The Demon I Used To Be

Chapter twelve

      I opened my eyes, satisfied by my sleep. It felt superb until the thought of having overslept crossed my mind, adding energy to my awakenedness. I jumped out of bed – the couch – to get my book. I wasn't sure what my plan for that day was. I just didn't want to leave late enough to get noticed by more people.
    My captive's head was on the table. His tied hands were on his lap. His legs were untied, even the cloth on his hands was unnecessary. Asides the fact the he seemed far into dreamland, his limbs were already crippled. I leaned over him, reaching for the book that laid before his face since he faced the other way. I flipped the book open as it rested on my palm then perused.

  '94. Prison Visitation'

    I smirked at what I had written more than three months ago then wondered what I'd have been doing if I hadn't made that list of activities. Every day of those other years, I lived to survive, nothing more. It was more than enough time to build a magnanimous workshop for him – the bad guy.
     I moved over to my heap of clothes and took an ash hoodie and ash trouser set of clothes. Printed in black on the center of the hoodie was 'Player'. As I pulled them out, the rest of the clothes were disarrayed, some fell to the floor. I ignored the mess...and my unconscious Xander as I left the room.

**
   My hands were shoved into the side pockets of the ash trouser as I walked into the town's small police station. Nothing happened on my way there – or at least nothing you should know yet.
    "Good morning miss. How may I help you?", a lady dressed in their grey and black uniform said with a British accent. She had a badge by the breast pocket of her grey shirt.  There were many British people living in that town, our town. Most of them were employees at my dad's factory. The town belonged to the Smiths. Dad owned it; it was his own estate. With the wealth my dad had and by my being the only survivor of his family, I should've lived like a queen all those years and not the wretched psychopath I existed as.
    '...I was expecting you to have met with the family lawyer, before now. There's so much for you to inherit if you're left alone in this world, but you didn't even try to lay your hands on them'
    Those words played like a tape in my mind. Slowly, the whole drama replayed. I realized I had had a dream. When I woke that morning, I'd forgotten, and while I was asleep, the whole thing felt real. I chased the thought of it being a dream from my head with a slight shake of the head. I wanted it to be real. I wanted all of them to be back.
   "I'll be back girlie" I replied then dashed out, and headed to the stream. I ran like they were going to disappear if I didn't get there in time. Luckily, I could still find my way around, from the station.
    It took about fifteen exhausting minutes for me to get there. I could barely catch my breath as I stood and stared around. The path I had walked through with my brother was covered with small trees and tall grasses. Tears filled my eyes and I tucked in my lips to quieten the sob that was about to explode. I recalled the end of the dream. I recalled how, after not seeing Arabella, Alyssa dissipated before me. I remembered how I rushed back to the sitting room and screamed 'dad', but no one answered.
    I dropped on my knees and bowed my head. The sobs I thought I had withheld through sealed lips had turned into roars.
   "Fuck you!", I cursed the dream that reminded me of the people I tried everyday to forget. I regretted immediately; I disappointed Alex a hundredth time. Every sad moment of the last Christmas Eve I celebrated replayed in my head. It was like I was ten again. I wept...bitterly. I tried to squeeze the ground but I could only get moist grass. I remembered the woman...and then Bell. The roar trailed off in whimpers.
    I rose up. I wanted to visit Bell. I went over to the confined body of water to wash my face then heaved a huge sigh. I made my way to the bushy piece of land I used to run around with the guy I leaned on in my dream.
     The man I'd seen there the other day was there again. This time his shirt was light pink. I stared intently at him. He was making gestures with his hand, like he was calculating stuff. I walked up to the man who was lost in his thoughts.
  "Who are you?". It wasn't loud enough to bring him back to reality so I asked again, louder. He jolted at the 'Who'.
   "I've seen you before. I'm Sharon Tyler. You?" He replied. I scanned him: from the dark brown hat that sat on his head to the dark brown boots on his feet.
  "What are doing here?", I asked, cheekily, with a raised eyebrow.
   "Now you listen kid...", he said, raising his hand, with all his finger, but his index, folded, to point at me. " I'm... " he continued. I interrupted with a slap, moving his hand out of the way.
   "You're just some rude kid!" He yelled.
  "Kid? I'm nineteen fella!"
   "Well I have two sons, one your age and one who's older!"
   "And you're mentioning that quite late cause my dad can no longer get married your wife!"
  I raged as I spoke, but he was more enraged. His eyes wear stained red and he perspired tremendously.
   "My wife loves me and even if not, she would never get coupled with the father of a brat"
   "Well my father is not your father mister. And I'm sure your beloved wife would love money more than she loves you!"
   After my last comeback, there was brief silence. "Leave this place right now!", he ordered. I cackled. "Oh Mister Sharon! YOU are the one who would be leaving here"
   He slapped his face and sighed. "I guess I'll just call the police. Besides you're of age to spend a couple of days at the cell", he said then shoved his hand into the left side pocket of his blue baggy jeans. His phone came out with his hand.
    "What would you even say to them?..." I asked. I was going to sputter a lot more rhetorical questions, but I reasoned that I could get a free ride to the station to get done with my visitation. "Well...I should probably call the hospital instead. What do you think?". His eyes were squinted as he spoke and his eyebrows, creased. It was like he sincerely wanted my take on it.
   "You know since you're actually crazy and not criminal; that would be a better option", he added. He was still staring, blankly. After a moment, he shoved the phone back into his pocket. "You're just a sick kid"
     "Are you scared?", I asked. I spoke with as much cockiness as I could then half smiled.
  "Scared?", he snorted, "...of who?"
   "Why didn't you call the police like you said you would?"
   He shook his head then turned back to face the bush. He rubbed his jaw with his thumb and index as he examined the place through squinted eyes. He clearly had something in mind for the land – something dad had never once mentioned. I let out a sigh.
  "Is the land yours?", I asked, trying to appear oblivious of the popular family.
    "No", he replied with a chuckle. " I'm here to do some work for Mr Johnson."
    "Is he the owner?". I took at least five strides closer to the bush to keep my hands busy with the long narrow grasses.
   "Well...now he is. The last time I came here, it belonged to Mr Smith, but he's late now...", he let out a sigh, "... He had a huge house here...", he continued, gesturing towards the pile of ashes. Seeing the ashes tore my heart into tinier bits, but I was no longer in the mood to tear.
    "So how did Mr Johnson become the owner? What does he even want to do here?"
   "You're starting to be nosy, my dear, but I'll tell you anyway. Firstly, Mr Smith died along with every member of his family which left no apparent heir to all his wealth. Lately, I learned there was still someone related to him alive. He's been in charge so far, and he sold this place. Now to Mr. Johnson..."
   I didn't get the rest of his talk. He had already sent my mind sailing by letting me know there was someone else alive. He also referred to whoever it was as a he. My dad had two elder sisters who lived far away and never visited. I got to know on my own – my curiosity was famished. The only other male in the house was my elder brother, the one he had with Julia Smith, his first wife. Although, I also knew Alex couldn't have been selfish enough to give up the land that carried the rest of his family. It had to be someone else. I hoped it was someone else.