by Rick Wood
It would be far better than the whimper with which they were going out now.
She wondered what Julian might say, should he still be with them.
Julian never hid his emotions, nor did he ever try to appease someone with comforting words. He said things as he saw them, and everyone always knew how he felt.
Yet, Thea really wasn’t sure how he would feel about this.
Would he agree with Oscar and give up?
She shook her head. That didn’t sound like the Julian she knew. The Julian she knew would go down with his army.
But what could Thea do?
She was powerful, yes. A Sensitive was a person conceived by Heaven, which gave them abilities to fight demons and explore the paranormal. They had discovered that some Sensitives have more of Heaven in them — she was the one with the most. She could command demons in a way others couldn’t.
But that still wasn’t enough. The hope she had originally given Oscar, April and Julian had faded when they realised that, however strong Thea’s gift was, it was still not strong enough.
A teenage girl, probably fifteen, pulled a large suitcase through the doorway. A taxi waited for her, the driver doing nothing to help. Thea rushed over, took one side of the trunk, and helped the girl to lift it into the car boot.
“Thanks,” said the girl, timidly, her eyes avoiding Thea’s.
“You’re welcome,” Thea answered then, without meaning to, added, “I’m sorry.”
The girl looked at her, confused. “For what?”
It was a good question.
What exactly was Thea sorry for?
She looked around, at the building, at the empty windows and quiet rooms.
“This,” Thea answered. “You could have been so much more.”
“I’m not going to stop.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, I say it with full respect. I respect you, and I respect Oscar, and I respect April — but you’ve taught me lessons that can’t be untaught. I can’t go back now.”
Thea marvelled at this young girl and her shy resolve. She seemed shy, yet spoke with so much conviction that Thea could tell that she meant it.
“You can’t just teach us these abilities then expect us to go to sleep at night without worrying about what’s under our bed. I know too much now. I know you all think we’re doomed, but that means we have nothing to lose, right? I might be going home, but I’m sure there will still be plenty of demons for me to fight there.”
Thea took a moment to study this girl. Too thin, dyed hair, lots of bracelets. She reminded Thea of April, and she imagined the two of them would have been good friends.
Under different circumstances, that is.
“Good for you,” Thea responded.
She held out her hand, and the girl shook it.
“Good luck,” Thea added.
“Same to you,” the girl said as she stepped into the back of the taxi. Thea watched as the taxi took off and disappeared around the corner.
It gave her a sense of satisfaction that at least one student had learnt something. That they wouldn’t go back on all the lessons they’d been taught, just because they were being told to go home.
Thea turned to go, but was stopped by a familiar face.
“Henry,” she said. “Why haven’t you left yet?”
Henry was a remarkable young man. Only a few years younger than her, he had arrived for training with no confidence. He had since helped Thea tremendously whilst fighting off the possessed a few days ago, just as Oscar and April had attempted to confront The Devil in Hell.
For a moment, she wondered what would have happened if Oscar and April hadn’t tried something so foolish and doomed to failure.
“I’m not going,” said Henry.
“What do you mean, everyone is–”
“I know. But you still need help.”
“Henry, I–”
“I know you do. April is possessed. You’re going to need help.”
“Henry, look–”
“Even if it’s just fetching you coffee, or water to keep you going, whatever, I don’t care. You showed me something and I don’t plan to forget it.”
“We all need coffee and water, I guess.”.
Thea smiled. Henry had changed so much in the past few weeks. After battling by each other’s side, Thea considered him a friend. With Oscar so occupied with April, she only had the one. It would do no harm to have him there with her while Oscar was preoccupied with his misery.
“Let’s go home,” Thea said.
She looked back at the empty building one more time, then they left, never to return.
4
The air grew colder as Oscar climbed the stairs. The route to what used to be the bedroom he shared with the love of his life was now an ominous, dreaded walk.
He had quoted Psalm 23:4 at demons he was exorcising before: Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…
Yet, only now, did he understand what those words meant. Only now did he feel he was actually walking such a walk.
The door at the end of the corridor was ajar. A narrow crack let only a little light out, for there was little light in there to begin with. He could hear breathing; heavy, croaky, wicked breathing.
Oscar put his arms around himself, shivering. The hairs on his arms stood on end. He stepped slowly, not wanting to enter the room, but knowing he must.
Inside that room was April’s body, but he had no idea if April was still there. If only she hadn’t gone after Oscar. If only he hadn’t left in the first place. If only The Devil hadn’t tempted them to Hell so he could come back in the body of a conduit.
If only, if only, if only.
Two stupid words he was tired of repeating.
It meant nothing. But then again, everything was for nothing now, wasn’t it?
He placed his fingers against the door. Nudged it open. Allowed it to creak just wide enough that he could fit in.
He did not enter yet. He stood, watching the body on the bed, wrists bound to the headboard and ankles bound to the end of the bed.
He turned away. He’d seen this image every day, but it was getting worse. She was getting paler. Weaker. Scratches from the inside were coming through her skin.
Were those scratches from April? Was it her soul trying to get out? Or was it just another torment for Oscar to suffer?
Honestly, he didn’t know how much longer the restraints would last. A creature like The Devil, the king of Hell, an entity made of the purest evil, would not be held back for long. Oscar knew his opponent was just gathering his strength, that he was just getting used to this body and this world. Soon enough, The Devil would break out, and Oscar would walk upstairs to find April gone.
But what was he supposed to do? The rites of exorcism were doing nothing. He had no power over it. Not even Thea, with her stronger powers, had managed to make any progress.
“Are you going to stand there all day?” it asked. Its voice was deep. Cocky. Arrogant.
Oscar waited a moment, stepped inside, walked around the bed and watched, as the thing destroying his girlfriend watched him back.
“So what is it today?” it continued. “Which prayers are you going to try?”
He stood at the end of the bed. Arms crossed. Trying to look like he was in charge, even though they both knew he wasn’t.
“I need you to let her eat,” he said.
It raised her eyebrows.
“You need her body. You won’t be able to use it if she starves to death.”
“I don’t need it for long.”
“But you still need it for now. And a human body requires food. And water.”
It laughed.
“Laugh all you want, but–”
April’s crotch rose into the air and a large, elongated scream pushed out of her cracked lips. It was a piercing screech, so full of agony; a mixture of The Devil’s roar and April’s pain.
Oscar flinched away. He could hear April
’s voice among the shrieks.
He knew he shouldn’t let it affect him. It was integral to an exorcism that you do not let the demon get to you. It was crucial.
But everything he’d learned was void now. Everything he knew didn’t matter. He had no way of getting this thing out of April’s body. Nothing worked. He had lost, and he was just trying to keep the body alive for…
For what?
Some kind of absent hope he had buried deep down?
Some kind of belief that he may get her back some day?
No, of course not. It was purely for selfish reasons.
He was keeping her alive because he couldn’t bear to lose that last piece of April that remained — her body.
A good man would just let her die and banish The Devil in doing so.
But he was not a good man anymore. He was a defeated man, and he cared little for doing the right thing.
Derek and Julian were gone. They were the wise ones. Not him.
Finally, the scream ended, and the body fell back to the bed.
“What’s the matter?” it said, spreading her legs. “You miss her?”
Her crotch was exposed. It was bloody.
Once, he’d looked at her naked body and been taken by its beauty. Now he was stumped by its quick and severe degradation.
“As soon as I get free of these ropes…”
Oscar tried not to be bated.
“I am going to fuck your kitchen knife, fuck barbed wire, fuck every man who–”
“Stop it!”
Oscar turned away.
It laughed. Hard. At him.
He didn’t even bother to be brave. What was the point?
He looked back at it. His eyes hurt from lack of sleep.
It would have been better if Oscar had chosen the world instead of April. At least, if she had died then, he would have saved her from this fate.
He walked out of the room. He closed the door, but it did nothing. He could still hear the laughter and the screams throughout the house. It was constant. It felt like someone digging their fingers into his head and screaming as his brain expanded and…
He covered his ears and sat on the bottom step.
He could still hear it.
What he’d give to just be able to fall asleep.
5
Oscar allowed himself a walk. A small luxury. Such a seemingly insignificant thing — but something that made such a difference.
Thea wasn’t back yet. He had no idea where she was, or what she was wasting her time doing. He’d left a radio in the corner of April’s room, and he had a single headphone running up the inside of his hoodie and into his ear. That way, he could always know what was happening — but it also meant he could never escape the prison of that room. No matter how clear the skies, how delightful the day, how big the smile of a passing stranger, The Devil’s deep, croaky breathing was always there in his ear.
He passed a coffee shop. He considered going in, and even placed his hand on the door, but a memory stopped him.
All those years ago, when he was just a timid boy in his late teens, trying to confess his adoration for April, this was the coffee shop he would take her to. He’d psych himself up, decide on the words, but when he sat and looked at her nothing would come out. On reflection, she was always hopeful — she’d see the words edging to his lips, waiting for him to tell her how he felt, just to see him give up.
Shortly after, he had to save Derek from a prison occupied by a powerful entity. That was tough — yet it was preferable to trying to muster the confidence to admit his feelings.
He could see the table through the window where they had sat. Another couple sat there, the man’s hand resting on the woman’s. His thumb stroked her fingers, and they smiled. They didn’t say much. They probably didn’t need to. They were too besotted for idle chatter.
Oscar hated them.
He felt his lip lifting into a sneer. His head was shaking, and he was imagining striding in there and destroying the joyful moment.
“You’re going to die, you know!” he could say. “No matter how much you love each other, it doesn’t mean shit. You will be torn apart and tortured and you will not choose to save each other — you will only think of yourself.”
Oh, the pleasure it would bring him to tell them how short-lived their happiness would be, and how pointless it was. He hated them. Despised them. Loathed them.
He wanted to hurt them.
A low-pitched chuckle came through his headphones. It was as if The Devil knew what Oscar was thinking; as if it could sense the anger Oscar was feeling.
Oscar turned away from the coffee shop. He passed a lone polystyrene cup some prick had littered on the floor, now being pushed around by the wind. He swung his foot through it. It flew across the street, landing in the road, only to dance around the floor again.
Someone walking past looked at him. A child. Staring in that infuriating way children often do; as if their age gives them the liberty to be rude.
“What?” Oscar grunted.
The child turned their face away and walked on, taking hold of their mother’s hand.
Across the street, a busker sang about the conquering ability of love. A few people stood around him, gathered like disciples, listening to the lessons this singer was singing.
This man and his messages of love… what did he know? Had he ever sacrificed the world for the woman he loved?
No, he most likely hadn’t. So, whatever song he was ruining, it was insincere.
Oscar hated him. And he hated those gathered around him, encouraging him. The man tapping his foot, the woman nodding her head, the couple putting their arms around each other like the lyrics actually meant something to them — they could all fuck off.
They knew nothing of the world. They knew nothing of what was rising up, and they knew nothing of the genuine sacrifices that come with love.
He hated them. Each and every one of them.
He hated them so, so much.
Yet, at the same time, he envied their ignorance. He wished he could be so unaware, so oblivious to what was happening.
He wished he could tap his foot, nod his head, or tuck his arm around April. He wished he could listen to this man’s words and pretend they meant something. He wished…
Wishing did nothing.
No one cared what he wished for.
No one ever had.
The laughter in his ear died down, and the croaky breathing resumed.
He’d left the house for too long. He shouldn’t have left at all. It was time he returned.
He glanced back at the busker, at the coffee shop, and at the couple inside.
Instead of a sneer, his face twisted into tears — but he kept them inside.
He’d rather learn to feel nothing than to feel all this.
He walked back home, hands in his pockets, head down, avoiding eye contact with everyone he passed.
6
Thea felt the same ominous feeling she felt every time she approached the house she now called home. When she’d first moved in, April was eager to teach her, Oscar was driven, and Julian was bringing through fresh recruits.
Now the house, seemingly cast in a permanent shadow, did not give her the sense of enthusiasm it previously had. Now, all it gave her was despondency.
She did not want to have to face Oscar in his current state, and she definitely did not want to face April in hers.
Nevertheless, with Henry at her side, she unlocked the door and gave it a gentle push.
No lights were on. Oscar sat on the bottom step, his head leant against the wall, his eyes closed, used to the raucous noise coming from above.
A clatter shook the ceiling.
Oscar’s eyes opened, and his body remained still. Those eyes glanced at Thea, then to Henry.
“What’s he doing here?” he asked.
“Henry has come to help.”
“Help what?”
“The fight.”
“There is
no fight.”
“Not for you, but–”
“Give it up, Thea. You’re young. I know, I was once. The fight is over.”
He marched into the kitchen.
“Maybe I should go,” Henry suggested quietly.
“You are not going,” she said. “Just — wait in there while I talk to him.”
She gestured to the living room. Henry obediently shuffled in, and Thea closed the door behind him. She hesitated, then walked into the kitchen to find Oscar leaning at the sink, drinking straight from the tap.
“Don’t you use a glass anymore?” she asked.
“What are you now, my mum?” Oscar said. He ran the water over his hands, then over his face. He straightened his back, closing his eyes and stretching his neck.
“I really think–”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
Thea looked bemused. “What question?”
“What is he doing here?”
Oscar gestured at the door that led to the living room.
Thea stood defiantly.
“I asked him to come,” she said.
“Why? What’s the point? What is he going to do?”
“If the world’s going to end, I’d like a friend here.”
Oscar snorted. “He’s a friend now?”
“We fought side by side. Often, that makes people close. I thought you might know about that.”
Oscar dropped his head. Closed his eyes.
Thea was certain Oscar knew what a dick he was being, but she felt sorry for him. He’d caused this, yes — but he’d also put every bit of blood and sweat in his body into fighting it. He’d felt hope that things would get better many times, only to have that hope pulled away from him over and over. He’d been through so much to get to this point, he had risked everything, and all he had to show for it was the abhorrent state the love of his life was in.
“I’m sorry, Oscar,” Thea said.
“Sorry for what?”
“I’m just… sorry. I know this is hard for you.”
Oscar shook his head. He muttered something that she couldn’t hear.
“Let me ask you something.” She folded her arms and looked inquisitively at him, ignoring the sceptical look on his face. “What if you exorcised April?”