For Keeps

28. How to do an exorcism.

{Cary}

<exorcism how to>

<use Jesus name>

<say Jesus is Lord>

<nothing else owns you>

<nothing else gets to speak or act>

<find the back door>

<what let it in>

<ask Jesus to show Jon maybe>

<like a big hurt>

<unforgiveness/bitterness>

<making a vow>

<doing a wrong thing>

<or it can pass from parents>

<you need to pull the rug out>

<no more back door>

<so say sorry or forgive and release or take back the vow>

<out loud so it can hear>

<ask Jesus to kick it out>

<CALL ME>

{Kurt}

Cary Douglas was a hell of a slow texter. Kurt's phone buzzed intermittently against his leg for the next half hour while he drove, eyes aching as he scanned the horizon in the rearview for sunrise. All he'd been able to read before Jon/the thing that was riding behind Jon's eyes kicked the phone out of his hand was: <use Jesus name> and he'd had to make the rest up as he went.

After hours of driving, the interior of the car was warm as blood and smelled like coffee and Skittles. Jon had stripped off his coat and was using it as a pillow to sleep against the door. His boots were off, his sock feet tucked under him on the seat. He still shivered occasionally, hugging his arms around himself, the cuffs of his hoodie pulled over his hands.

Faint singing came from the shelter of Jon's hood and comforted Kurt. Jon had plugged his ears full of what Kurt guessed was Jesus-y music, or his partner would have asked Kurt to put it on his phone. Music felt safe--way safer than whatever voice Jon had been hearing in the back of his mind all his damn life, saying he should die.

They were off the divided highway; two wide lanes were available now plus a shoulder and a grassy ditch on either side of the road. Kurt pulled out his phone, holding it against the wheel to glance over Cary's texts as he drove.

"Fuck me. It's the 12 steps," he said to himself. He tucked it under his leg again to think. In AA, holding on to resentment was a big open door to use again; so was refusing to own your own shit. The first step to any kind of freedom from addiction was admitting you were powerless and turning to a higher power for help.

And everyone knew shit got passed to them from their parents; many of the people in Kurt's group were second and third generation alcoholics, including Kurt himself.

He didn't know what he'd expected in response to his desperate long shot of a text, but this practical step by step removal of access points was not it. He was a little disappointed not to have to collect herbs and light candles to make a spell.

Cary picked up on the first ring. "Kurt," he said evenly. "You safe?"

Kurt exhaled. "Yeah." He pitched his voice quiet, glancing at Jon. "Still on the road to Jasper. Jon's asleep."

"There's blood all over my counter," Cary said. "And a knife on the floor. Know anything about that?"

Kurt made a small noise. "Um. So Jon is not--himself. Exactly? He said he went to make a snack and freaked himself out? He said the knife bit him. And then he--kinda took that back. Because it sounds crazy, obviously. But then when I asked him about this night, and the nightmares he has on this week..."