Pool of Crimson

chapter 5



I couldn’t move. I was flat on my back, and I couldn’t move my arms and legs. My heart raced and the familiar padded restraints around my wrists and ankles irritated my skin as I tried to pull away from the table I was strapped to. The several light fixtures that hung from the ceiling with cages covering the bright white bulbs hurt my eyes. I couldn’t see anything past a few feet around me, and beyond that was darkness.

I’d been here before. The familiar ionic smell from deep in my brain filled the air. It singed my nose hair, and I struggled harder to get free.

I had to get out of here. The restraints were so strong, so tight. I couldn’t budge any of them, on my wrists or on my ankles. I lifted my head from the table to try and see into the darkness, but I could only lift myself up so far. Something was attached to my temples and the adhesive pulled painfully at my skin when I lifted my head. My eyes watered as the skin at my temples burned and tore.

“No,” I whispered into the emptiness surrounding me. “Please no,” I whimpered softly as my jaw tightened and the tears slid down the sides of my face, wetting my hair and filling my ears with warm salt water. I couldn’t be here, not again.

“Don’t cry,” a soft feminine voice cooed from the corner. I knew that voice, too. A small woman with my features and thick blond hair that had been dyed too many times to hold any remnants of her original auburn stepped from the darkness. Her features were sharp but had a softness to them that made her pretty instead of striking. She was beautiful, petite, and scary as hell.

“Mom, what are you doing?” I asked through broken sobs. I was still trying to pull my wrists free from the restraints as I spoke. They were too tight, and I couldn’t slip my hands through. The skin over my thumb burned as I stretched and twisted my hand to pull it free from the beige leather restraints.

If I can get just one hand out ...

“I’m going to help you,” she said with a self-confident smile that I recognized from my childhood. It was soft, warm, and painful.

“I’m okay, really. I don’t need help,” I said with false confidence as I sniffled and tried to pull myself together.

“No, darling, you’re anything but okay,” she said as she stroked my hair away from my face. Her fingers were chilled and clammy as they brushed my forehead. She looked down into my face and met my eyes without a speck of regret or uncertainty. It was the first time that I’d felt actual terror. “This will make all those things you think you see go away. You’ll be better. You’ll see,” she said, a confident little smile lighting her soft green eyes.

My bottom lip trembled in fear and I ripped my head away from her touch. I had to get free. I wouldn’t let her do this to me again. Not again.

“Struggling, darling, will only make it hurt worse,” she said, an irritated tone to her singsong voice as she stepped away. Deep down, I knew she was right, remembered that she was right.

The first jolt of electricity ripped through my body like lightning. All my muscles tensed in shock, and I bit down to grit my teeth to bare it.

“ERRRRRGGGHHHH.”

I opened my eyes and sat straight up. My breath was quick and shallow as I looked around a familiar room, a familiar bed, and the familiar peace and quiet of my bedroom. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I brushed the tears from my cheeks. The all-too-familiar smell of burnt flesh and hair filled my nose.

I’m okay. It was just a dream. Just a stupid God damn dream.

My face scrunched up in remembered terror, and I cried. I cried until I had no tears left and I was exhausted from the effort. It had been a long time since I’d dreamed of those sessions. It had been a long time since I’d even thought about the electroshock therapy. I’d managed to push it, and my family, from my mind, my life, and my reality. I’d shoved them deep inside myself into a tight black box to seal them away so that the horror of what she’d done to me wouldn’t ever show.

I’d grown up in a small town in Eastern Ohio and being different in a small town wasn’t something I advertised. I’ve seen spirits since the age of five. I knew I was different at around five when I asked my mother if the guy standing next to her in our kitchen could have a lick of the brownie mix from the spoon, too. She looked at me in horror, I knew I had done something wrong. I tried never to mention them again. In fact, I got really good at ignoring the spirits to the point where I didn’t even notice them anymore. They had turned into a soft gray blur at the edge of my vision. The other night in the attic had brought all of my painful past back to me with a vengeance.

I’d been fine all through childhood and adolescence, managing my strange ability, no one the wiser, until I was sixteen. Brennan, my high school boyfriend, had decided it would be fun to try and scare me and probably get a chance to cop a feel. The whole night had been a bad idea. I usually avoided cemeteries if I could and from the moment we stepped onto the consecrated soil, I had been completely bombarded by spirits from every angle. They screamed, cried, laughed, poked, and prodded at me the entire night. Brennan had had no clue until I touched him.

He’d been trying to open something and had a knife in his hands. I’d wanted to leave. Once I’d touched him to get his attention, he saw what I saw. He swung his arm, swatted at a spirit and cut me in the process. My blood bubbled to the surface, coating my skin with its warmth. The scent of fresh blood drew something quick and primal out of the darkness of the woods surrounding the cemetery. The thing attacked us, latching on to my arm with its small razor sharp teeth, sinking them into my skin. Its small childlike hands gripped me for dear life as I screamed and tried to shake it off. I instinctually gripped the creature’s head in my other hand without a thought and twisted until I heard a quick snap of its neck. The creature fell to the ground, dead. It had been such a tiny thing, no bigger than a toddler but the marks it had left on my arm gushed blood. The wounds burned, making me lightheaded with pain and blood loss. I’d managed to catch up with Brennan as he ran. We got the hell out of there and never went back.

Once we were safe, I told my parents everything and paid for it. To this day, Brennan kept what had happened to us hidden. He’d turned to God instead and the priesthood.

I had to live with the agony of knowing that my parents thought I was crazy. The psychiatrist they’d forced me to see had said electroshock therapy would help. All it did was teach me to keep my mouth shut and keep what I saw to myself.

I pushed the covers away and got out of bed. There was no way in hell I was getting back to sleep after that nightmare. The morning was young. The clock flashed 4:45 a.m. in an angry red digital font. I knew exactly how it felt.

I trudged down the stairs in my flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top with some hesitancy. I remembered that Jade was sleeping on the couch. I made my way into my dining room where my corner desk and computer were set up.

Might as well get some work done.

I fired up the computer and started with Google. I searched for ‘demons’, ‘protective amulets’, and ‘Ahriman’ with no results and was pretty frustrated when I heard a scuffle at the door.

“So, you can’t sleep either?” Jade asked as she pushed a handful of dark hair from her face.

“Nope.” I wasn’t up for talking yet.

“Whatcha doin’?” she asked as she pulled up a chair next to me and squinted at the computer screen. She wasn’t awake yet either. It took her a few blinks and a hard rub at her eyes to really focus. “I should’ve taken my contacts out,” she chastised herself.

“Probably.”

“Why don’t you let me do this? You make us some breakfast.” She shoved me out of the way and took my chair. I raised my hands in surrender. I’d considered, really considered not letting her help but by the looks of it, I wasn’t going to be able to get rid of her. She was like a barnacle on the bottom of a ship, once she clung on to something, she wouldn’t let go.

“Coffee?” I asked, heading to the kitchen.

“Yes, please.” Even with the dream fresh in my mind, somehow I felt better knowing I wasn’t alone.