Touched by the Devilish One
Mary Nicholson
SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Mary D. Nicholson Smashwords
Touched by the Devilish One
Copyright © 2011 by Mary D. Nicholson
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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Chapter 1
Charlie rose slowly to his feet, brushed himself off and yanked out the ear buds that blasted his ears. I can’t do this anymore, he thought as he pitched his MP3 player to the side. A chilly breeze passed by him, causing him to shiver. His heart pounded like a fist in his chest and he started to run, then stopped. Face the evil, he repeated over and over in his head, knowing he must defeat whatever it was that tormented him. He greedily eyed the iron gate that led out of the cemetery, but managed to overcome the urge to flee.
Thinking back to the day before was difficult. He had a vague recollection of challenging Rick Rose to a fight, but it was fuzzy. He had been falling in and out of dreams all night. What’s happening to me?
A low groan echoed from behind, he took a deep breath and turned to face it. There was nothing.
“What the fuck do you want from me!” he yelled. His voice echoed back and ended with a giggle that was not his own.
This isn’t real! My mind is playing tricks on me. John had gone missing years ago and there was nothing he could do to bring him back. Still the guilt bit deep into him and tore away at his soul.
The door knob on the old schoolhouse began to rattle. Charlie turned, clinched his fists and approached with caution. His chest heaved and he thought at any moment he was going to have a heart attack. Breathe Charlie, breathe.
“If you plan on killing me then just do it now!” he yelled, and the rattling stopped.
Looking from side to side he crept toward the door, held his breath, grabbed the knob, turned and pulled. The door swung back with an eerie creak.
It was dusky inside, and took a minute for his eyes to adjust. Small wooden school desks were organized in two neat rows. In the center toward the back, was a black, cast iron stove. Behind it an antique table stood out large and prominent.
The floorboards squeaked as Charlie stepped inside. Catching his breath, he ran his slippery hands up and down his pant legs, and pressed forward. Something was wrong he thought. Everything was in good condition, which was not possible. The school house had been abandoned for years.
CLANK!
Charlie jumped. “Who’s there?” he asked with as much confidence as he could fake.
CLANK! SKEEEEEEEECH!
There was a crackling and a whoosh. The room lit up. Charlie’s eyes shot forward and focused nervously on the orange flames that glowed from within the cast iron stove.
“Who are you!” demanded Charlie. He gulped hard, wiped his hands again on his pant legs, and continued forward.
“What do you want from me!” his voice cracked.
A dark shadow fell across the back wall and there was a scurrying and a giggle. SKEEECH! The sound became furious. Steadily Charlie approached. A black board hung on the wall, stretching from one side of the room to other. Plumes of limestone filled the air as the scratching continued. He mustered the courage to push forward, squinted and read the words that flashed across the board.
‘It’s too soon!’ was written over and over.
Sparks spewed from the mysterious floating chalk as it raced across the board, faster and faster. The sound grew deafening and Charlie reached for his ears and pressed hard, his hands slipping in the sweat that poured from his head. The heat in the room became unbearable as the blaze in the antique stove licked higher.
“Stop! Stop!” yelled Charlie.
John’s laughing head appeared in a thick haze of chalk dust. Overcome with fear and unwilling to turn around, Charlie slowly began to back out. His breathing eased only when he was met by the cool outside air. His eyes were wide with terror and remained fixed on the schoolhouse.
Catching his foot, he fell back on his rear, just as the door swung shut with a bang. Springing to his feet, he watched a small corner of granite break through the ground. The earth trembled and more of the granite pushed through. Charlie looked on in horror. He rubbed frantically at his eyes trying to wipe away the image, yet more of the stone emerged. The letter R appeared neatly etched into the smooth slab’s surface. Frozen, he looked on as the slab leveled out and the ground became still.
“Rick Rose,” whispered Charlie. At that moment he knew something terrible had happened to his bully. His head began to swim and his vision went blurry as he desperately tried to find a clear path out of the cemetery. A soupy fog enveloped him and Rick floated before his eyes.
“I’m going to kick your ass!” shouted Rick as he buried his fist into his hand.
“No, this can’t be happening!” yelled Charlie. Closing his eyes tightly, he took a few deep breaths, and willed his racing heart to slow. He opened his eyes and Rick was gone. Wasting no more time, he ran toward the iron gate with all the speed he could muster.
Charlie burst through the gate and the chill in the air immediately subsided. Resting his hands on his knees, he tried to catch his breath. As he looked up at the old oak tree that stood guard over the cemetery he thought, I’m safe now. He straightened and started to walk home.
Passing through the ever green trees was the hardest part, and he immediately regretted throwing his MP3 player to the side. Music relaxed him, making his miserable existence more tolerable, but it also distracted him. Determined to face the evil he trudged on in silent, deep thought. He hated Rick Rose, and he knew now that he was dead. No longer would he be bullied. Feelings of guilt mixed with pleasure bubbled up inside of Charlie. Considering his experiences, he had never wished harm on anyone or rejoiced in others misfortunes, but he felt differently now. He was angry, tired and fed-up with what fate had handed him.
He wondered if he were channeling the dead, and was the voice for those who had passed on. Was it his job to discover the mystery behind John’s disappearance? Was he supposed to find out what had happened to Rick? Was there really an evil that shadowed him or was it his imagination? No matter how he tried to reason the visions that plagued him, he still had a nagging feeling that he was somehow responsible for whatever happened to those boys.
Chapter 2
Soon after breaking through the thick ever green forest, the ramshackle house he called home came into view. The comfort he had felt for not having visions along the way was dashed as he eyed the cars that crowded the small gravel road that led to the house. One was his mother’s, one his father’s, and the other he did not recognize.
Charlie took a deep breath, pushed his fingers through his oily hair, and then began to brush off the night’s debris that clung to his clothes. He crept toward the house, climbed the three stairs leading to the front door and grabbed the handle. He hesitated, convinced himself he could handle whatever awaited him inside, and turned the knob.
As the door swung back he was greeted with a gust of warm air, which made the skin of his face tingle. Unzipping his jacket he looked ahead and noticed the furniture had been rearranged. The small sofa from along the wall now faced the door and his favorite chair was no longer in front of the TV, but off to the side. Anxiety filled Charlie as he raced his fingers through his hair, wicking away the moisture from his palms.
“Good afternoon, Charlie,” said his mother as she peered up at him from the sofa. She sat straight and stiff with her ankles crossed and fingers intertwined. She shifted constantly and twiddled her fingers. A large smile spread across her face, which Charlie recognized as her ‘I’m about to get emotional’ look.
On the other end of the sofa sat his father, resting against the arm, propping up his head with a clinched fist. His forehead was furrowed and his face expressionless as he stared at Charlie with hollow eyes.
Charlie’s mom cleared her throat loudly.
“Yo, Charlie,” said his father.
“Long time no see dad,” said Charlie with sarcasm, and he began to feel his blood boil. His eyes shifted to his beloved chair, his seat of comfort while he watched TV and willed the visions to go away. It was now occupied by an unknown person, who watched him intently, assessing his every move and word. How dare he sit in my chair!
“Hello Charlie,” said the chubby man as he pulled his glasses down the bridge of his nose, as if to get a better look at the young man in front of him. “I’m Dr. Murray.” He crossed a leg over his knee, rested back, and sighed. “We’re here today to-”’
“You’ve got to be shitting me!” boomed Charlie. “Let me guess, an intervention?”
Charlie’s mom released a gasp and raised a hand to her mouth. His father remained unmoved.
“Your parents have gone to a lot of trouble to arrange this meeting today, Charlie. Please have a seat.” He motioned him toward the sofa.
“What’s this about!” demanded Charlie.
Dr. Murray’s hand disappeared beside the chair and returned with an empty bottle of Vodka.
“Go ahead Mrs. Lane,” said the Doctor as he eyed Charlie’s mother.
She gulped hard. “I found that bottle under your bed and I’ve noticed alcohol missing from my cupboard.” Her hands began to tremble and her eyes welled with tears.
“Jesus Christ, I don’t have a God damn drinking problem mom!”
“Watch your mouth!” yelled his father as he sprang to his feet and made a start for Charlie. Dr. Murray rose quickly and positioned himself between father and son. He placed a restraining hand on Mr. Lane’s chest and turned to Charlie.
“Maybe you’d be more comfortable if you sat over here,” said the doctor and he motioned toward the large cushy chair.
Charlie hesitated a moment then sat in his chair, it felt uncomfortably warm, but it was still homey. Anger filled his head to capacity and his brain felt like it was going to pop. For an insane moment he panicked that the visions might occur. As he slouched in the chair he rested his elbows on the arms, pushed his hands together as if in prayer, and stared intently at the floor, examining every bit of the braided rug beneath his feet.
“Charlie, your parents love you very much,” said Dr. Murray. “They each have prepared something to say to you.”
“The day you were born was the happiest day of my life, Charlie,” stammered his mother. “We used to have so much fun together. Remember how we’d got to the store and peel all the stickers off the bananas, even when passersby would cluck their tongues and shake their heads? Then we’d sing the…” Her mouth began to contort and her lips quivered. Her hands flew to her face and she began to sob wildly.
Cut me a break!
The doctor reached over and began to rub her shoulder, then turned to Mr. Lane and nodded his head. There was a crumpling as Mr. Lane gently unfolded a piece of paper.
“Charlie, you’re my only child and I know I’m not a big part of your life any more, but-”
Charlie pressed his index fingers against his upper lip and smirked.
Mr. Lane crumbled the paper into a ball and threw it to the floor. Shifting forward, he rested his elbows against his legs, looked down and sighed. “Look bud, I know things haven’t been the same since your mother and I divorced. I wish I could be here for you, but my job moved me away, and I provide for you as best I can.”
“You left me with an emotional cripple dad!” yelled Charlie.
“Don’t talk about your mother that way!”
“It’s true and you know it!”
“Charlie is right,” interrupted Mrs. Lane. “I’m here, but I’m not really here.” She wrung her hands.
“Do you have a history of suffering depression?” asked the Doctor.
She took a deep breath and said, “Yes. In fact, I’m in therapy now.”
“Are you on any type of medication?”
“No, I stopped taking antidepressants because I must face my problems head on.” She beamed with delight.
She’s done it again! She’s stolen the show. But at the same time he was relieved that the spot light was off of him. As his eyes flitted from the rug to his father, he felt uncomfortable under his penetrating stare. Anger enveloped his entire soul and his blood pressure was like a blocked fire hose. Wanting to escape, he knew there was no place to go, a trap had been set and now he must wait it out. But why did his father have to look at him like that? His look was one of pity mixed with the expression of one who had come to the realization that his son was truly insane.
Mrs. Lane took pause to breathe, giving her ex-husband the opportunity to speak.
“I have some good news I wanted to share with you Charlie,” said Mr. Lane. “I received a promotion – a significant promotion.” He hesitated, and then continued. “And I want you to come and live with me Charlie.”
“He can’t live with you!” yelled Mrs. Lane. “There’s a court order!”
“It’s up to Charlie now. He’s old enough to petition the court where he wants to live,” said Mr. Lane. “You know this. We already discussed it.”
“You bastard!” she boomed.
“Don’t do this, not here, not now. It’s not a competition. It’s whatever Charlie wants. I’ll support whatever decision he makes.”
Mrs. Lane’s face reddened as she raised her tightly clenched fists into the air. Every muscle in her face tensed, and it looked like she might explode. She jumped to her feet, mumbled some obscenities and fled the room.
“Really,” Charlie was incredulous. “You actually want to be involved in my life?”
“Of course I do son, but you must dry out first. I can afford a house keeper now, who can always be with you, but you’ll have to stay sober or I may lose her. That’s all I ask. Can you do it?”
He never thought of his father as more than the invisible person who provided for him. Charlie did not live extravagantly, but he had enough to be comfortable. His father relocated often, and the thought of moving around excited Charlie. Seeing new places, meeting new people, and being far away from Gravel Hill Cemetery was more than he had hoped for. Being away from his crazy mom was another plus, but he knew his absence would kill her, it was all so confusing. Despite the nagging guilt he already felt for his mother, he straightened in his chair, looked up at the adults before him, smiled and nodded his head.
Dr. Murray rubbed his hands together and leaned forward. “This is good Charlie. You’re taking steps toward independence by making such heartfelt decisions.” He cleared his throat. “Now let’s get to the bottom of your drinking problem. Your mother tells me you spend hours in that chair in front of the television, and when she leaves at night you get intoxicated. Is this true? Is this a typical day for you?”
“Pretty much, I guess.”
“So what are you thinking about just before you sit down in that chair and flick on the TV?”
“I don’t know. Just glad I’m away from school, I guess”
“Okay, school. What’s school like for you?”
“It’s boring.”
“Has it always been boring? There was a time you were a good student and a terrific softball player, right? Did that all change after your friend John disappeared?”
Charlie shifted in his chair and bit into his lower lip. Rolling his tongue across the wound, the taste of sweet metallic blood filled his mouth. Mustn’t think about John, he repeated in his head, fearing thoughts of him would bring the visions. He twisted his head quickly and peeked out the side window. It was still day light, but that no longer mattered. The visions now came at all times.
“What is it Charlie?” asked the Doctor.
Silence.
“They never found that boy,” said Mr. Lane. “Charlie was his best friend, and the last person to see him alive.”
“It wasn’t my fault!” yelled Charlie as he sprang from his chair. Pacing a circle, he eyed the braided rug, the colors blurred into one, and he began to feel dizzy. His chest heaved and he worried that at any moment the visions would appear. He shook his head from side to side violently, trying to shake the thoughts from his head.
“Do you feel responsible for his death, because it’s not your fault Charlie,” said Dr. Murray.
“It’s not my fault! I know it’s not my fault!” He stopped pacing and turned to stare out the window. Is darkness setting in? If the visions can occur during the day does that mean they’re guaranteed at night? His shirt clung uncomfortably to his body and drops of sweat rolled down his face, causing him to tickle. He ran the back of his hand across his forehead.
“You keep looking outside Charlie,” pressed the Doctor. “Do you know something about John’s disappearance? What are you afraid of?”
“Something’s out there!” yelled Charlie. “It waits for me. It torments me with John. It won’t stop!”
“Something?” questioned the doctor.
Charlie was feeling confused, his head was foggy.
“Someone,” he corrected himself.
“Who’s this person you’re afraid of Charlie? Do you know who it is?”
“No! No! I don’t know!” He grabbed his hair with both hands and began to pull.
“Stop!” yelled Mr. Lane and he ran to Charlie, catching him in his arms just as he collapsed.
Chapter 3
“It’s too soon to know,” whispered a voice.
“He’s been under a lot of stress lately. It’s hard on him, with his friend disappearing, and then the divorce.”
“You should consider it though.”
“His mother will never agree to it.”
“But she’ll agree to the original plan?”
“Yes, I’m sure she will.”
“Okay, it’s a good first step.”
Finding himself stretched across the sofa, Charlie swung his feet to the floor, only to be overcome with dizziness. He waited for the head rush to pass before standing on uneasy feet and slowly making his way toward the voices.
“What about your ex-wife’s mental condition?”
“I know what you’re thinking and I agree. She needs medication, but that’s going to be tough because she’s convinced she must face her problems without meds.”
“Hmmmm, this isn’t good for Charlie.”
Charlie fumbled through the dark toward the light of the kitchen. His heart pounded hard in anticipation of the visions. I should be shit faced right now! He could not take his mind off the alcohol that was in the cupboard, but it was impossible to sneak past his father and the doctor. A bottle of rum, new and unopened was there waiting for him. He longed for it and could practically taste the sweet sugary, burning liquid.
He was distracted by movement along the wall. Panic filled him. Standing still, he shifted his eyes toward the motion and a dark form of a person appeared. He rubbed his eyes, squinted a few times and crept toward it. A cold hand grasped his arm, pulling him close.
“Shhh,” said his mother. She held on to him as if she feared he would slip away. Then she began to run her fingers through his hair. “I love you more than anything else in the world Charlie. You know that, right?” she whispered.
“Of course mom,” he said.
“Let’s go,” she said, and pulled him gently into the kitchen.
“Look who’s up,” said Mrs. Lane cheerfully.
“How are you feeling, Charlie?” asked the doctor.
“Ok, I guess,” responded Charlie.
Mr. Lane rose from the table and pulled out two chairs.
“Please sit Charlie,” he said, and then motioned his ex-wife to the other chair.
Charlie obeyed. Knowing some decision had already been made, he tried hard to control the rage that filled him.
“So, I hope you boys haven’t made any decisions without me,” said Mrs. Lane sarcastically. "After all he’s still a minor and I’m still his mother.”
Dr. Murray shot Mr. Lane a look of caution.
“Well, we all agree that Charlie has a drinking problem and needs some help, right?” said the doctor.
Mrs. Lane nodded in agreement, but her eyes began to narrow.
Charlie stared out the little kitchen window over the sink. The sky was now gray with hints or orange as the sun began to set. He hoped the intervention would end soon.
“Charlie?” said the Doctor.
“I guess,” he responded.
“There’s no guessing here. The first step is to admit you have a problem, we can’t continue without you realizing this,” pleaded Dr. Murray.
Wanting the meeting to end, Charlie finally nodded his head.
“Okay what we want to do is sign you up from Alcoholics Anonymous.”
Silence.
This is bullshit! I can stop drinking whenever I want.
Mrs. Lane shifted in her seat, rested her hands on the table and released a sigh.
“I think this is a good idea, Charlie,” she said and she reached across the table, grabbing one of Charlie’s sweaty hands.
“Sure mom.” Despite the anger he felt for her absence, and the fact that he did not have a drinking problem, he wanted to make her happy. Her touch still comforted him and momentarily took away thoughts of the visions. Gulping hard, Charlie looked up at the faces upon him and said, “I’ll do it, okay?”
Dr. Murray smiled wide and Mr. Lane gave a short nod of the head. Mrs. Lane’s eyes sparkled with delight and she squeezed his hand hard.
“You’re hurting me mom,” protested Charlie.
She smirked and raised her free hand to her face to wipe back the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
“I already made a few calls,” said Dr. Murray. “The meetings are every Monday and Wednesday at 5 o’clock at the First Baptist Church.”
A hard lump formed in Charlie’s throat and he looked up at his father. Mr. Lane was resting against the sink, arms folded across his chest, and staring at his ex-wife.
Mrs. Lane released Charlie’s hand, tilted her head to the side and exhaled loudly. “Baptist church!” she said. “Will they be pushing religion on my Charlie?”
“No, I guarantee that,” said the Doctor. “The church has allowed the groups to meet there for free.”
“For free?” she said angrily. “I doubt that.”
“Look, Joan,” said Mr. Lane. “I know where you’re coming from and I agree, but Charlie needs help. Can we give it a week? If we find there’s any type of religion pushing then we’ll find him another program.”
There was a pause, and then Mrs. Lane reluctantly nodded her head.
Chapter 4
Charlie rested an elbow on the table and propped up his head. He swirled a spoon in a bowl of soggy cereal with the other hand. He had no appetite and played with his food while he tried desperately to keep his eyes open.
“Everything ok, Charlie?” asked his mother.
“Yeah,” he said, and released a giant yawn.
“Did you get any sleep?” She pulled out the chair opposite him, sat down and watched him intently.
“Yeah, sure mom,” he lied.
“I hope we weren’t too loud last night.” She turned and looked out the little window over the kitchen sink. The day’s light shone on her face, making her appear much older than she was. Charlie tried hard to picture the once beautiful woman who was his mom, but it was difficult. He knew he was responsible for her premature aging and depression. She always seemed happy when he was younger. It wasn’t until John disappeared and the divorce that she sunk into a depression, and left Charlie, mentally. They kept telling him he was not responsible for any of it, but maybe that is because it really was his entire fault.
“Charlie, I’ve made some hard decisions.” He looked up at his mother’s smiling face, stopped swirling the spoon, and gave her his full attention. “Since your father has received a big promotion, he’s agreed to provide more support. So, I’ve decided to cut back my work hours.”
Charlie felt excited, but only momentarily. He had been up most of the night fighting off the visions. It was not until they had all left that he snuck into the kitchen and took several large gulps from the bottle of rum. It was not until then that he was able to get some sleep. As much as he desired his mother’s attention, her presence would affect his routine of watching TV and getting drunk. The desire to confide in her about the visions came and went as he reminded himself that he was the cause of her decline.
He forced a smile. “That’s great mom. What’s your new schedule?” Maybe I can sneak the booze part-time.
“Nine to two Monday through Thursday.”
“Can you trust dad?”
Her smile brightened. “Don’t worry Charlie; we can trust your dad. I’ve made some concessions on my side.”
Silence enveloped them as Charlie held his breath in anticipation.
“He’d like you to visit him every other weekend.”
“In Florida?” asked Charlie.
“No dear.” She brushed back the hair from her face. “Colorado. He’s been relocated there, for now.”
“Oh,” said Charlie. The thought of another cold state did not appeal to him, but it would take him from Gravel Hill Cemetery, and maybe the visions would stop.
“Charlie, you’ll like being with me now,” she said. “I have all kinds of activities planned in my head, since we’ll have more time together. You love me, right?”
He looked into her imploring eyes and his heart skipped as he realized just how much he meant to her.
“Of course I do, mom.”
“Well, you know how I feel about medicines.”
“Yes, they’re bad for you, once you take them you can’t stop.”
“Then you agree with me.”
“Of course mom.”
“Well, I’ll be seeing a psychiatrist now and taking antidepressants. I’m going to do it for you, Charlie.”
“But you hate meds, mom.”
“I know, but the thought of you being away from me is more than I can bear.”
“So you won’t be seeing the quack anymore?”
“I’ll still be seeing my therapist. I’m moving my sessions to Tuesday and Thursdays now at four. I figure more time with the therapist will help me.”
“She tells you what you want to hear mom!”
“Don’t say that Charlie.” Her eyes narrowed. “She’s excellent and has helped me a lot.” Mrs. Lane took a deep breath, “Charlie, I don’t want to fight with you about this. Your father wants me to take meds. It’s part of our deal. I don’t want to take them, but I’ll do it for you.”
“Are you sure mom? Can you stop taking them whenever you want?” Feelings of guilt bit deep into him.
“Of course Charlie, but what about you? Can you stop drinking?” She pushed back her chair, rose to her feet and walked over to the cupboard. A wily grin spread across her face as she pulled out the bottle of rum. Turning toward Charlie, she said, “I do believe this was a full bottle, last I looked.”
“It was just a sip, mom!” he yelled.
“You think I’m stupid!” she retorted. “Do I need to remove all the alcohol from the house, Charlie?”
“Why would you need to do that?” demanded Charlie. “I don’t have a problem. I can stop whenever I want. Look at me, am I drunk?”
“Dr. Murray and your father have insisted I remove all the alcohol from the house, but we need to face our problems Charlie.”
“If we need to face our problems why are you taking the easy way out with drugs?”
“I’m doing it for you Charlie, so your father won’t try to take you away.”
“So now it’s my fault you have to take drugs, is that it, mom?”
“No, your father has me over a barrel, Charlie. I’ll do anything to keep you. We need each other, you know that Charlie.”
“No you need your stupid therapist and whatever money dad throws at you!”
“Careful Charlie,” she warned.
“I’m out of here!” he screamed as he sprang to his feet and raced toward the front door. Mrs. Lane jumped in front of him, one hand on her hip and the other pointing a finger in his face.
“Are we good Charlie? I don’t want to remove all the booze.”
“Dad was right, you’re mentally unstable!”
Before Charlie could react, his mother’s hand flew up and landed hard on his cheek.
“How dare you!” Her voice was an angry hiss.
Charlie did not know what burned more, his cheek, or the rage that boiled inside of him. Fearing the urge to strike her back, he shoved her to the side, grabbed his jacket and backpack, and stormed out of the house.
Chapter 5
The cold air engulfed him, chilling him to the bone as he stood motionless, looking at the evergreen forest. He zipped his black leather jacket up as far as it would go, and then instinctively shoved his hand into its pocket, searching for the MP3 player.
“Damn it,” he mumbled under his breath and he turned toward the house, certain there was an old Walkman he could use, but then he changed his mind. Determined to face his problems head on he took a deep breath, and plodded toward the wavering evergreens.
Facing the evil, he thought sarcastically. Mother dear is opting for drugs, but I must face my problems. True she’s no choice, but she rolled over like nothing, not even giving a hint of protest. The therapy is useless, so maybe the drugs will actually help. Maybe I should take drugs, but that would mean I’m crazy, and I’m not! There’s something that follows me. I see it, it’s real.
A whistling wind blew past Charlie, snapping him out of his thoughts. The trees around him swayed wildly, even though the breeze had subsided. Charlie’s heart quickened and his chest began to heave as he struggled to breathe. The tress blurred into one, becoming a giant green vortex. A thick fog formed around him. He stumbled forward, blindly, determined not to stop.
“Leave me the fuck alone!” yelled Charlie.
A deep voice blasted, “I’m going to kick your ass!”
Charlie’s hands flew up to his ears and pressed hard.
Rick’s face appeared a few inches from his own. “I’m going to get you crazy Charlie!”
The fear that frothed inside of Charlie was unbearable. His brain was on fire, his temples began to throb, and he felt that at any moment his head would explode. Acid rose in his throat, and he tried not to vomit as he swallowed it back down. He had just reached his snapping point when he suddenly felt better. The fear was now trapped deep inside of him, hidden away along with Charlie. Now overcome with elation, he stopped and looked at the apparition before him, a smirk spread across his face. “No, I got you Rick Rose!”
Rick’s face twisted in rage and he opened his mouth as if to yell, but the gaping hole grew bigger and wider, distorting his entire head. Hundreds of silvery spikes shot out of the globular mouth and came whizzing down on Charlie’s head. An evil laugh escaped Charlie and the apparition disappeared.
Ding!
He was dazed and exhausted. As he rubbed his eyes hard, he strained through blurry vision and saw the school. He had broken through the forest and watched as students quickened their pace to the large brick building.
Ding!
Charlie looked at his watch and focused hard on its hands. Having five minutes to get to class, he began to run toward the school. Not because he cared about making it on time, but because he wanted to avoid being humiliated by the teacher for arriving late.
He stormed through the classroom door just as the final bell rang. There were muffled giggles, but Charlie’s eyes drifted to the floor, and remained there. Then he heard the whispers.
“Charlie,” said the graying man at the front of the room.
Charlie raised his eyes slowly to meet the teachers gaze, but said nothing.
“Can you please shut the door?”
He nodded his head, turned back and kicked up the door stop. Shifting his eyes back to the floor he made his way to the rear of the room to the last row, taking his seat next to the window. He searched through his backpack and pulled out a notebook and pencil.
SKEEEEEEEECH!
Charlie’s hands began to tremble. He hesitated to look ahead. Droplets of sweat fell from his head, noiselessly splattering on the polished school floor.
TAP! TAP!
Face the evil, he reminded himself. Taking a deep breath he straightened in his seat and looked forward. The teacher was scribbling the day’s lessons on the dry erase board. Just my imagination, thought Charlie and he sighed in relief.
His eyes flitted across the room only to notice a few kids had turned to stare at him. Some seemed fearful, others questioning. Charlie ran the back of his hand across his forehead, and then wiped it against his pant leg. He could feel penetrating eyes from the seat next to him. He turned to look and flushed, feeling embarrassed as he met the gaze of the prettiest girl in school. It was impossible for him not to sweat, which always made him uncomfortable. A girl like that, of course, would never be interested in him, so he looked at her as indifferently as possible, refusing to return her smile.
She made a start to speak, but he turned away. Pretending to pay attention to the lesson, he wondered what she wanted to say. He kicked himself for being rude, but at the same time she was the prettiest girl in school, so it was possible that she planned on saying something cruel. Crazy Charlie came to mind, but he was used to that taunt. As he continued questioning the girl’s intent, he found his stare lingering on an empty desk in front of him, two rows ahead. That was Rick Rose's seat.
“Hey,” whispered the girl.
He hesitated then turned to face her. Drops of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He widened his eyes and nodded his head, as if motioning her to get on with it. She smiled uncomfortably.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Fine,” he lied. “Why?”
“Uh…” she stammered. “You just look paler than usual, that’s all, but you don’t look hurt.”
“Huh?” he uttered, confused.
“Well, the fight,” she giggled.
“There’ll be no talking in my class!” boomed the teacher as he spun around to catch the culprits. He was met with silence, and after a pause returned to scribbling on the board.
“Well what happened?” she asked. “I mean only if you feel comfortable telling me. It looks like you must’ve won.” She eyed Rick’s empty desk.
“Oh, that,” he said, causing her hand to fly to her mouth to muffle a giggle. At first he could not understand what was so humorous, but then realized he must have come off a jokester, acting like he did not remember the big fight he had planned with Rick. It had been the talk of the school. What would he tell her? He was almost certain Rick was dead, but he was basing that on the headstone he saw in a vision.
“Well, if you don’t want to tell me I understand.”
“It wasn’t as eventful as you think,” he whispered. “Rick didn’t show.”
“Really?” she said with surprise.
Charlie raised his eyes and nodded his head, “Really.”
“Too bad, he’s such an asshole.”
Am I actually cool to this girl? Crazy Charlie, the freak of Central High is worthy enough of conversation with the hottest girl on campus?
Her stare continued to linger on him, making him feel warm and uncomfortable.
“Why are you staring at me?” he asked.
“Sorry,” she said as she batted her eyes. “You seem so confident all of a sudden.”
Much to his relief the bell rang. He gathered his books, shoved them in his backpack and raced to the door.
“Charlie!” called out the teacher.
Dread immediately filled Charlie, and he wanted to pretend he did not hear the teacher, but he had already stopped at the sound of his name. As he spun around he bumped right into the hot girl. She gazed into his face with bright smiling eyes.
“I’ll see you around, Charlie,” she said. “I’m Jess-”
“Jessica, I know,” he said.
She released a giggle. “You can call me Jess.”
He felt excited, but refused to show anything besides indifference. What’s she up to? Better to play it cool and not get burnt. He wasn’t always the school freak. There was a time when he took better care of himself, had good grades and participated in sports. In fact, he was somewhat popular and he remembers Jessica from the good days. Funny she never really paid him much attention to him until now.
“Charlie, we need to discuss your grades,” said the teacher.
“What about them?”
The teacher smirked incredulously. “You’re failing Charlie and we need to do something about it.”
Charlie gazed down, studying the reflection of the lights from the highly polished floor.
“You need to take this seriously. I’ve discussed your grades with the other teachers and they seem to think you’ll skim by in their classes, but you’re failing math and I may request you be held back all together.”
Charlie snapped his head up and met the teacher’s eyes. The possibility of another torturous year of high school was more than he could bear. In fact, the thought had never even occurred to him.
“Well now that I got your attention, I’m going to suggest tutoring.”
“Okay,” said Charlie.
“I’m willing to help you after school Mondays and Wednesdays, say around four, starting today?”
“For how long?”
“As long as we need, we’ve quite a bit of ground to cover.”
“Uh-”
“Is there a problem, Charlie?”
“Maybe, I have plans on those days.”
“What kind of plans?”
“Well,” he began to fidget, “Some group therapy thing.”
The teacher’s expression brightened. “Well, that’s good news Charlie. Really, I know its hard being a teen and I’m glad you’re getting some help.”
Yeah I need help all right, thought Charlie sarcastically. The look on the teacher's face sickened him to the core. It went from concern mixed with pity to excitement, as if there were hope that the crazy kid had a chance of becoming normal after all. There was nothing wrong with him, and he could not understand why grown-ups wanted to make him feel like he was abnormal. If they could break him, make him believe he was a nut job, they would have control. His visions were a curse, but they were real. He was not crazy and he was not going to be controlled by anyone. Not now, not ever.
“Well, I can tutor you Friday evenings,” said the teacher. “Assuming you’re willing to give up Friday nights for studying.”
Yeah, right! My Fridays consist of watching TV and drinking away the visions. “Sure, school first,” said Charlie.
“Good! I’ll meet you at the library at six o’clock. It closes at five, but the librarian always lets me stay late, as long as I lock-up before I leave.”
“The library?” questioned Charlie as his eyes grew wide.
“Yes,” said the teacher. “You know, the historical looking building filled with books?”
Charlie was too upset to respond. The library was out a ways and he would have to walk by Gravel Hill Cemetery to get there. He wondered if he could take a different route, but the only one he could figure would add at least a half hour to his walk.
“I’ll see you Friday Charlie?” His expression was quizzical.
“Uh…sure.”
He ran his sweaty hands up and down the straps of his backpack, which pulled heavily on his shoulders. Leaving the room hastily, he worried he would not make it to second period on time.
Chapter 6
He quickened his pace through the halls to his next boring class. Some students lingered, and he could feel their questioning eyes fall upon him. Things were different at school now, and he was not sure how he felt about it. No one had insulted him yet, slapped his books out of his hands or pulled down his backpack. True, the bullying had mostly been done by Rick Rose, but Charlie was an open target for everyone. But now, well, now he thought he was feeling fear, not his own, but from the people around him.
This time when he entered the classroom his eyes did not drift to the floor. He was met by curious stares as he ambled to his desk and took his seat.
“Hey,” said the boy next to him.
Charlie faced him and nodded.
“Everything okay?” he asked, and shot him a toothy grin.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So there’s a rumor going around that you…catch this…,” he released a snort, causing his glasses to slide down his nose, which he immediately pushed back into place, “that you murdered Rick Rose, cut up his body and buried it in the old cemetery.”
Charlie chuckled, “I kind of like that one.”
“Yeah, me too. So what’s up with Jessica?”
“Uh, I don’t know.” He looked at his watch and wondered why the bell had not rung.
“This is the first time she’s ever talked to you, right? I mean obviously everyone in school has been talking about it.”
“That was first period Carl, and it’s now second period, seriously.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“So did she ask you out or something?”
Charlie sighed, “No!”
“Oh, okay, no need to get upset. You know guys like you and me, well we don’t get asked out, but it would’ve been cool.”
Charlie was shocked that Carl thought they were alike. The only thing they had in common was being outcasts, and that was not enough for him to want to be his friend.
“So what did Mr. Samson want from period one?” asked Carl as he continued to look at Charlie with annoying bug eyes.
“Oh he wants to tutor me in Math.”
The bell finally rang.
“I can help you if you need help, Charlie.”
“Great,” he said unenthusiastically.
“Hey, I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now if you’d like to come over to my house and ya know, play video games.”
You’ve got to be kidding me!
“Sorry I’m late,” said the teacher as she burst through the door.
Charlie breathed a sigh of relief, because nerds never talked during class, but it was short lived as scattered thoughts popped into his head. He wondered why Jessica was all of a sudden attracted to him. He knew he was good looking, but also a little scruffy. He certainly was not a geek, but definitely an outcast. He wondered what happened to Rick, and while he had a strong feeling he was dead, he was certain he had nothing to do with it, even if a nagging feeling inside told him otherwise. Did people really think he was a murderer? What about his mom, agreeing to take meds without a fight, and the guilt he felt for the sacrifice she had to make just to keep him. She never had time for him, yet panicked at the thought of losing him. Why was she so dependent on him? How was he going to get to the library without passing by the cemetery?
“Charlie?” asked the teacher.
He snapped to attention, and that is when he heard a loud rhythmic rapping. For a moment he wondered from where it was coming, when he looked down and noticed that he had been tapping his pencil against the desk’s edge. He stopped and gazed at the teacher with dead, hollow eyes.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
There it is again, that look of pity mixed with confusion. He gritted his teeth, resisting the urge to tell her to fuck off. “Yeah,” he sneered.
"Well, now that I've got your attention, maybe you can explain the cell cycle to me."
"Oh yeah, cell cycle," said Charlie. "We've been reviewing that for a while haven't we?"
The teacher's eyes narrowed. "Yes we have, and consider this a pop quiz, just for you!"
He could feel his face turn red as his temper began to boil. He wanted to tell her he did not know or even care, but when he opened his mouth, his voice faltered. His head began to spin and he felt trapped behind a glass door, seeing through his eyes, but no longer in control of himself. The teacher's face contorted and her lips flapped wildly, but he could not hear her.
"Well, do you want to know the cycle for prokaryotic cells or eukaryotes?" He finally managed to spit out.
She looked surprised, "The two phases for eukaryotes."
"There's actually four phases, teacher. Phase one is called Gap 0, where the cell stops dividing. Phase two is called synthesis, where the cell grows and DNA replicates. Phase three is called G2, where the cell continues to grow. And finally, that's right boys and girls, phase four, M phase. M is for mitosis, and this is the miracle of life stage because the cell actually divides."
"You think you're smart, don't you!" bellowed the teacher.
"I know I'm smart," he smirked. "So how about it teach, did I get an A?" He stretched his legs out and crossed his ankles. Releasing a lengthy sigh, he folded his arms across his chest and smiled.
“My name is Miss. Chapman, not teach!” The anger in her face was palpable.
Charlie’s head began to spin and he felt like he was going to lose consciousness. He watched the teacher’s lips move as she raged, and he began to hear her words. “You need to show some respect, Charlie!” she yelled.
He felt as if he had just walked into a movie and did not know the plot. As he peered at the teacher, cold chills began to run through his body, and he started to shake.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Fine,” he said as he studied her puzzled expression.
The bell rang and the kids sprang out of their seats and rushed to the door as if trying to escape. But when Charlie rose, Miss. Chapman placed a hand on his shoulder and asked him to stay.
“Look, I’m sorry,” said Charlie. He had no idea what happened, but knew it must’ve been bad.
“I don’t understand you. One moment you’re a shy, unmotivated kid and then the next you’re smug and rude.”
“Sorry, I guess I have a problem with my temper.”
“Is everything okay at home?”
There it is…the look of pity! Even though he was still confused over what had just happened, he could feel his blood pressure rise. “Everything is fine!”
“Okay, but I’m going to have to give you detention this afternoon.”
“Uh, wow, I have to be somewhere at five.” His face turned pale.
“Really, Charlie and where exactly do you have to be?” she retorted.
His eyes drifted to the floor as he ran his fingers through his hair. Being late to AA was not an option. His father would be furious and Charlie worried he would use his behavior as an excuse to deny his mother the support she needed. She was already sacrificing herself for Charlie and he did not want to disappoint her, yet again. The pressure was starting to build and he was beginning to crumble.
“What is it, Charlie” Her eyes were softer.
“I have to be at some group therapy thing. It’s important to my parents.” His eyes remained fixed on the floor. His face flushed as feelings of anger and embarrassment mingled inside of him.
“Oh, I see.” Her harsh tone disappeared. “Well, I was impressed that you knew the cell cycle. At least you’re paying attention in class. I suppose I can let you off this time.”
Cell cycle?
“Thanks Miss. Chapman.” He looked up at her smiling face and turned to leave.
“And Charlie, if this happens again it’ll be a Saturday detention.”
“I understand,” he said, and he raced away.
Chapter 7
He glanced at his watch and hurried to his locker. Kids in the hall turned to stare as he passed by. He could feel their eyes upon him, and the silence that followed his presence made him uncomfortable. An icy sensation crept up his spine as he came to the realization that other kids were not just scared of him, but terrified. As he started to round the corner he heard his name and stopped. Resisting the urge to peek, he strained to hear what was being said, and who was saying it.
“I think he’s kinda creepy,” said a girl with a bubbly voice.
“Yeah, really, like what in the world could Jessica possibly see in him?” said another.
“Well, he’skinda cute, I guess.”
“Sure, if you can get past the sloppy clothes and greasy hair. I mean really, the grunge look is so last decade!”
The girls began to giggle. Charlie recognized them as Jessica’s cheer leader friends.
“But what about the rumor?”
“Yeah, I don’t think Charlie is some ax murderer.”
“Totally ridiculous! I bet Rick got his ass kicked and is afraid to show up at school.”
“Yeah, he probably has a black eye or something.”
The bell rang and the girls broke up to go to their classes. Charlie continued around the corner, nearly bumping into one of them. He looked past her and raced to his locker. He fumbled with the combination, made a quick exchange of books and dashed to his third period class.
Once again he entered the classroom with his head held high. A tickle of excitement rose inside of him as he relished the fear he invoked in most of the other kids. Getting respect was more important than anything else. And while many of the students averted their sights from him, Rick’s buddies still looked him in the face with burning hatred in their eyes.
Charlie took a seat next to a scrawny boy with Jonas brother’s hair and skinny jeans. He could feel his eyes upon him and he finally turned to look. “What’s up?”
“Hey man...So what happened with Rick?”
“Nothing,” he replied flippantly.
“Really?”
“Yeah, he didn’t show.”
He moved in closer and whispered, “Oh, well you know Rick usually walks to school with his buddies.”
Charlie shrugged.
“Well, when they went to get him this morning his parents said he never came home Saturday night. They filed a missing persons report with the police.”
A wave of shock rippled through Charlie’s body, and he could feel it show on his face. He shifted his eyes to the floor. His heart raced, his body became a raging inferno, and sweat began to bead on the back of his neck and around his temples. Guilt’s sharp teeth pierced him to the bone. He hated Rick Rose and was glad he was missing, and as much as he tried to convince himself that he was not responsible, deep down he knew he was somehow involved. But not knowing details of what had happened weighed on him. Contending with lapses in memory was becoming a common occurrence. Slipping in and out of dreamlike states and waking to angry people around him was also taking a toll on his sanity. Certainly he did not want Rick dead, or did he?
“They say you were the last to see him, but if he didn’t show.”
“Yeah Jake, he didn’t show.” Charlie tried hard to remember Saturday night, but it was useless. He decided to stick with his lie, or was it an exaggeration? Whatever it was, it seemed to be working for him.
“You seemed so determined to beat his ass. In fact, you were the one who challenged him. You lucked out.”
“I suppose I did,” said Charlie. “He’s bigger than me.”
“Yeah, so why’d you do it?”
“I guess I snapped. Maybe if I faced him he’d leave me alone.” He wiped at the sweat that trickled down the sides of his face. He wished it would stop, but the more he thought about it the more it gushed.
Jake chuckled, “Yeah, well, someone out there is looking after you.”
The evil that haunts me! It’s having fun with these high school assholes at my expense!
The teacher arrived just before the final bell. Despite being bored out of his mind, Charlie focused on the lecture, determined not to let his mind drift. He was convinced he could control the evil as long as he was alert. It was exhausting, and left him mentally drained, but he had no choice.
When the class finally let out Charlie took his time going to his locker, and then made his way to the cafeteria. Dread began to gnaw at him. His growling stomach quieted as his appetite was replaced with nausea. Standing at the back of the lunch line he began to shift from foot to foot. He pushed his hands into his pockets, removed them, and then dragged his fingers through his hair. He did this several times until he was nudged on the shoulder. Expecting to be pushed to the floor, or maybe even punched, Charlie spun around with his fists up.
“Hey man, chill,” said Carl.
Charlie sighed in relief. “What’d ya sneak up on me for?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he snickered. “I don’t think you need to worry about bullies anymore.”
Charlie shrugged, and then turned back to eye the slop that was being served for lunch. He grabbed a tray and got a glimpse of Jessica in the line ahead. She stepped back to look at him. A smile spread across her cherubic face, and this time Charlie returned the gesture.
“Oh, love is in the air,” said Carl.
“Shut up,” said Charlie. “I wonder what she’s up to.”
Carl grinned from ear to ear. “I’d say she’s a taste for bad boys.”
“But I didn’t do anything.”
“You have…you killed Rick, remember,” he chuckled. “What can impress a girl more than that?” There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” said Charlie as he grabbed a plate of mystery meat from a lunch lady with a hairy mole.
After collecting his lunch he held the tray with a herculean grip, expecting at any moment for someone to flip it out of his hands. But no one bothered him. As he looked for a place to sit he heard his name being called and saw Jake at a table, waving his hand. Charlie sat across from Jake, and to his disappointment, Carl plopped down next to him. His appetite began to return despite the vomit looking blob of food that was lunch. There was a bleep and Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. He hid it beneath the lunch table, leaned back and sniggered.
“What’s so funny?” asked Carl.
“Well, my buddy Steve is sitting at the table next to Tyler and Dean and overheard them talking about Rick.”
“Well?” Carl pressed.
“Well, they’re wondering if Rick really chickened out and didn’t show up today out of embarrassment.”
Carl released a giggle. “All talk and no action, even his buddies know it.”
Charlie remained quiet because he was not so sure.
“What gives?” asked Carl as he nudged Charlie with his elbow.
Charlie hated it when Carl did that, and wished he would stop following him around.
“Oh, I know. He’s in love!” said Carl with a dreamy voice.
“Stop being a dick!” said Charlie.
“Oh you mean Jessica?” asked Jake.
“Rumors spread fast,” said Charlie.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been sitting here watching her stare at the back of your head. Her girlfriends are in an excited little huddle talking about you,” he laughed. “Hey, you think you could set me up with one of her friends? I wouldn’t mind giving one of them a piece of me.”
“Yeah, right,” said Charlie.
“Oh yeah baby you know you want some. Yeah I see you looking at me.” He continued to stare past Charlie. “Oh she’s licking her lips. Daddy wants some, come to daddy.”
“Hey man, I’m trying to eat here!” interrupted Carl.
“Oh shit!” said Jake. His perverted expression morphed into fear.
Charlie turned to look back when he was startled by the sound of his tray jumping as a heavy fist landed next to him on the table.
“I don’t care what the rumors are, you better stay away from her!” boomed Tyler.
“Who?” asked Charlie. He swallowed hard and willed his sweating to stop. Tyler’s lips puckered like an asshole. Saliva spewed from his mouth, and his gruff voice played violently on Charlie’s ear drums. Soon his words were no longer audible. Charlie’s fear melted into pleasure, and he began to smirk as he watched Tyler turn red. “You mean that hot little cheerleader?”
“That’s my girl!” shouted Tyler and he buried his fist into his hand with a loud smack.
“And what’d she want with a cock sucker like you!” sneered Charlie.
Tyler raised his fist and lunged at him. There was a crash as Charlie’s chair fell over, and a metallic scratching sound as the lunch table shifted. Charlie had sprung to his feet, blocked the blow, wrapped his fingers around Tyler’s wrist, and then twisted his arm behind his back. With his free hand, he slammed Tyler’s torso down hard on top the table.
“Don’t fuck with me!” yelled Charlie. “I can take you out in an instant!” Tyler’s feet shuffled frantically as he tried to escape, but Charlie tightened his grip. Tyler’s hand began to turn blotchy.
“Let him go,” said Carl as he looked on with horror.
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