Page 118 of Visions of Darkness

To heal.

To slay.

To free them of the chains. To loose them of the voices that haunted and howled, so loud that I could almost hear the snare of it beating through me.

It’d been bearable when we were in the middle of the store since we kept our distance from others as much as we could. Dim enough that I’d managed to resist the call, even though it made me feel sick to walk away when every fiber in my being told me it was my purpose.

The reason I was here.

It was harder here, where people crowded together around the registers.

Blurred intonations hummed around me.

A low drone that fizzled and curled through the air.

“Take it, no one will notice.”

“Kick the little brat’s ass when you get home. He’s so spoiled. Rotten to the core.”

“Wouldn’t it feel nice to drag that razor across your flesh? To see the blood flow? Don’t you miss it?”

“Look at her. She wants you. Get her number. Your wife will never know. How long has it been since she’s let you touch her? It’s her fault, anyway. She drove you to this.”

It was the first time I’d been around so many people since I’d been admitted to the mental hospital. Since I’d first touched Jenny and found a new way into the darkness.

Voices penetrated now.

Growing louder.

I squeezed my eyes like I could shield myself from them.

“Are you okay?” Pax’s rough words cut into the disorder.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Only it became too much when a wave of wickedness suddenly rolled over me. A dark, suffocating cloud. Black smoke that filled the atmosphere.

Consuming.

Overwhelming.

An infant wailed. Inconsolable.

Hopelessness coiled in the darkened mist.

I tried to squeeze my eyes against the assault.

“Why would you bring him into this world? Why would you put him through this? Think of all the pain that is to come in this life. Why do you think he won’t stop crying? He already knows. Do it when you give him a bath. Put him out of his misery. It will be painless.”

I gasped as my eyes flashed open. Drawn, they landed on a woman who pushed a cart into the store with an infant seat set in the basket.

She swiped at the tears on her face, and she reached out and rubbed the baby’s belly. I couldn’t hear it, but I saw what she said: “Please stop crying. My sweet boy, please stop crying.”

“He won’t. You know what you have to do.”

Grief filled her.

Harrowing. Devastating.

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