“I’m feeling a little more tired than usual. I think this whole moving thing is more overwhelming than I expected. Plus, I still haven’t’ heard back about from Carver Mental Health about the job. It’s got me on pins and needles.”
“Maybe you should lie down for a while.”
“And miss the pizza? No way. I’m sure I’ll be okay once I’ve got some food in me. Let’s go downstairs.” I said when I felt his eyes looking at me the way John always started to look at me after we talked for more than a couple of minutes.
Don’t get me wrong, John is good looking and smart too. Any girl would be lucky to have his attention the way I do, but after the incident with Ryder, I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy his attempts at affection. Plus, moving, starting school, and worrying about the job had become overwhelming. I didn’t have enough mental energy left over for a guy right now, but I wouldn’t be mad if John was still interested when I did.
Chapter Three
The next morning, I woke up with my head splitting and my stomach on fire. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. It took a few moments for the feeling of complete disorientation to subside. Then I remembered I was in my new place.
The night before came rushing back to me as sunlight sliced into my pounding brain. I turned half expecting to find John in bed with me, but I was alone. I got up to look out the window and saw that Kenny’s car was gone. John’s truck was in the driveway.
I made my way down the hall to the guest bedroom, and the entire time, the walls around me and floor under my feet listed as if I were on a cruise ship. I reached for the wall to steady myself, and my stomach roiled in protest with every step.
There was no way I was this hungover from a few beers. Then, I remembered Kenny breaking out a bottle of tequila around ten. He’d had it in his car in case we decided to party beyond afternoon beer and pizza. Well, afternoon beer and pizza turned into six o’clock beer, and Chinese delivery which turned into ten p.m. tequila shots and a heavy make out session with John.
I’d stumbled upstairs and passed out, but I had no idea what time. When I’d gone to bed, everyone else was still downstairs talking and drinking. I made it to the doorway of the guest bedroom and thought for a moment that I must have been dreaming.
“What the hell?” I said and immediately felt my ears start to ring and my temples throb.
John shot up out of the bed as if he as though there was a snake under the covers with him. In truth, the only thing in the bed with him was Riley. Riley sat up groggily completely unaware of what was going on around her.
“It’s not what you think,” Joh said, but I could tell by the look on his face he didn’t know if that was true or not.
“Oh yeah, then what is it?” I could barely contain my anger. “Riley was just telling me how much she wants Tanner to come home, and now this? What about you, John, you’re supposed to be his friend. And, mine too.”
“It’s really not what you think, Sammy,” Riley said and got up. “Please stop yelling. Please.”
“Then tell me what it is, Riley. I’d love to hear this.”
“I came in here and slept because I didn’t want to sleep on the floor. That’s all. John was already asleep under the covers, and I laid down on top.” She had been on top of the comforter when I’d come in, and they both were fully dressed. But, it still didn’t make any sense.
“Then why didn’t you come sleep in my bed?” I asked.
“There was already someone in your bed.” She said, and then her mouth fell open when she comprehended what she said.
“What?”
“Wait, hold on,” Riley said, and I watched the wheels turning in her head as she pondered her statement. “Okay, so after you had gone to bed, John came up here and laid down. Kenny, Lance, and I stayed downstairs. I’m so sorry, Sammy, but they broke out a bag of weed, and we rolled a couple of joints.”
“You smoked in my new house?” I crossed my arms and gave her my most withering scowl.
“Like I said, I’m sorry. I was drunk, and we should have gone outside.”
“Go on.” I bit my lip to keep the wave of nausea that hit me from turning into a full-on vomit.
“Anyway, the stuff they had must have been laced with something because everything got really weird after we smoked up. We started hearing noises coming from the basement, and then it moved to the attic. Then there was something scratching at the basement door. After that, it got super quiet. As soon as it stopped, Kenny passed out on the couch, and Lance grabbed a chair cushion and laid down on the floor. I stumbled upstairs and saw you sleeping. I didn’t lay down with you because it looked like there was a man next to you. I figured it was John. When I got to the guest bedroom, John was asleep in the bed. At that point, I thought it must have been Kenny or Lance.”
“How would they have gotten upstairs before you, Riley?” I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“I don’t know, Sammy. Like I said, I was super drunk and stoned. I mean, I hallucinated a man in your bed. It was probably one of your three thousand fancy pillows.”
“You think you hallucinated a man in my bed?” I asked and felt my heart rate come down a little bit.
“Yeah, Sam. What else would it be? That pot must have been laced with something cause I doubt anything was scratching on your basement door either.”
“I’m sorry, Sammy,” John said. “I didn’t know she’d passed out here, or I would have brought her into your room.”
“It’s okay. We should see about some breakfast. I’m suddenly famished.” I said as the relief washed over me.
“You’ll have to take me home first. Tanner is expecting to Skype with me this morning. You two can go get pancakes or something.” Riley said as she stood up. “Jeez, Sammy. Do you have a sweater I could borrow? It’s freezing in here.”
I spent the rest of the weekend relaxing in my new home and shaking off the rest of the hangover from hell. John and I returned the moving truck after breakfast, and then he took off for work.
My mom came over late Sunday afternoon with a trunk full of kitchen wares and place settings from the fancy department store she loved. I helped her carry it all into the kitchen and put it away despite having some lingering stomach and head issues.
“You didn’t have to do all of this,” I said as I put the professional grade pots and pans away. “I don’t even cook much.”
“Well, maybe these will inspire you. If not, perhaps you’ll find yourself a man who will use them.”
I groaned, but she was right. A man who could cook would be a blessing considering that I could burn water. I found my thoughts drifting to whether John could cook, and then chastised myself internally. I wanted to believe that nothing had happened between him and Riley, but it was just another reason not to get involved.
After she had left, I took a nap. When I woke up, it was morning, and I had to get ready for class. About the time I was grabbing my keys and heading out the door, I remembered that my car was still parked outside the dorm. I’d never gone back to pick it up.
I called John and asked him to pick me up on his way to class. He showed up a few minutes later with hot coffees from a local place. It was clear he was still trying to make up for the other night.
“I’m sorry I had to call you.”
“You don’t ever have to be sorry that you called me, Sammy.”
His earnestness and sincerity, coupled with the fact that he’d picked me up for school with no notice, were enough that I’d practically forgiven him by the time we got to the campus. I really didn’t have anything to be mad at him for anyway. Even if he had been with Riley, it wasn’t like he was my boyfriend. That mess would have been between him, Riley, and Tanner. Still, a part of me was glad that he remained an option.
My first class was a humanities elective that I’d been putting off. I’m not sure why I’d never signed up for one because it was the last non-nursing class I needed to graduate. I guess it’s because I’d already taken psycholo
gy and sociology and nothing that interested me had been offered.
Since I’d put it off, I had to take what was available. That turned out to be a theology class. It wasn’t Intro to Theology but was a class about religion and psychology. I had to get the professor to sign off on me taking the class since I hadn’t taken the prerequisites.
Professor Hobbs stopped me on my way into the classroom and told me that he’d paired me up with another student who had taken the prerequisites. In fact, Cameron was a theology major and had agreed to assist me with any background information I might not be familiar with since I’d never taken any classes on religion or divinity.
“Did the professor blackmail you into helping me?” I said as I sat down next to Cameron.
“What do you mean?” he responded with a confused smile.
“Did Professor Hobbs threaten to give you a B or something if you didn’t help me?”
“Why would he have to do that?”
“Because helping me is extra work for you, and we’re all just trying to get out of here in one piece.”
“I didn’t really look at it that way.”
“Oh, right. Are you becoming a priest or something?”
“That’s a long story that I’ll have to tell you another time because it looks like class is about to start.” He said and smiled at me again.
It was then that I appreciated the fact that Cameron might end up being a distraction this semester. He was devastatingly good-looking and had this sweet, innocent demeanor that was utterly endearing.
The first class went by in a flash as Professor Hobbs laid out how he intended to present the class and what the work expectations were. We got a homework assignment to write a brief essay on an experience we’d had with religion.
This was when I remembered why I didn’t want to take a humanities elective. We had to write an essay for our first assignment? I had my nursing classes, which tended to be intensive and time-consuming, plus labs and clinical practices. That didn’t even account for work if I got the job. If I didn’t get the job at Carver, I’d have to find a job somewhere else.
“What does the rest of your day look like?” Cameron asked me when the class was over.
“Hmm. I have nursing classes until around three, and then that’s it since it’s the first day. Normally I’d have lab or clinical, but we don’t start that until next week.” I found myself wondering if he was going to ask me out, and it caught me off guard that I was actually hoping he did.
“Oh, you’re going to be a nurse?” He said and turned toward me so that our knees were almost touching.
“Well, technically I am already a nurse. I went ahead and became a Licensed Practical Nurse after my sophomore year even though I’m going for my bachelor degree. I’ll take the state licensing exam to become a Registered Nurse after graduation.”
“Wow, so are you working anywhere?” He said and then blushed a bit. “I’m sorry, Samantha. I’m being really nosey.”
“It’s okay. I’m actually waiting to hear back from the Carver Mental Health Center about a position.”
“Oh, you’re going to be a psychiatric nurse, then.” He said and smiled. “That’s so cool.”
“I think so too,” I said feeling elevated by his interest. “I’ve always loved psychology, but I had no desire to be a doctor. I want to be involved in direct patient care.”
“That sounds amazing.”
“You’re the first person to say that,” I said. “Most people tell me they can’t believe I’d want to do that job. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, though.”
“Wow. I wish I knew what I wanted to do with my life.” He said with a chuckle. “But we’ll have to talk about that later. I don’t want to be the reason you’re late to your next class.”
“Yeah, I guess I should be going.”
“Can you meet me down in the cafeteria when your last class is over? We could knock out our essays before you go home for the day.”
“You really think we can get them done that fast?”
“Heck yes.” He said confidently.
“I’ll see you then.”
My next class was one of two of my main nursing classes. Dr. Henrietta had been my primary nursing instructor for my entire degree, and I was glad for it. She was hard but fair, and I don’t think I’d have become half as good of a nurse as I did without her unrelenting expectations. Only about half of the people who started the bachelor program finished it because of her rigorous standards, but because of this, the college had the reputation of turning out some of the best nurses in the state.
Dr. Henrietta pulled me aside after class for a chat. After the usual pleasantries about how our breaks went, she got down to business.
“You know that the practicum requirement for this year is intense.” She said, but Dr. Henrietta could barely contain her smile. “Well, I’ve convinced the college that you should be able to use your employment at Carver in place of unpaid practical experience.”
“But, Dr. Henrietta, I haven’t been offered a position yet. I haven’t heard anything from them since my second interview.”
“You haven’t officially been extended an offer yet, but I have it on good authority that one is coming any day now.”
“Oh, wow. That’s amazing. Thank you so much for telling me.”
“When it does, you’ll need to let me know. I’ve got a form for you to fill out and another one for your employer to sign granting permission for you to use your job as a practicum.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know right away.”
After that, I met Cameron in the cafeteria. I hadn’t been raised any particular religion, so my essay was about a time that I went to Sunday school with a friend after a sleepover. It was basically about me being incredibly bored for a half hour and then eating cookies.
“My story is a little different. I had some time to think about it this afternoon, and I’m not sure I should tell you. Sometimes I forget that not everyone believes the same things as my family and old friends.” Cameron said.
“Oh, well now you have to tell me.” I leaned in because he’d defiantly captured my attention.
“Are you sure? You said you went to your friends Methodist Sunday school, but have you ever known anyone who was non-denominational or maybe Pentecostal.”
“You mean holy rollers?” I said with a giggle and then immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Is that what your family is?”
“It’s okay. We get that kind of response all of the time. I guess I shouldn’t say we. I was heavily involved with the church when I was younger, but I’m trying to distance myself from it. Let’s just say that I no longer share their beliefs.”
“But, you’re here studying theology.”
“My family members are true believers, but we’re not rich. I’m from a small, destitute town in Texas.”
“Wait, you’re from Texas?” I interrupted. “You don’t have an accent.”
“Haha. I know. I’ve worked on that since I got here. I’ve been able over the last three years to train myself to speak without an accent.” He said and flashed me that same endearing smile.
“Okay, sorry. Go on.”
“The church my family goes to is one of those mega churches you see in the news with thousands of members in the congregation.”
“And a charismatic millionaire preacher,” I added.
“Yeah, that too,” Cameron said. “But it wasn’t always that way. At one point when I was a kid, we were a tiny congregation that met in an elementary school gym on Sunday mornings. We didn’t even have a building. The church has, of course, grown since then. My family is considered one of the founding families, but my parents are simple people. My mother is a waitress, and my father does manual labor. They never sought more money or material comforts and gave a huge chunk of what little money they made to the church. A lot of poor families did, and it’s one of the reasons the church is so prominent, and wealthy, today. Anyway, dad was going to get
me a job doing construction after high school, but my mom wanted me to get a college education. Dad didn’t think that was a good idea. He said that the world would corrupt me and a liberal education would drive me straight to the devil. So, Mom asked the church to send me to school to get a degree in theology. She sees me as the next church leader. The entire congregation came together and prayed for hours, and in the end, they decided that I should go. The church took up a collection, and my entire education has been paid for.”
“There’s a hitch isn’t there?” I asked sensing he hadn’t told me everything.
“Not a big one. They certainly expect me to come back to Texas as soon as I graduate and take a position with the church.”
“And you’re not planning on going back?” I asked, but I could already tell that’s what he’d meant.
“No. I don’t believe the way they do. My Dad was right I guess. I’ve been corrupted by the world.”
“Or maybe you’ve been enlightened.”
“Perhaps.” He said and rubbed his chin. “I still believe in a higher power and know there is good and evil in this world. But, I can’t endorse the way they package it. All of the preachings about fire and brimstone seems overly sensationalized to me. As does the speaking in tongues and slaying of the spirit.”
“Slaying of the spirit?”
“It’s when you’re touched, and you pass out. You’d have to see it.”
“That sounds intriguing.” And it was. I couldn’t believe there were actually people out there who lived their lives around this stuff. It seemed like mental illness to me.
“The thing is, Samantha, they talk about a demon of religion. It’s something they say afflicts Catholics, and well, pretty much any other church that isn’t theirs. But sometimes I wonder if they aren’t blinded to the fact that a demon of religion has infiltrated our church. What was once a small group of people who were focused on the word of God has become this mega church of leadership and members who are fixated on money and power.”
“So, you do believe in demons?”
Dark Ends: A Horror Collection Page 20