*****
My assumption had been that the brain fogging medication would impede my ability to study, but it turned out to be a fantastic aid. As my focus centred in on words, statistics and lists, the world around me faded, creating an environment where only me and a stack of obnoxious books existed. But for the first time I felt the books were coming up second best.
Pages turned, information was absorbed, and all the while white walls and demonic horses seemed to exist only in some distant parallel universe.
At midday I took a break for a meal in front of the television. Any channel that mentioned Judy Carlson was systematically avoided. Benny was nowhere to be seen. The meal was followed by a dessert of two more painkillers, my hand again beginning to throb, after which I went back to the books without hesitation.
By this time the studying had even become enjoyable, and as I again settled into the serene world, more real learning was achieved then in my other study sessions combined. When again the pills began to wear off it was 7PM, but I braved on until 9PM. By that time, body aching and eyes burning, I felt it safe to declare myself an inspired scholar and sat back for an almighty stretch.
The TV had come on in the living room at some point. Benny was awake and probably cursing the D.O.M for destroying his sleeping patterns. I stood and decided to join him.
It was as I opened the door that the buzzing in my head became noticeable, but by then I was already two footsteps into the living room. On this occasion my medication lagged brain would not be winning any medals for reaction time.
Benny’s face was once again shimmering with pale television light, eyes staring with trans-like emptiness and mouth ajar. Behind the couch was the Brent-demon, also engrossed in the television. Both were motionless.
I gaped. The buzzing cranked up and my heart turned to stone. The scene was so grotesquely unnatural that for a second I was certain it could not be real; that I must be passed out, still at my desk with head resting on arms. I watched, waiting for something to happen.
‘Benny will look up and notice,’ I told myself, ‘Spot the surreal horror standing behind him and scream.’
But he didn’t. His eyes remained locked firmly on the television. Snippets of hollow dialogue and canned laughter drifted out as an evening sitcom ran its course.
“Benny,” I whispered, eyes flicking between one figure and the other. Neither heard. “Benny.”
His head turned slowly in my direction, mouth still ajar.
“It’s behind you,” I said, “The demon is behind you.”
I expected his face to transform into a gawk of surprise. But instead, eyes hardening and lips parting into a snarl, he was on his feet and marching towards me.
“Why didn’t you stop them?” he growled.
“What….?”
But I knew what he meant. The buzzing intensified.
Sunglasses pushed Brent forward till his thighs collided with the table...
“Why didn’t you stop them, Jet?!”
My jaw cranked. No words emerged. Behind him the Brent-demon began to jabber, the sound of a deranged turkey in a madman’s nightmare. I was swept off my feet and felt my back slam into windows. The city waited eagerly beyond.
“Why didn’t you stop them?!” he roared, hands grasping my shirt. His face loomed inches from my own. “You could have taken every man in that room apart with your bare hands! Why didn’t you stop them, you son of a bitch!?”
The demon continued to jabber. The windows let out an ominous crack.
“Benny,” I whispered, “The demon. It’s behind you. It’s in your head. You understand me? The demon is in your head…”
“Why, Jet!? Why?! You let him die! You let my brother die!”
The window cracked again.
“Oh God, the window is breaking, Benny. Look behind you. Okay? Just look behind you and snap out of it...”
His eyes bore into mine; blazing with fire I had never seen before. But a flicker of recognition sparked. The demon’s jabbering ceased.
“Look behind you,” I insisted. The window giving a mighty crunch and bowing outwards. “Look. Please.”
Confusion contorted his face. But he whipped around and his eyes settled on the creature. It gaped at him idiotically.
“Oh, no,” he breathed.
His expression morphed into horror. Both hands loosened.
“Oh, Jet. Christ. I’m so sorry.”
“Its okay, Benny. Take it easy.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Tears crept from the corners of his eyes and he crumpled to the ground. I crouched and put a tentative hand on his shoulder. His body heaved as tears turned into sobs. The demon watched on.
“Oh God my brother,” he croaked, “My brother is dead. My brother is dead…”
I wanted to tell him I was sorry, that I regretted my inability to take action on that day. That I regretted it more than any other failure in my life and, if I could turn back time, I would tear Sunglasses and Pout apart with my bare hands. Just like he knew I could have. I wanted to say these things, but didn’t. Somehow none of it seemed appropriate, none of it seemed like it could comfort a man who had witnessed his brother’s death. When finally I did manage words, they sounded as hollow as the voices still drifting from the television.
“You need to get help,” I said, “This demon is tearing you apart, Benny.”
“I know,” he babbled through sobs, “I know, I can’t control it, I can’t keep it out…”
I stayed with him till the weeping subsided.
Afterwards he rose unsteadily to his feet and for an awkward moment stood lingering, head hanging and eyes staring at the ground. I though he intended on hugging me. But instead turned and headed for his room. The demon lingered for a few moments more. Then moved to follow him.
Balance - Book 2 Page 33