by Holly Dae
Just as soon as the girl fell into the fire, the rain began to douse and put out the flames. Still, the flames didn’t do so instantly, and everyone screamed in horror as what was left of the flames briefly consumed her before also being doused by the rain. Malakha leaned over the edge of the roof and saw that the girl was lying on the ground, not moving with one of her legs bent at an odd angle.
“Someone take her to the infirmary,” a teacher shouted.
“No!” another yelled. “Don’t move her. Wait for the ambulance.”
“We have to get her out of the rain!”
This was all background noise to Malakha though as she knelt down and wrapped her arms around herself. She was more concerned about trying to push the laughter out her head.
******
The laughter stopped, but only after the firefighters had gotten her off the roof and the medics disinfected and wrapped the cuts on her arms from where the girl had scratched her earlier. Now she was in the infirmary again, for the second time within three or four days. The doctor claimed it was just to observe her, to make sure she wasn’t suffering anymore trauma, but Malakha had a feeling it had something to do with the fact that she had seemingly been talking to herself and the rain just happened to fall after she had shouted to the skies for some bastard to stop. No doubt they probably thought she was a witch or something and in league with Satan.
Her suspicions were confirmed when Father Lucas came into the room to speak to her alone.
“Can I leave now?” Malakha asked, though she already knew the answer and she guessed Father Lucas knew she already knew the answer too, because he ignored the question as he stood at the side of her bed and then sat at the foot of it. Again, Malakha was reminded of a bad impression of Albus Dumbledore.
“Before you ask,” Malakha said deciding she would be as truthful as possible, “I’m not crazy.”
“I know you aren’t Malakha.”
Malakha opened her mouth to object, until she realized what the man had said.
“I’m not?” Malakha asked.
“And I know none of this is your fault.”
“You do?” Malakha asked though she was cautious. Something in his tone bothered her.
“I know your actions aren’t the result of your own will.”
Malakha’s jaw dropped at the implication and then she closed her mouth tightly as if it would contain her built up frustration and fury. He had to be kidding. There was no way in the world Father Lucas was implying what she thought he was implying.
“You think I’m possessed?” she asked.
“Malakha.”
“Are you nuts? You think I’m the reason the students are going crazy and causing bonfires and cutting themselves and having fits? You think I have the power to do this?”
“Not you.”
“Then what! The fucking demon you think is possessing me?” Malakha asked, all thoughts or inclinations to be respectful leaving her. “This is crazy.”
“Malakha, it’s no coincidence that every time something happened, you were somehow involved.”
“Eliza attacked me!”
“So you say.”
“I was going to my room for pain medicine when I came across that guy and he had a seizure! Sabrina was there too!” The first part was a lie, but the point was Malakha hadn’t been looking for him.
“So you say again.”
“I have about a million cuts on both my arms from where I tried to save a student before she plunged to her death! If I had been a second later or earlier, it wouldn’t have started raining and she would have burned to death! It was a coincidence!”
“Three coincidences?” Father Lucas asked and on that point, Malakha agreed, but she couldn’t tell Father Lucas the real reason she had known something was happening.
“It happens!”
“You were talking to someone.”
Malakha sighed and rolled her eyes. “No I wasn’t. I was talking to myself. I’m allowed to do that sometimes right?”
“We have several witnesses Malakha and all of them said it sounded like you were talking to someone, trying to plead and bargain with them to stop.”
It was hardly pleading and bargaining. More like demanding it and hoping someone across the divide thought she had some authority.
“Yeah,” Malakha said crossing her arms. “Kind of the same way you all beg and plead and bargain to God when you pray.”
Father Lucas looked stumped on that one, but instead of trying to find an answer that would placate her, he said, “Malakha, who were you talking to?”
Malakha glared at him, keeping her arms crossed while staying stubbornly silent. It may have been childish, but there was no way she was telling him that she could hear the demons across the divide between Hell and Earth when they were causing trouble. That was practically asking for them to strap her down to a chair to be exorcised. She would prefer they thought she was crazy. At least then a doctor would just prescribe her some medicine, and she’d pretend it was helping or something.
“Fine then. We’ll just have to do something that I didn’t want to.”
Malakha looked at the headmaster with narrowed eyes. “What’s that?”
“I think you already know,” he said with a stern glare not at her, but almost through her, like he was trying to see the demon within her.
Malakha honestly had no clue at first and then she realized that by talking across the divide earlier, she had not just asked to be strapped down to a chair and exorcised, but she had practically begged and pleaded for it since it had happened in front of such a large audience.
“An exorcism,” Malakha hissed.
The mocking laughter started again.
Chapter Eleven
Malakha’s Exorcism
“They’re taking you where?”
“To have an exorcism.”
Malak paused on the other end for a long time, as though he was trying to figure out how to react. If the situation weren’t so dire, Malakha guessed he probably would have laughed. As it was, he was probably very aware of the gravity of the situation.
“Where are you?”
“Still in the infirmary. They won’t let me out.”
“Are they even allowed to do that? Without your parents’ permission?”
“I don’t know,” Malakha replied. “If I’m being honest though, I have a feeling that whatever demon is causing this has something to do with this whole thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well I don’t think there’s any rule that says a demon can only ‘possess’ one person at a time,” Malakha replied.
“You think he’s making them want to exorcise you?”
Malakha shook her head, even though Malak couldn’t see her and said, “No. A demon can only make a suggestion, like a whisper in the back of your head or something to make it seem like it came out the person’s own head. They still have the choice to do it or not. But I certainly haven’t made anyone less inclined to think I’m possessed or something anyway.”
“That’s for sure. So what do you need me and Sabrina to do?”
“A lot. But you’ll have some time. I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this exorcism thing. You know that cloak? The one that came back with me from Hell yesterday?” Malakha asked. “Can your sister sew?”
“Limitedly maybe.”
“Then tell her to use YouTube or something. I need her to turn it into something I can wear… like a jumper or something. It shouldn’t be that hard… Everything has to be made from the fabric of that cloak though… And tell her to save a strip of it so I can tie up my hair or something.”
“Okay… But Malakha, what do you need it for.”
“To go back to Hell,” Malakha said simply. “But we’ll talk about that later. Right now I need you to go back to that site or wherever you went and read anything and everything that might be able to clue me in to what’s doing this so I can find it.”
“You’re going to fight
a demon?”
“I know, right?” Malakha said dryly. “But if I don’t more freak accidents like last night are going to happen and more people are going to think I’m a nutcase.”
“Since when do you even care?”
“Since it got someone to decide to exorcise me is when! Besides, I may be a little insensitive…”
“A lot insensitive.”
“But I’m not cold.”
“Sure…”
“Whatever,” Malakha said. Then she looked up, hearing the approach of footsteps. “Listen. I have to go. I’ll be there soon.”
Malakha hung up the phone and then dropped it in her bra. Let them try to take it from her when it was it was in there.
Father Thomas again came to escort her, along with another woman Malakha didn’t know, but was sure wasn’t a nun. She had a feeling the woman was security or something. What did they think she was going to do? Give them a tough fight to make them believe even more that she was possessed or something? With that thought in mind, she rolled her eyes at the woman as she jumped off the bed. Malakha walked a little ahead of both, so that it appeared she was leading them down to dungeon like room where the exorcism was to be held instead.
Halfway there, the annoyance began to creep up on her, and she began to mutter, “Stupid! So fucking stupid,” under her breath, while at the same time trying to figure out if there was a way out of this before they sat her down.
She found none by the time they arrived at the large room with concrete walls and no windows. It was set up the same as last time. The priest was there, holding his bible in one hand and cross in the other and next to him was John, who didn’t look at all fazed by the fact that she was the subject this time. But that might not be true. Monks, nuns, and priests all had a way of hiding their emotions. She should know. She had pissed off enough before.
Malakha sat down in the chair before anyone could tell her to, crossing her arms to show her defiance. The priest and Father Thomas began to talk in the corner. Malakha, already lacking in patience to begin with, spoke up when they were about five seconds into their conversation.
“Can we get this over with already?”
They ignored her, and Malakha settled for glowering at them until they were done. Ten minutes into the exorcism, Malakha decided she should have let them keep talking longer. At first, she tried to occupy her time by listening to the man’s Latin to figure out what exactly he was saying. But even now, sitting in front of the priest and looking right into his face, his Latin was as incoherent a mess as it had been when she was witnessing the exorcism. So when the priest began asking her questions in the same incoherent mumble, Malakha guessed it wasn’t her he was talking to, but the demon within supposed to possess her. In the end, she decided to do what she did when she went to her weekly “confessions.” She began to tune out the man’s mumbling, thinking again of the tune that she still couldn’t figure out the name of, but was sure had been played in some movie within the last five years or so.
She closed her eyes, letting the melody play in her head, hoping the movie scene would come to her and she’d see a familiar actor or, better yet, recognize the movie the scene came from so that she could Google it later. The melody came to her again, but this time it played as a violin solo and a girl was playing it. She knew that scene. It was from—
Malakha opened her eyes when she felt the water on her face. It was holy water actually, but nothing about it felt holy, just wet.
She was not amused.
So she glared at the priest, unconcerned that they probably now thought that she was completely possessed by the demon. They probably thought the holy water had caused the demon inside her to begin to show its true colors if the fact that they kept throwing drops of “holy” water in her direction was any indication. The action only served to further annoy her.
That was it. Malakha couldn’t take it anymore.
“Would you stop throwing that on me? For goodness sake, I’m not possessed! And no amount of throwing that damn water at my face is going to change that or make me say otherwise!” Malakha snapped.
Someone across the divide must have found Malakha’s predicament funny, because she heard the laughter again. It was quiet, not nearly as loud as it had been other times, but persistent and only served to put Malakha in a worse mood.
“Perhaps we should take a break,” Father Thomas said suddenly.
“A break,” Malakha said rolling her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and crossing her legs at the knee, not caring about the nagging voice of her mother in the back of her head telling her how un-ladylike the action was. “When are you all going to figure out that I’m not possessed?”
They ignored her and the priest and Father Thomas left the room. They stopped to let the guard know that Malakha was still in the room before she saw them make their way down the hall. Malakha huffed before turning back to look straight ahead of her and glare at the wall, the laughter that she continued to hear from across the divide becoming background noise. She had to get out of here. She had to find a way to convince them that she wasn’t possessed. She had to…
Malakha turned her head a little to the left. She had forgotten John was in the room until she felt his gaze on her. When she turned her gaze on him, he started to look at the ground. Malakha uncrossed her arms and legs and sat up. Maybe he would help her.
“John! You’ve got to help me.”
“I can’t help you,” John said. “Only my mentor can.”
Malakha rolled her eyes. “I don’t need that kind of help. I don’t need to be exorcised. I’m not possessed or crazy, but there is something going on, and I’m the only one that can do something about it.”
John looked at her, in the patient, patronizing way she’d seen psychiatrists look at their patients. It was a look that said they didn’t exactly believe what their patient was saying, but didn’t show that they thought their patient might be wrong. Malakha didn’t like it either way.
“How come?” John asked.
He definitely sounded like a psychiatrist…
“Because I can cross over the divide that separates our world from Hell and destroy the demon or whatever that’s causing some of the students to act like they did last night!”
John’s head reared back at Malakha’s explanation. He started to take a step towards her before looking at the door and taking a step back.
“What?”
Malakha sighed. “I know it sounds crazy, and I know you probably think that the demon inside me is talking and trying to trick you into letting it go, but I’m not possessed. I promise!”
“Malakha…”
“John! I’m not lying. If I wanted to lie to you, if I were the demon talking and wanted to lie to you, I’d tell you something a lot more believable than the fact that I could travel across a divide that no one can see and go to Hell. You have to believe me.”
“Why?” John asked.
“Because they won’t,” Malakha said nodding her head toward the door to indicate the priest and Father Thomas.
John looked at her, stared at her really. His stare was penetrating, like he could see right through her and into the invisible realm of her mind or something. For a moment, Malakha honestly though he could possibly see into her mind. She could apparently cross over into Hell at will, so it wouldn’t be that strange.
Then John sighed. “What exactly do you need me to do?”
“First, you can get me out of here somehow.”
“I can’t do that.”
“I’m not asking you to sneak me out or anything. Just convince the priest that I’m not possessed.”
“I can’t. It’s not going to work. I already tried.”
Malakha sat back in her chair in surprise. “You… you did?”
John nodded. “I told him that I had talked to you and that if you were really possessed or something, you’d be doing your best to blend in or something, not stand out by being vocal about you disbelief.”
&
nbsp; “I’m not that vocal.”
“Your reputation precedes you,” John said.
“So I’ve heard.”
“Either way, you’re not possessed. Just a little… rebellious might be the word.”
Malakha scowled. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know,” John said, glancing at the door. He looked at Malakha once more before going back to his place, appearing as calm and indifferent as he had when she first saw him earlier.
The door opened and the priest and Father Thomas came back into the room. Malakha groaned, slouched, and threw her head back. They again ignored her and picked up right where they left off. Whatever demon was watching her across the divide laughed again, and Malakha took some comfort in the fact that he didn’t find her annoyance nearly as entertaining as the hysterics of the girl she had witnessed being exorcised. She bet after that show (and Malakha shouting out to a voice coming from another world) they let that girl go, convinced the demon inside her was gone…
Malakha lifted her head up and looked at the priest, before casting a quick glance at Father Thomas and John. Sabrina always said she was a good actor. She waited for the right moment, even though she couldn’t be sure when that was because the priest was still muttering in incoherently. Then when he seemed to reach a particular climax in his prayers, Malakha began her act.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
Father Thomas, who appeared to have started daydreaming, stared at her with wide eyes, John, who had been staring at the floor, looked up at her in confusion, and even the priest stopped his muttering.
“I didn’t mean it. It wasn’t me. I promise. Just… just please.”
The priest stared at her for, and for a moment, Malakha thought he may not be falling for it. Then he began his muttering again, this time louder, firmer, more convicted. Malakha had to keep herself from grinning as she willed tears to her eyes and continued to mutter pleas and apologies, just like that girl from last time. Malakha wasn’t sure what happened after she left that exorcism, but the fact of the matter was that where ever the girl was, she wasn’t in the exorcism chair anymore. She kept that up for a while, even managing to get tears to stream down her face. Then, as the priest got louder and more convicted, she got louder and less desperate, turning the apologetic pleas into angry growls, curses, and even threats to kill the priest in front of her. Then, for good measure, Malakha began to insult not just the priest and Father Thomas, but Father Lucas and all the monks and nuns who got on her nerve, by calling them names that she usually restrained herself from calling them aloud. It wasn’t like they thought she was the one actually doing it anyway, so she may as well have as much fun with the performance as she could.