothing, fumbled with the lock on his briefcase and pulled out a thin, green folder. It was slightly bigger than A4, and on the top, left hand corner was a sticker:
PATIENT: RICHARD DANVERS
PATIENT REFERENCE NO: 427389
REFERRED TO: PSYCHIATRIC UNIT; DR. JOSH HOWELL
“Josh! He was your patient? Why didn’t you—I can’t believe this.”
Josh turned from her and stared out at the splinters of rain plummeting against the car and shrugged. “I didn’t know, not at first. When you said the name Danvers, I knew it rang a bell. After you left, the name kept nagging me. You have to remember, I see a hell of a lot of patients, so names come up, and I don’t remember half of them…” His voice died, and he turned back to her. After a moment, he said, “I looked it up. Saw the file on Richard. Then, it came back to me—who he was and why I’d seen him. Then…well, let’s just say, Me
lissa. I’m a rational man, but what I saw hit me like a brick.”
Melissa stared down at the file on Josh’s lap. She wanted to read it, but she paused, waiting. Her heart began thundering, and she knew Josh had learned something.
Something important. Or he wouldn’t have come.
“Josh, what is it? I need to know.”
“Well, either there are a lot of deluded people out there, or you might be onto something about that house. You were right—it must be more than coincidence.”
“Why? Tell me, Josh. What’s in that file? What did Richard tell you?”
Josh cleared his throat. Staring down at the green file and fingering it, running his fingers along the edge of it. “I only saw Richard a handful of times, hence the thin file. I saw him after Grace had committed suicide. He was a mess. Completely broken down. When I say mess, I mean, he was sane and everything, but he was just a shell of a man after his loss.”
“The man who beat and raped Grace was suffering from grief, because he drove his wife to suicide,” Melissa said aloud to herself. “Doesn’t make sense, does it?”
Josh didn’t say anything for a moment, then he shifted in his seat, handing her the file. “I’m breaking a lot of rules doing this, Melissa. You can have a look now, but I need to return it, tonight. It’s mostly medical history, GP history, whatever. There are other things in there, though. Things he said that I noted down.”
“Can you wait while I read it?” Melissa asked, reaching over and taking the file from him.
Josh nodded. “Melissa,” he said, his face pale in the half-light, “It’s weird. The things he said matched with what you were saying. Things about the house. At the time, I thought he was in some sort of denial, like a coping mechanism…it’s common. In the context of what you said this morning, it’s just eerie.”
Melissa nodded, hungry to read whatever it was that had disturbed Josh so much. She thanked him for what he was doing—knowing what a risk it was to share confidential patient records—and opened the file.
She shuffled past pages of his date of birth, address, GP history, and found some handwritten notes at the back. Written by Dr. J. Howell.
The Banishing Page 14