Experiment in Terror 05 On Demon Wings (26 page)

like that.

I took in another breath and then got up to start the day.

~~~

I was a flaming pile of nerves when I parked Put-Put outside

the store and walked in through the glass doors. Even

though it was the busy lunch-hour rush, I stil felt like

everyone was staring at me, whispering to each other “hey

it’s that girl who went postal.” Of course, no one noticed me

and I didn’t see any of the regulars who would have thought

such a thing. Being in regular clothes and not a uniform

helped.

But there was no hiding from Ash or Juan, a student from

Columbia with whom I’d worked only a few times. I gave

them both a smal smile as I awkwardly made my way

behind the counter. They were busy trying to handle the

customers so they couldn’t real y talk to me but I preferred it

that way. The less that was said, the better.

I observed Ash’s face. It was warm and casual, like it

usual y was, but there was something different about the

way he was looking at me. He looked at me like I was

about to lose my nut again, watched me like a caged

monkey in a zoo. My mother had watched me like that

earlier as I made myself runny oatmeal. I should have

figured Ash would change once he saw the “real” me. He

hadn’t once cal ed or texted me to see if I was doing OK.

It stung but I tried to shrug it off and made my way to the

back door, eyeing the bathroom as I went past, my nostrils

flaring at the smel that was stil present, that now evil and

foreboding scent of death.

I heard Shay’s muffled voice say “Come in” after I

knocked, and I opened the door with anxious hands and

stepped into the room.

She was unpacking a box of coffee that had just been

delivered, bags of beans tucked haphazardly under her

arms, and looked up at me with her dark hair fal ing in front

of her face.

“Perry,” she said, straightening up awkwardly. “Hi, come

in, have a seat.”

She gestured to the one folding chair and desk we had

in the room.

I went and sat down as she shoved the bags on the

shelves and wiped her hands on her apron.

“You seem much better.” She looked me over

appraisingly as she perched her butt on the corner of the

desk.

That wasn’t true. My face had taken on this gaunt look

since I wasn’t eating much, and the hol ows under my eyes

made me look like a walking skeleton. For once I didn’t

give two shits about the weight loss.

But I knew she was trying to be nice and instead of

refuting the compliment, I thanked her and then waited with

bated breath for whatever was coming next.

It came first with a kindly smile, the type a mother gives

to her crying daughter when she can’t have the Barbie she

so desperately wants. Then came the drawn out,

melancholy-inflicted, “Perry, we real y like you here,” and

then it went into a whole humiliating spiel about company

needs, my performance, my il ness and the bottom line.

Which was money. It was always money.

I just sat there, numb to it, and numb to everything.

I was being fired.

Again.

This time because I just wasn’t normal enough for them.

That’s not exactly what she said, but that was pretty much

what she meant. Especial y when Shay brought up what

Ash had told her. Apparently, he had stopped keeping his

mouth shut about my little headaches, cramps and dizzy

spel s since I’d started. That was al out in the open now,

cementing the idea that this wasn’t just a one-time incident,

that this was what I was made of and that I, Perry Palomino,

would always be a problem.

And how could I argue with that? I didn’t even try. I didn’t

know what I could say because I didn’t know myself. It

certainly seemed like for the rest of my life, I was never

going to be normal. I would never have normal friends or

hold a normal job, because someone, somewhere decided

I was going to be a focal point for the afterlife. It wasn’t even

a flaw I could talk openly about. I couldn’t go into future job

interviews and say, “Wel , my worst quality is that I’m often

haunted by ghosts. That and procrastination.”

I was numb until Shay was done talking. She looked at

me with enough guilt in her eyes to say that she didn’t like

the hand she was dealt either, and that was enough to start

the water works.

The tears fel out of my eyes, hot and fast, streaming

down my cheeks in mascara-ridden rivers. It was al too

much.

Too, too much.

Sleeping with Dex, then being spurned by him (my best

friend, the man I’d loved!) and having to cut him out of my

life, the loss of friends and the show, the loss of my

purpose, the depression that fol owed, the pains that

plagued me, the bloody miscarriage, Abby fol owing me

here, ghosts terrorizing me, getting involved with Maximus,

having my parents threaten me with more psychiatric

treatment, thinking a demon wanted to possess my very

soul.

And now this. I was fired from a fucking coffee shop, of

al places, for something that wasn’t my fault and would

never be my fault, yet I was tethered to it like a dog on a

short chain. No matter how hard I barked and growled and

tried to run, I was choked back, chained for life, and would

never
ever
be free.

I was only 23 years old. I never did anybody any harm.

Why me?

WHY ME?

“I don’t deserve any of this!” I spat out in an ugly, wet cry.

I succumbed to convulsions and the feeling of drowning that

only came with hysterical, throat-tearing bawling. I could

sense Shay was stil there, with no idea what to do or what

to say, but I felt alone in my grief, this terrible, debilitating

grief that erupted out of my mouth like a dying scream. I dug

my nails into head hard enough to draw blood and rocked

back and forth on my seat until I heard one word out of

Shay’s mouth.

It was faint and faraway and I couldn’t see anything but

stars against wet blackness.

“Doctor.”

I snapped my head up and tried to see her through the

haze, the smears of tears and makeup, the hair that clung

to the dampness of my face.

“W-what?” I asked in between raspy gulps of air.

“I think you need a doctor,” she said. “I’m going to cal

someone.”

She walked over to the office phone but I reached out

and grabbed her by the wrist. It wasn’t rough but the

surprise, and a bit of fear, showed on her face.

“No,” I stammered, trying to find my breath. “Please.

Please, no doctors. You just…you have to understand. You

have no idea what I’m going through.”

She gave me a sad smile and let her arm drop.

“I know I don’t, Perry. I real y wish you the best of luck.

You’re a very likeable girl, we al like you, especial y Ash.

But you shouldn’t be worried about working or keeping a

job. You’re not wel and you need to work on yourself.”

“It won’t do me any good,” I muttered. I sniffed the snot

up my nose and wiped my tears away with my hands.

“Promise me you’l try,” she said. She raised her hand

as if she were to pat me on the back or shoulder but she

hesitated and cleared her throat awkwardly instead. “I’ve

real y got to get back to stacking.”

I nodded dumbly, feeling useless, rejected.

Unreliable.

Unwanted.

Unloveable.

She continued to make smal talk about my last

paycheck and saying goodbye to Ash and Juan and

something about keeping the uniform if I wanted but it was

al in one ear and out the other. None of it meant anything to

me.

I just turned and walked out the back of the store, into the

cloud-laden day that felt as heavy as my heart, leaving

another attempt at a normal life behind me.

~~~

“Perry, what’s wrong?” my mother cal ed out as I streamed

past her on the staircase and went straight for the

bathroom. It was the only room with a lock.

“Nothing,” I cried out through the door, even though I

knew she saw my tear-smeared face and could hear the

hoarseness of my throat.

I heard her turn and come up the stairs, pausing outside

the bathroom. She was silent but you always felt the

presence of your mother. She was listening, trying to piece

together just how damaged I was.

I sighed and sniffled as she rapped softly on the door.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I said nothing!” I shot back, glaring at the door and

imagining her face on the other side. My patience was

gone. “I just want to be alone.”

“Wel , al right, pumpkin.”

Pause.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Don’t do anything stupid? What the hel did she think I

was going to do?

“I’m going to take a bath, mother!” I sneered. I wasn’t

planning on it but one glance at the tub, and I imagined

floating away in a bed of hot bubbles - and it seemed like

the only thing worth doing. While I was in here, with the door

locked, no one could hurt me. I could be alone. And I alone

could agonize over what I was going to do with myself.

She didn’t say anything to that and while I walked over

and ran the taps, I felt her leave the door and go

somewhere else in the house.

I exhaled loudly and then stripped off al my clothes,

piling them on the floor. I was glad Ada was at school and I

could hog our bathroom without her pounding on the door

and demanding I get out. Though lately, Ada was trying her

best
not
to annoy me. After everything we’d gone through

together, me being the messed up teenager, her being the

fussed-over perfect child, she was stil on my side. She

cared. She real y did.

That’s something, right?
I thought to myself. It
was

something but my ability to care about nice things and

make myself feel better was put on hold indefinitely.

I grabbed a bottle of lavender-scented body wash and

poured it into the hot running water in little spurts, until the

tub was fil ed with a calming, glinting, froth. When it was just

hot and ful enough, I shut it off and stuck my foot in. It was a

little too hot but I was in a masochistic mood.

Lowering myself in, I took in a few deep breaths, happily

distracted by the scorching water that was turning my skin a

bright pink. I took it slow and soon I was submerged in

floating numbness. I rested my head against the cool tiles

behind me and closed my eyes.

I was trying to focus on nothing at al ; I just wanted empty

spaces and empty thoughts. I wanted to not exist for a little

while. But I couldn’t turn off my brain, which was running

around at breakneck speed and tripping over itself. I was

bombarded with images, the scenes of what had happened

with Shay. Then what had happened when I was fired from

my last job at Al ingham and Associates. And then it was

finding out my col ege boyfriend, Mason, had cheated on

me, fol owed by just about everything to do with high school.

The girls who cal ed me fat, the boys that laughed at me,

the teachers who were afraid of me. The nicknames I had.

The number of times I ate alone in the library, sneaking in

chips past the librarians when they were busy. I saw

Jacob’s face before he died. I saw Jacob’s face after he

died. I saw the way he haunted me, the way he warned me

about the other side. I saw Dr. Freedman’s calmly

disbelieving face as I told him the truth of what happened.

Then, abruptly, I saw faces I didn’t recognize. Random

people, old and young, white and black; the only thing they

had in common was a look of terror. Their mouths flew

open, saying – screaming – something I couldn’t hear and

they whirled past me in a vision of haunting realism, ten,

then hundreds, then thousands until there was nothing

behind my closed eyes except blackness.

And one singular face in the darkness that started out as

a blurry speck and came closer and closer, the edges of

cheekbones bleeding out like black oil against deep

space. A grin as welcoming as a rusted rake. Eyes that

swarmed with red hurricane clouds.

This face of a monster was laughing, silently.

At me.

And I couldn’t breathe.

Warm liquid pierced my nostrils. My nose had dipped