Page 73 of Possession

“He’s okay? He’s getting better?” The tremor in my voice blurred the words.

Liam exhaled again. “Here’s the thing. When we got hold of his journal... it was all crazy shit. Pages of random words, sketches of eyes … your name. The phrase…This is forever, was written over and over. He refused meals, and when I was there it was like he didn’t know me. He couldn’t remember his own fucking name, but... he knew you.”

My eyes brimmed, my heart burst from its cage and my lips trembled.

“He gets discharged in four days. I want you to be there for him.”

“Yes. Of course.” I had to see him.

“No, I need you to fucking listen to me. Ineedyou to be there. No more running, no more bullshit. Nine years, Paige, he was a goddamn zombie and then you came back… and he got… better. Seeing Dex like that, in that hell hole, watching him become possessed by the shit in his head… it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever seen. You were in there with him… in the chaos… you kept his spirit, and you better fucking be there for him when he gets out.”

I sucked in a jagged breath. I’d been with him. He’d lost himself, but I was the tether. We were bound, we were one. “Declan is my life, he always has been, and there is nothing that will keep me from him ever again.”

“You destroyed him last time, and it’s hard—”

“I’m here. I’m here, Liam.” I sat up straighter in the front seat. “He’s my forever.”

“I’ll see you Tuesday.”

The phone went silent and I let myself break apart. I let myself think of Declan, in a small hospital room, lost, and confused, his eyes empty, scribbling away in a journal. Busy trying to piece himself back together, flashes of who we were keeping him in the now as much as it could. I thought of all of these things, and fell into the abyss with him.

The large, open living room, clad in all white, was slowly suffocating me. My father stood, leaned against the back of the couch, his hands gripping the Italian leather, as my mom rattled on about my duties as a daughter, as a wife. I ran my sweaty palms down my jeans and he frowned.

“He’s sent the paperwork. It’s done. In a month’s time I’ll no longer be his wife. It’s what I want… what he wants.”

“What about in the eyes of the Lord, you’ve been running around with Declan, you left your husband for another man, he attacked—”

“Clark was hurting me, Declan was defending me!” My eyes raised to the ceiling as I tried to calm my temper.

“You’ve lost your way.” My mother’s self-righteous voice picked at every insecurity I had.

“Don’t be ridiculous, this is crazy. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see that I was miserable with Clark, that he treated me like garbage? For God’s sake, I’m your daughter.”

“Watch your mouth.” My mother’s lips mashed into a straight line, and I rolled my eyes.

“You think you’re better than us?” My father’s tone was unforgiving, and his eyes narrowed.

“N-no,” I stuttered as those hard eyes met mine.

“The outside world judges us every day with their dirty mouths. I can see it on you. Those clothes you wear, they can’t hide what’s inside you, what lurks and lives inside your heart. You’ve given yourself to that man again, and you’ll sink even further.” He laughed without humor, and my stomach dropped as he stood to his full height and rounded the sofa. “His sickness has polluted your mind. Have you forgotten the scriptures? James chapter one, verse fifteen. ‘Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.’You’ve let the Devil claim your soul, and you’re as good as dead to me.”

I waited for the tears to come as he walked toward me, but they didn’t. Anger bloomed an orange flame, and it set my chest ablaze as I stood with my hands fisted at my sides.

“Sit down,” my mother hissed, but I locked my eyes on hers.

“Neither of you are truly God-fearing. You don’t care about your daughter’s wellbeing. All you care about is status. You both have turned your back on your so-called Savior.My God, my Savior… he sees you for what you are, and believe me, you will be judged accordingly.”

A searing pain erupted across my cheekbone, and the sound of my father’s hand against my skin filled the open room. I raised my palm to my cheek and my eyes watered.

“Get out of this house!” he roared.

I turned to my mother as I picked up my jacket from the arm of the couch and slipped it on. Nursing my cheek with my shaking fingers, I grabbed my bag with my free hand. “The Bible also teaches acceptance, and love, and forgiveness. Even after judgement, we all still have a chance.” My eyes dried as I watched my mother’s fill with tears. “I can’t live a life where love doesn’t exist, and this house, it’s filled with hate. If Heaven is what you’ve painted, I want no part of it.”

I waited. I watched. My mother turned her face to the right, and a lone tear trickled down her cheek as her eyes fixed on the wall. My father’s face was red, filled with disdain as I tried to meet his eyes.

“Get out.” This time he whispered through thin lips tight with suppressed rage.

As I placed my bag on my shoulder and turned to leave, I thought about saying I love you, but what I felt for them was purely nostalgic, written in a primal blood tie that pulled at my heart as I walked out of my family home onto the snow-covered porch.

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