Incubus

Chapter 9

The day had passed faster than it would have ever being alive. After waking up from his sleep Jude didn't do much other than what he did the day before. He drank, all day. He was in his study, sitting on his reading chair staring at the nothingness in the room. His only companions were his books who stood as witnesses while he drowned himself in tears and liquor. Today he wasn't chaotic, kicking and screaming, today he was broken.

He wore his face with the deepest enervation, his eyes the bearer of an all consuming pain and his body an empty shell with his heart on his hands. In the absence of his hope stood apathy like death on his shoulders. My Jude, my once bright, blissful Jude crushed by the cruelty that is this place.

As the sun began to set he lit the chimney and sat right back down staring at it as the fiery reflection showered his bare skin like and illusive projection. Burn the filth. Burn the filth. Burn the filth. And I finally understood. I know how to get him out of this place, by doing what this house did to me, haunt the hell out of him.

During my time alive in this house I've been deprived of my peace, my sanity has been made a mockery of, and my  life has been perpetrated with the treatment of a rag doll. I was inflicted by an inhuman synergy that presented itself to me shamelessly, and if they never hid from me than so can I with Jude, I just have to make myself present to him like those souls did with me. I tried to focus every spark of energy that is me to make my presence be felt by Jude. I just need a trigger.

I remember the pain I was induced in after my life was snatched from me, leaving me a bodiless conscience full of broken dreams. I remember the anger I was consumed by after understanding all the time that was stolen from me, from the family I couldn't build. I could feel the love that never wavered, my love for Jude. And that was enough to send the electricity through me and into the house, it's walls groaned and floors creaked and I knew that my presence was weighing heavily in this house.

Jude flinched at the sound and just looked around wary as the playful pitter-patter of rain fell against the roof. As I took a step closer to him the house continued to groan. "Jude" —I called, my voice echoing with thunder. He jumped off his chair, he heard me. "Jude" —I called once more, his eyes widen recognizing my voice. "Lamb?" —he called, peeking his head through the door. Oh god, he hears me. I was overwhelmed with joy, I could cry. I exhale in relief, "Jude, turn around" —I instructed, and he did so, this time not hearing it but feeling it. To his surprise I had made a box appear on the floor, the fiery projection playing against it, but this wasn't just any box, it was his box of memories. He shook his head as if he was drunk enough to be imagining things, he wasn't, he's been sipping from the same cup for hours. He approached it and knelt in front of it. As he opened it it was revealed to him my very important something, my little piece of truth. He eyes widen in surprise.

It was a rainy day when I was retching my guts out in the toilet, Jude wasn't in the house. I had been sick for days now and at first I thought it might've been how fast I ingested the food the night before, then I thought it might've been some stomach flu but then the days turned into a week I thought it was something more serious than that.

I took the test while Jude was out. It came in positive. My human mind would never have the capacity to explain the mixture of feelings I went through that very moment. I am pregnant, was all I could think of. I was overwhelmed by flashing feelings inside me, joy and fear, excitement and worry, shock and acceptance.

I was pregnant, I had been for a awhile and I never told Jude because I wasn't planning of staying with him. His change of character terrified me and I just wanted to keep my unborn child safe but seeing that Jude was as much of a victim of this house as me I couldn't go through with it, I couldn't abandon the father of my child in this house to rot. So I decided to stay until I could convince him to leave with me.

I died with my baby inside my womb, helpless and innocent. Now I'll never know if my baby was going to be born into a beautiful girl or a handsome boy, how much space he would've occupied in my arms or what hair color she would've had, I'll never know the things she'll grow to love or the ones he'll grow to hate, what makes her laugh, what makes him cry. What she'll look like when she's 10 or when he's 20, what their voice will sound like. What would have they thought of me? Would have they thought that I'm a good mother? Would have they ever loved me?

I will never know and Jude will never see his child grow inside me.