by Anthology
IT FELT as though he was drowning, pulled into the depths of a dark lake that contained all the things he’d wished to have left behind when he met Greyson all those years ago. Free falling to the bottomless pit he thought he might never return from, Bailey saw so many moments of his life he assumed he’d left in the past. Thousands of images, like faded photographs, became clearer. Of days he’d longed to forget, laughing from within as the screams intensified. He wanted to call out for help, yet when he opened his mouth no sound left his lips.
Consumed by panic, he fought against the darkness, pushing at the black nothing engulfing him. Even knowing his attempts would be futile, he still struggled while trying to pierce the laughter and screams with his voice. When he felt someone latch on to his hand and pull him back to a faint light, he gasped Greyson’s name.
It wasn’t him though, only the stranger with his lover’s face.
Even though he knew it wasn’t Greyson, Bailey held the angel as tight as he would have if it had indeed been Greyson who pulled him from the shadowy lake. His eyes struggled to focus, and he had to strain to hone in on the familiar features of Greyson like he was looking through net curtains or a frosted window on a winter’s morning. It wasn’t long before the angel was as bright as he’d been before Bailey had fallen into the nothing.
Bailey was relieved to hear the cries no longer and found comfort in the silence he once hated.
“You must try not to allow your fears to consume you, Bailey,” the angel urged, holding him to his chest. “I have faith you will return to the light, but to get there you need to find the strength to move on and pass through four doors.”
“Four... doors?” Bailey asked, not sure he liked the tone the angel’s voice had taken on.
The angle nodded with a somber expression. “Four doors you must pass to return home, all with a darkness of their own.”
Afraid to see the darkness around him again, Bailey buried his face in the angel’s chest and shook his head as he spoke. “I just want to... to wake up and be with Greyson again.”
He swallowed a scream when the angel gently pushed him from his body so he could look into the boy’s eyes. It took all Bailey had not to give in to the call of Purgatory’s hungry lips, whose unwanted allure could so easily whisper to his weaknesses.
“Focus on Greyson, you will need him in your heart if you are ever to be free from this place.”
Bailey took a deep breath to calm himself as best he could, allowing Greyson’s voice to cast a calming spell over him. His love for the man was the source of strength he needed, yet at the same time he feared he’d be unable to hold onto it. Still, it helped to loosen the grip he hadn’t realized he’d tightened on the angel’s arm.
He wasn’t sure why, but Bailey nodded his head when he felt himself turned against his will. Then he wanted to scream no, that he wasn’t ready, because he found himself standing in an atmospheric version of his childhood home.
Four walls and five rooms of misery.
Before him was the place in which he’d grown up, where his first demons dwelled. Like then, his small bedroom was cast in a low, grim light that always emulated his nightmares. He gripped the hands around his waist, wanting to turn himself back around, when Greyson’s loving, strong voice entered his head.
“I love you, B. You can do this.”
Bailey calmed and somehow found the room less daunting. No longer was he overcome with the need to find the cupboard he used to hide in as a child. Sure, the place was as frightening, with its cracked walls and trash-covered floor, but something was missing. It was this something he thought Greyson was protecting him from until the door in the corner of the room opened with an earth-shattering creak.
Door One
AROUND THE edge of the door, four long, thin fingers appeared with chipped and dirty nails. The door didn’t move, and the fingers remained there, just moving up and down the door the way someone might strum them against a surface in frustration. This was slow though, like the owner of them was trying to scare him with little effort than this small action.
Then the door creaked open, causing his stomach to churn.
Bailey was aware Greyson wasn’t in the room with him; his strength seemed to vanish as he stood alone. Even the angel, with its radiating light, was nowhere to be seen as the door inched open.
Snapping his eyes shut, Bailey repeated words like a mantra. “Anybody but them, anybody but them.”
His heart raced, and he dug his nails into his jeans as he backed into the harsh wall behind him. Bailey waited for the self-inflicted pain to register and snap him awake. Feeling nothing, he repeated the words again, louder this time. All the while, he kept his eyes shut tight and willed himself away.
A laughter he longed to forget erupted around him. “Look, Jed. The dog’s come ‘ome for dinner.”
No, no, no. Not them, anybody but them, Bailey pleaded.
“Thought we’d seen the last o’ ‘im, Sheila,” a man Bailey refused to call father growled.
He didn’t need to open his eyes to know the pair were creeping toward him, his increasing fear seemed to warn him of their approach.
The terrified, nine-year-old boy he once was took over, and Bailey allowed his body to sink to the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest and rocked on the spot all the while screaming Greyson’s name over and over in his head.
“Get up, boy!” the demanding voice of his father barked as he dragged Bailey to his feet. Bailey’s eyes betrayed him, and he was faced with the man who’d used him as a punching bag for most of his early years.
The keepers of his nightmares.
His abuser hadn’t changed. The same shabby, black hair still hung over his unwashed face and Bailey could smell the whiskey on his breath. When he laughed, Bailey grimaced at the chipped teeth, yellow from years of chain smoking. Behind his father, he could see his mother was no different, and when she moved between them, Bailey was greeted by her own stench and unruly red hair, followed by a sharp smack across the face that caused his head to spin and his eyes to sting with tears.
No. I won’t let them see me cry, not again.
They made him feel weak, and he crumbled under her attack. His body met abruptly with the ground. Bailey’s face was the last part of him to meet the uncarpeted floor with a thud, his breath forced from his lungs. He gasped, struggling to get to his feet as he felt his father’s boot collide with his side.
“P-Please, G-Greyson,” he whispered, forcing the tears from falling.
“See how he cries for imaginary friends? Stupid fuck,” his father taunted, following his words with a much harder kick to Bailey’s side.
The pain demanded he give in to it, refused to allow him to ignore its sting. He curled his body into a protective ball. He looked through arms shielding his face for signs of the angel, for any traces of comforting light surrounding the blue depths of his lover’s eyes.
“Where are you?” he wailed.
Their laughter was a familiar and heart-wrenching theme of his childhood, and he knew the worst was yet to come. Struggling to the safety of the corner of the room, Bailey stared in fear at his parents and remembered how his life had played out in misery from birth, and then continued on a roller coaster of darkness until the bright day when he met Greyson.
Neither Greyson nor the angel were there now. He was alone again. Bailey even missed the harrowing darkness of Purgatory’s wasteland.
As his past haunting came to claim him once more, Bailey pushed his body as far as it would go into the corner. He was so overcome with fear it took him a while to hear the whisper in his ear, one so soft he had to struggle through the chorus of taunts and incoming attacks to make it out.
“Don’t let your past take hold. Remember the good.”
The angel spoke with Greyson’s comforting voice, telling him to look out from the grey he was back within. How could he though? All the times he’d thought his parents might kill him were overwhelming him all at once. He was he
ld captive by a past he’d longed to leave behind him.
What good ever came of this life? he thought, answering the voice in his head.
The angel didn’t take long to respond, and when Bailey heard his words he felt the room changing around him. “Focus on what is to come. Look past this. See Greyson again.”
“DID YOU get that, or do you need me to go over it again?”
The walls vibrated, small pulses at first before increasing in speed. His parents didn’t notice, nor did they see the small amounts of light appearing through cracks.
“Focus, Bailey. Look past them, hold onto the life you came to have.”
Smack.
Another blow collided with his stomach, yet Bailey tried his best to ignore it and look into the glowing beams. If he concentrated, strained hard enough, he could make out something growing within the increasing brightness.
Struggling to his feet, Bailey reached through the gap between his parents and watched the light betwixt the gaps in his fingers. He could feel them no longer, witnessed them fading into black as the brightness began to win out, claiming his body.
He had to shield his eyes from the consuming rays, and when he managed to look up again, he’d entered another memory from his past. Thankfully, one he wasn’t as reluctant to relive again.
Bailey no longer stood in his haunted house; even the light had depleted. Now, he found himself standing in a coffee shop.
This wasn’t just any Starbucks though, and it took him a few seconds to realize it was one he’d worked in as a student. What was more, he saw himself standing behind the counter, serving a man he knew very well.
“Greyson!” he exclaimed.
His legs refused to cooperate and move toward his man, and he remained in the corner of the room watching his younger self fumbling over his words as the pair eyed one another.
Struggling against the strange restraint, Bailey tried to make a charge for the long-missed embrace of Greyson, stopping only when he heard a voice to his side.
“Sorry, Bailey. You can do nothing more than watch, I’m afraid.” the angel told him, and Bailey pulled his eyes from the memory to meet with a blinding light beside him.
When the angel spoke again, it was with a chuckle. “You might not want to try and look at me. It will only cause you pain. I’m no longer disguised as Greyson. I can’t change my form and take you into your past.”
Although he didn’t wish to come off as rude, Bailey’s need to see Greyson won out and he turned his back on the angel when he heard his own voice speaking.
“Chai green tea, a bacon and cheese panini, and a cinnamon swirl. I got it,” his younger self repeated.
“Our first meeting.” Bailey gasped, covering his mouth with his hands. When he spoke again, it was in a quiet whisper intended for the angel alone. “Can they, I mean, I, wait... can they hear me?”
The angel appeared to be amused, and Bailey could feel his radiant warmth washing over him. “This is a memory. Nothing can be changed here. Nor can we be heard. Like a movie, if you will.”
Bailey relaxed. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the scene. He thought he’d remembered every aspect of this day, yet small details came back to him. Like the sweet smell of cinnamon in the air and the soft jazz music playing in the background. These little treasures were his again, as were the start of tears falling.
“Bailey, what’s wrong?” the angel asked.
Bailey shrugged his shoulders and wiped his eyes as Greyson paid for his order and moved to collect his drink, before smiling again at the young man who’d served him. Before Bailey even attempted to move forward, the angel spoke again.
“Just watch, Bailey. Remember what you once had with Greyson,” the angel said, but Bailey couldn’t keep the anger from bubbling inside.
“What’s the point?” he barked. “Once this is over I get to what... go back to a life without him? Aren’t you just shoving down my throat what I’ve lost?”
He could see his past self moving uneasily around the coffee shop, his eyes locked on the beautiful stranger he remembered thinking Greyson was. Whenever Greyson returned his gaze, Bailey would pretend to be busy cleaning the counter or filling one of the fridges with fresh stock. It might have been comical to watch if his heart wasn’t aching.
“I cannot force you to return to the life you seemed so willing to give up.” The angel’s voice seemed laced with pain, but Bailey was so overcome by his own emotions and the re-approaching darkness he didn’t question him. “But I can guide you and hope you find the strength to make it back.”
Bailey opened his mouth to argue with the light, but his attention was caught by something he’d missed before.
Without trying, his eyes honed in on the mobile phone Greyson had taken from his pocket the second he sat at one of the small tables. Even from this distance, Bailey found he could read the words on the small screen of the Nokia handset. Greyson typed a message to Jennifer, the friend he’d grown up with. A girl he’d always confided in like a sister. Initially Bailey had been intimidated by the woman and the protective nature she had toward Greyson, but over time he’d grown to love her also.
Bailey watched with fascination as Greyson’s beautiful fingers raced over the keypad to type out the words. He didn’t have time to fantasize about them touching him again, guiding him to lustful memories, because the words he read held him captive.
I think I’ve met the one.
Bailey didn’t know if he could blush, considering he wasn’t actually alive, but his cheeks heated the way they would when Greyson told him he was beautiful. Or that he loved him. Something about the message told Bailey it was about him. How could it not be when the pair had exchanged numbers before Greyson left the coffee shop?
“I don’t remember this part,” Bailey said, not expecting a reply.
The angel responded anyway. “It isn’t just your memories I can show you. I also have access to Greyson’s.”
Shaking his head, Bailey wiped away fresh tears from his eyes. “He couldn’t have loved me so fast. Stuff like that doesn’t happen.”
“Doesn’t it?” the angel quizzed, pointing toward the younger Bailey.
The mortal watched his nineteen-year-old self stealing glances at Greyson, his face flushing whenever their eyes connected.
There was no denying it. Even in the darkest moment in his childhood, he had always romanticized his future. When he dreamed of finding someone to love him. Bailey had spent so much of his life living in his head that when he met Greyson, he’d almost blurted out the fated three words seconds after their first kiss.
He said nothing to the angel, nodding his head as he watched the young men lusting over each other.
“Don’t you want to see him again?” the angel asked.
Bailey said nothing, just watched them, mesmerized.
He loved me. He allowed the words to settle in his heart, and then find their way to every inch of his body.
Something pulled at his other side, the one opposite to where the angel radiated, and he sensed the astral being shift, uneasy. Against Bailey’s will, he turned to look at a door opening. Yet it wasn’t a door at all, more a square of blackness painted over brickwork.
Feeling its pull, Bailey was hurled toward it. “What... what’s happening?” He gasped, wanting to remain within his reminiscing a little longer.
“Your wish to see him again has opened another door,” the angel said. “Three more, and then you can return to the life you lost and see Greyson again.”
Bailey wanted to fight, but the light around him faded and blackness reigned supreme. He wondered how long it would take for the madness to end.
Door Two
“I CAN’T follow you now, Bailey. The next steps you have to take alone.”
It was the last Bailey heard from the angel as he was pulled into the darkness. A grey smog circled him, swirling around his body. He called out into the black, but the angel ignored his pleas to come forth and guide him through.
It was only when the clouds settled and started to take shape, he began to hear unfamiliar voices. His ears seemed unable to concentrate on any single voice, hearing only a mix of garbled chants as the smog thickened and took on a solid form. It shifted to create a long corridor, with closed doors on either side.
The scene made Bailey gulp. “Shit.”
It was a place he could feel no comfort within, so similar to the place he’d hoped to find solace in when away from his parents’ harsh judgment and brutality. This corridor was so familiar to the one from his school days, a place he’d spent most of the time running from bullies. The moment he realized where he was, he found himself surrounded by shadowy, faceless children. Around twenty of them circled him and slowly moved his way, shouting words which used to cut into him as a child.
Tramp.
Ugly.
Freak.
Gay boy.
These words were chanted on a loop as the children crawled steadily toward the frightened Bailey. Looking around him, he tried to seek out signs of light that would alert him to the angel’s presence. Finding nothing but more tones of grey, he edged away from the children and called out in a panic. “Angel... or whatever I call you, what do I do now, how do I get out of here?”
Although he couldn’t see the angel, he could hear him in his head. “Run, find Greyson. Find the way out.”
Bailey hadn’t managed to budge even an inch until the angel spoke again. “If they catch you, they will drag you into the dark. Run, Bailey. Run now!”
As though he’d heard a gunshot go off, Bailey sprang up and started forward. He didn’t think about the direction he was going, only that he was increasing the distance between him and them. He dodged past their grabby hands, shooting through gaps and toward open space. As open as it could be in the narrow corridor. His only thought being “away”.
The children were slow to move, yet their hands were unnaturally quick when they sought to grab him. A few times one or the other would manage to snag his shirt, but Bailey finally managed to struggle free.