Page 23 of Possession

Seeing him in the studio, watching him war with himself, he was gone to them, to the voices. They plagued him and I let him go… nine years ago, after we’d split up, after he’d chosen to leave. He’d been so angry. But he’d come back for me, a week after the break up, and I refused to see him. I’d thought I was doing him a favor, doing myself a favor. We’d been cursed, damned, but after seeing myself on his canvas the other night, seeing my eyes, it was clear he never let me go. So I’d chosen to torture myself with memories. I’d succumbed to each one and fell into dreams of him and us. The summer he’d finally let me meet his family. His house was perfect, just like him, but his father had come home so drunk he’d puked on the porch and Declan had to ask his brother, Liam, to drive us to my house. We’d had dinner there instead, and it had taken him almost another month to finally let me back in.

I rolled to my side, the stench of body odor flared my nostrils. My eyes felt puffy and my hair was greasy and smelled like salt. This last dream hit me hard. It hit me like a train because it was the first time he’d given me his full trust and it was then that I realized I’d fallen in love with him. Teenagers don’t really fall in love, my mother had said. My parents had played along with our relationship because they never thought it would flourish. But it had. And where we thought we were a blooming flower, my parents had thought we were a caustic weed. My parents joined the church my senior year and things only got worse from there.

You were young, you did what you could.

I exhaled a noisy breath. A sour film coated my teeth and my lips felt like sandpaper. My phone vibrated and the screen lit up casting a green glow to the room. I picked it up and stared at the face on the screen. I let it go to voicemail. Missed call. It didn’t take long for her to call back. The screen lit up again and I swallowed past the empty feeling in my belly.

“Hello.” My voice was stretched thin. I hadn’t spoken in a day… maybe longer.

“Clark said he can’t get a hold of you. Are you alright?” My mother’s voice was full of fake concern.

“I’m fine. And, I told you I don’t want to speak to him. He wants a divorce and so do I. He wants to be withher,Mom.” I closed my eyes and leaned back into my pillow.

“I’m not sure about that, Paige. We’ve spoken to his parents, we all think—”

“I’m an adult, stop treating me like a child.”

“Then stop acting like one!” She raised her voice and clicked her tongue. Her words held malice as she continued. “We did everything to assure your happiness, it’s the least you could do, for your father, for me, he has to work with these people, Paige. We have a reputation to uphold. If you go through with this divorce… you’ll be excommunicated. This is your deliverance. After what you did… well.”

I could picture her in our white kitchen picking her manicured nails. Pastel pink, always pastel pink. Her blonde hair straight and her crème colored dress pressed. I grit my teeth.

“I know what I did, you don’t need to remind me, and if getting excommunicated means I don’t have to go to that church anymore…. if it means…” I sat up, my chest heavy and my voice building steam. “If it means I’m free of the false doctrine, the control of a man who would rather screw the nursery leader than be a good husband, then that is exactly what I want.” I was out of breath, screaming, sobbing. I didn’t speak like this. I didn’t ever deny my parents’ rule. But I was finished allowing people to dictate who I was supposed to be. “I’m done, Mom. I’m done paying for a sin I’ll never be forgiven for.”

Silence.

“Mom?” I choked out the word.

“If this is your choice,” she spoke slowly with condemnation. “Then you have chosen the way of Hell, and may the fires burn away all your selfish needs. God forgive me, but there is no place in this home for you anymore, girl. You disrespected this house, your husband, and your father the day you left Clark, the church. And trust me… your father feels the same as I do.”

He was probably sitting next to her, listening, throwing away his only child like the piece of garbage that she was.

I hung up the phone and stood from the bed. I had nothing left to say. My legs were lead stumps and as I stretched, the pain pulled like rubber bands along each limb of my body. I’d been avoiding that phone call for too long. I’d been excommunicated from a church that called me a murderer, from a husband who never loved me, and from a family that would see me burn before they ever allowed me to be happy again, to feel something other than mourning for the choice they’d never absolve me of.

I was truly alone. Utterly lost. And, even though I should fall back into the soiled sheets, never leave the filth of this room, something pulled me to the shower.

“I just draw what I see.”

Sad eyes. My eyes.

“You see the world, Declan.”

He was the only one who saw me… the only one…

I caught my breath and turned the water to scalding. The filth would wash away and I would be clean again.

The rain had subsided by the time I got to The Gallery. My stomach was empty, but after talking to my mother, after severing all ties to my family, I didn’t have much of an appetite. I’d been at work for just about an hour and every time the bell on the door would ring my heart would fly into my throat. I didn’t dare check the studio to see if his painting was still there. I seriously doubted he stuck around after seeing me. My whole body shivered. It was most likely the lack of sugar in my system or just straight-up anxiety. All I wanted was to see Declan again, but at the same time, I dreaded it. I had nothing left of me anymore. Nothing to lose. The layers had been shed and husked away into the trash.

“You look like shit. You’ve lost some weight?” Chandler’s brown eyes assessed me with alarm. He’d been too busy stocking the shelves when I arrived to get a really good look at me.

The teal sweater I had on felt too big. It was supposed to hang off my shoulder, but it fell farther than it had before. My collarbones jutted out and my face felt hollow. I was starving, but not for food. I was hungry for something, someone, a love I didn’t deserve… not anymore.

“I had a stomach bug. Sorry if I left you hanging the other day.” I toyed with the thread on my sleeve and I kept my eyes on the counter.

“It happens. I was fine. But, listen, I think you should maybe go home? This little four-hour shift, it’s nothing, I got it. Go rest.”

If I had to go back to Lana’s house and rot in the grime I’d created over the past few days I’d never survive. As hard as it was pretending to be a real human for a few hours, I didn’t want to be alone.

“I’m feeling better.” I gave him a weak smile.

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