Death and Stars

Chapter Five

 ‘Aurora. I’m sorry’ was written on a piece of paper next to my dad’s body that Sunday afternoon. He lay bloody on the floor with each wrist cut neatly edge to edge. It seemed strange to me how little I felt on arrival at the scene, my mind had become clear and my soul empty. There was nothing within me but the urge to be separate from what had happened. I sold his house, my apartment, moved cities and spoke of it rarely. But I did hold onto the Safe House, after all, it reminded me of my dad, not what he had done. His death had pushed me to go to church, which was unusual for me. 

I sat at the back of the church under the Virgin in blue cloth and stared at the empty pews before me. After much time not thinking about what I should have been, a young man walked over to me and offered me help. I watched him as he slowly sat down adjusting his long black and white garments, turning to me with a sparkle in his brown eyes he said “What are you here for, Miss?”

I opened my mouth to speak but closed it again on realizing I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Take your time.” He gleamed.

“What happens if you commit suicide?” I asked suddenly. I felt the words expanding in my brain until they pressed hard against my skull.

“It is said you are damned for eternity.” His voice was matter-of-fact but his eyes were unsure.

“What do you say?”

“Know that I am a man of God, and know that no God I worship would ever let a helpless man burn for seeking paradise.”

“I hope so” I said, the young vicar looked at me with concern on his face, so I told him about the recent suicide and the note that had been scribbled. The vicar nodded and stood, just before leaving he turned to me and with a knowing smile said “A man cannot be truly sorry if he hasn’t witnessed the outcome of his fall”

 And though it would take me time to realize the meaning of what he had written, it writhed in me for years; when I first started to feel that headache and that clench in my stomach that would come to be so familiar, and when I brushed shoulders with death and saved those who had also brushed his shoulder, it would swirl in the back of my head, until I knew. I was at home with Chris the night I realised. I was sat on the couch, Chris’ head in my lap, stroking his hair with the tips of my fingers. I felt the strands with a tingle and we watched a film about a dog that saved a drowning child from an aggressive river. I don’t quiet remember the film, the only moment from that evening that isn’t etched into my mind, but I do remember the dog dying in the end. I remember how it made me think about good and bad men. How in reality, though bad men were often prosecuted, it was the good men that fell hardest. It made me think about my dad, which was sudden and felt like the questions were pressing on my chest like a boot on an ant.

I was drawn back into the room by an obstruction in the television light. Chris’ head was in front of me and I watched him stand and wait. His knees bent, arms out slightly, I knew something was wrong. Suddenly the lights flickered creating a crude buzzing in my ears that worked in tandem with the television to bring a blinding shot of pain from my eyes to the back of my head. As the pain felt like a fire slowly tearing away at my brain I realized this was the beginnings of a vision. I rubbed my temples and crouched on the floor breathing deeply to focus away from the pain. I saw figures on the dark side of my eyelids and as they came closer I uttered what Chris’ already knew, demons.

 The splitting of wood and the chill of death in the air. Three abducted vessels, three damned souls. They stood before Chris and me, smiling with a rage that satisfied them. As the biggest opened his mouth to speak I felt as though I was beginning to see several things at once. Chris tapped his middle finger onto his thumb; I saw the hose to the main water pipe, the demons forced Chris to the wall with a slight movement of the hand and as they did I sent a watery hell of water upon them. The main water pipe had been fitted with a crucifix, the holy water sprayed from a hose and burned them like acid to mortals. Chris was released from the paranormal grip and with aggressive poise threw salt into a circle around the demons. The pure element trapped the most tainted of demons. They broke into laughter one by one, the leader first and with unspoken reassurance, the others laughed also. I could feel Chris stiffen his hard fist around an iron bar and his radiating anger penetrated the film of anxiety that surrounded me. 

“What are you doing here?” Chris asked with a pause between each word that stabbed at the space between us and certain death. The biggest of the three, a masculine African American vessel, stepped forward and said “We’re here for the girl.” It was a statement that indicated they intended on getting what they had come for. Chris turned to me, just for a second, and I knew he wondered if I knew. “What?” was all I could mutter.

“We’re here for the girl.” One of the lesser demons sighed, clearly disinterested in this unneeded banter.

“Why?” Chris growled raising the iron bar and slashing the face of the uninterested demon. I pulled him back and warned him with my eyes.

“There’s a person in there, don’t hurt them.” I said quietly, he nodded, begrudgingly.

“Andrius sent us. He was a…friend of your father. He has recently become aware of your talents and wishes to use them for his own gain. At your will of course, but we can make other arrangements if you push us.” He leaned forward pressing on the invisible veil of chemicals that kept me and Chris safe.

Chris threw the iron bar onto the floor with a clang and ran his finger through his hair viciously.

“What does he think he can use them for?”

“You can see into the future, what’s not to gain? You stay within our circle, you see what our future holds.”

“What is it you’re hoping to see?” I asked without wanting to know the answer.

“Heaven. We want heaven, and in reality, you are our only means to see it.”

“I can’t just choose what I see.” I shouted, though I sounded pathetic. I heard Chris laughing to himself, I turned to him.

“You think you can take over heaven? They will melt your blackened souls before you make a single plan. They know everything.” He sneered. I had taken a seat on the old armchair Chris has smuggled into our humble abode. I held my head in my hands and listened to the Demons chuckled wash over every idea crashing in my mind. The storm slowed to reveal one clear memory.

“Does Andrius know why my father killed himself?” I asked on arrival of this memory. They exchanged glances.

“He took his life to get out of the contract he had made with Andrius. Your father tried to kill Andrius once, and to save himself from a long and painful death, your father promised his soul. But, your father, being the coward he is, took his fate into his own hands so Andrius can no longer have his soul. You are the next best thing.” The leader sighed, with a sarcastic frown. I remembered the priest from that visit to the church so many years ago. I remembered the paper and scrawl of an apology. My dad did see his fall, in his mind he had mauled over the consequences, and he knew. He knew he had fallen and pulled me down with him.