Page 78 of Possession

“Get some rest,” says Henry with the same gentleness. “It’s been a long day.”

Again, I nod, the move jerky and robotic. All of this has happened in a day—how is that possible? Thinking of where I was hours ago compared to now is astounding and borderline painful. The day began with Aris, with a life in a house in the woods, and now…

Henry moves to leave but pauses in the doorway. “You’re going to like it here, Mary.”

Right.

We share a look; his gaze is purposeful. “I promise,” he says more firmly.

Before I respond, he shuts the door behind him with a quiet click.

I stay still for a few seconds, somehow unnerved by what he said, though I have no idea why. Maybe the look in his eye, the determination…? Abruptly shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I get to work. I’m tired, but I won’t be able to sleep; I’ll just lay there and let my mind run. And I don’t want to think about my mom right now.

I busy myself with menial tasks: setting up my clock, removing packaging, hanging clothes, organizing and moving. But inevitably, I run out of things to do and collapse on my bed with a dissatisfied huff.

The prospect of waking up tomorrow is overwhelming. I know I’ll be hungry, but I won’t know where to get food. I don’t want to venture out on my own—should I wait for Henry to get me, then, or is that presumptuous? Who’s to say that he’ll even be there in the morning?

What is my role here, exactly? What am I supposed to do?

I wait for an answer or joke, but nothing comes, head buzzing from the silence in my head. There’s a muted static, like an old school television.

Aris would know what to do; he always knew what to do. I want to talk to him and tell him about my mother’s book. I want to ask what he thinks about it. I wonder where he is, what he’s doing, if he’s thinking of me. But that’s stupid, why would he be thinking of me?

Why am I thinking of him?

I turn on my side, then roll over, twisting my feet into the sheets. My body feels too strange to sleep. Different. It’s like a limb is missing.

I am, of course, grateful. I can’t deny that a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. The fear I lived with, the responsibility, the danger, it’s been taken away. I have my privacy back. My security. Maybe I can even have a future.

But… I don’t know.

If I hadn’t started disappearing, if the amulet wasn’t messed up and things had stayed as they were in the cell… I don’t know. If we’d gotten away from cults and wizards and were able to just wander and live in peace… If we’d managed that and someone asked me if I hated having him in my head, I honestly would’ve said that I didn’t mind it anymore.

Chapter seventeen

When I wake, I lay still to stare at the ceiling, touching my necklace. The sharp edges press crescents into my fingers. Aris? I think, reaching out and remembering a second too late that he’s gone. For a few depressed moments, I feel something like a chrysalis, like the husk left behind.

There’s the thought that Aris has won, in the only way he could ever truly win; he took me, became me, erased me. But of course, that’s impossible: I’m still here. So why do I feel like I’m less now?

My mind goes to the painting at the Following of the Forewarned, the woman offering her arm to darkness in the shape of a man: Aris, the Devourer. When he left, did he take a bite out of me?

I give myself a minute to feel sad and sorry before I get out of bed and let my body drive me forward. After a quick shower, where I wash away the remnants of chalk from the circle, I put on my new clothes and take stock of myself.

My month’s absence has done its work; my fingernails and hair are longer, and the wound in my side is fully healed. The scar tissue is an iridescent like the inside of a shell, catching in the light as I observe it. My hospital bracelet, which I’d slowly gotten attached to, is missing without explanation, and I figure I’m going to have to consider that a loss.

The process of going outside feels like an incredible feat, the idea of walking around alone outrageous in the bravery required, but what else am I supposed to do? I glance at the clock. Eight in the morning. Am I meant to sit in here all day? I’m hungry, and what if it takes hours for Henry to come?

Surely, he’s busy. He’s been gone and has things to straighten out. Meetings, stuff to explain.

But he has to know how anxious I am, and he just left me. There’s a good reason, surely, but still…

While combing my wet hair, I deliberate what to do and ultimately decide to wait an hour. If Henry shows up in time, I’ll go with him. If not, I’ll take charge.

While waiting, I try to stop my head from reeling. It’s hard to believe this is really happening, that this is my life now. I consider the possibility of this being as trick, that Aris has taken control of my mind and locked me away somewhere unreal.

I touch the cotton sheets, stroking them like one might a pet. I can’t imagine that this world is fake. What would be the point of deceiving me so utterly? There is a brief, irrational thought that I should test my theory in some way, but I’m not sure how. What could break a fake world?

Finally, I glance at the clock and see that my self-imposed deadline has passed. I still hesitate. I shouldn’t live my life in fear, but I’m comfortable in this room. I’m safe here. Besides, I’m not sure of my place. I don’t think I’m a prisoner, but do I really have free rein?

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