The Knowing: Awake in the Dark (19 page)

“No problem, ma’am. We’ll stay until you leave. Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do about the gun if it’s no longer in his possession.”

I quickly gathered our last bag and as I left, I carried tremendous guilt and felt somehow responsible for Aaron’s pain.

In the days and weeks that followed - I was in survival mode - my emotions heavily armored in complete lock down - my every thought monitored to prevent a meltdown. I had a secret that felt like a hot ball of shredded glass that cut me to ribbons whenever I thought about it. I told no one of my rape. Shame and the fear that I got what I deserved sealed my lips.

I stayed with Isla and her husband for a few days but the house was cramped. I quickly secured a job bartending and it was there that my manager offered to help me.

“I have a spare room at my house,” Rick said “and you can move in with the children. I know you need a place to stay.”

Rick was a complete gentleman as though he knew intuitively, what had happened.

I moved in and for three months Rick and I shared his house until Rick bought another property and moved. I rented his place and got a housemate. My longtime friend from middle school, Carmen, moved in with her toddler son and we shared the three- bedroom house. I almost felt free. Aaron would not let go, however, which was what I’d feared when I left him. The stalking began almost immediately.

At first, Aaron began to park adjacent to the restaurant’s parking lot where I worked and wait for me to walk to my car at one or two a.m. He was bold, parking where I could see him watching me. When I didn’t go back to him, his tactics changed.

“Oh my God!” I screamed in the middle of the night sucking in air as my body jerked upright. I’d been awakened from a dead sleep with my heart hammering and an eerie feeling. There was a face peering in my bedroom window. I saw the man clearly before he slipped back into the darkness of the night. It was Aaron. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I tossed and turned glancing constantly at the window afraid he’d come back.
He’s watching me
, I fretted.
He’ll never leave me alone.
Fear rang in my ears
, he’s coming for you.

One night I pulled my car into the driveway, my dashboard clock read 3:05a.m. My lower back ached and I was tired after a busy night at work. A light mist carried on cold air, wet my face as I stepped from my vehicle. From the corner of my eye, I saw someone move at the side of the garage. Adrenalin pounded through me and I hurried to the front door. With quaking hands I unlocked it and slipped inside, shutting off the porch light as I slid to the floor in tears. Frequently, I felt his presence, although I could not see him. I feared he was waiting for me, hiding in the dark.

Instances like these occurred steadily, but mostly at night. Months later, someone intentionally sabotaged my car.

It was Thanksgiving Day and we were driving to my mother’s for turkey dinner. The weather was dreary and overcast with a light rain. I’d just reached the top of a long steady incline and glanced in my rearview mirror at a sleeping Elizabeth strapped in her car seat. Her head fell to the side as though her neck were made of rubber instead of flesh and bone. Her heart shaped lips were parted while she snored lightly in sleep. Raine sat at the opposite end of the seat engrossed with his transformer action figure.

We’d just begun our descent down the other side of the incline. I pressed frequently on my brake so I didn’t gain too much speed. The roads were wet and slick, heavy with holiday traffic. Each time I braked, the pedal went closer to the floor.  Fear pounded adrenalin drummed through my chest. I knew I was in trouble. I gripped the wheel and cut quickly right ignoring the scream of a horn from the truck I’d cut off. I continued over, hitting gravel, pumping furiously on the brake which now fell to the floor without springing back into place. We were heading for a giant tree. I cut the wheel hard to my left to avoid hitting the tree head-on. I grabbed the emergency brake yanking it upward, my foot pressed hard to the floor in vain. I squeezed my eyes shut preparing for impact. The rear of my small car fishtailed in the loose gravel and we stopped abruptly. We’d missed the tree by inches.

Elizabeth woke with a start and let out a wail. Fear bounced around the car like a silent grenade. Raine’s voice squeaked with uncertainty, “Mo-o-mmy, are we alright?”

We walked to a nearby house and called a friend who had the car towed to his garage.  It was later revealed that the brake line had been neatly sliced allowing the fluid to pump out each time I used the brake until, without fluid, the brakes failed.

Aaron was an ace mechanic.

After nearly a year of living in terror, I moved again, this time to a house protected by giant iron gates with a male roommate. In the new house, I began having
pictures
almost immediately. On our first night after putting the children to bed, I fell exhausted across my unmade bed. Closing my eyes, I exhaled pent up breath and enjoyed the feeling of the cool firm mattress against my back. Suddenly the vision began.

There was a lavish party outside.  Guests milled about in stylish clothing in the lower garden. A three-piece string quartet played above the lower garden, among scattered trees adjacent the pool area.  It was early afternoon, the day was mild with a slight breeze. Flowers were in full bloom and surrounded the landscape leaving a sweet scent on the air. A man fidgeting and looking agitated approached a young couple engaged in conversation, slightly separated from the thick of the crowd.

She was dark haired with a playful light in her eye looking young and hopeful.  Her features were sharp but pretty and her nose had a beak-ish angle.

The man beside her was dressed differently from the others, not as polished.  He wore light brown trousers held up with suspenders that looked like something a gardener or groundskeeper would wear; he had a soft cap pulled down over his forehead. He was astonishingly handsome. His jaw was square and masculine. His eyes were a color of blue reminding me of water I’d seen only in dreams.  The two were unaware of anyone else aside from each other and I could feel their mutual attraction like a current between them.  As they continued to talk, the man I’d seen fidgeting, moved in on the couple.  His cheeks were flushed and I felt his anger and jealousy. Sweat was visible on his face and underarms as adrenaline rushed through his body.

I watched in amazement as this man raised his arm, gripping a small handgun, which I had not previously noticed.  He fired the gun and the woman fell. Suddenly silence reigned as heads spun in the direction of the shot. Another shot boomed bringing down her companion. It took only seconds.  Screams rang out disrupting the party and, as mayhem ensued, the uncertainty I felt at what I saw, was overwhelming.

The vision or
pictures
occurred in the first weeks of living in my new residence. I’d met my new roommate at a Mexican restaurant where I worked as a bartender. He was a regular patron. His name was Robert and he’d rented the estate from an investor friend with the promise of cleaning up the property and preparing it for resale.

The estate had been foreclosed on and had fallen into disrepair. Most of the damage was from sheer neglect of the grounds, pool, and sauna and Jacuzzi-housed areas. Robert did the repairs on the pool, Jacuzzi and sauna house and I had several “clean up” parties, where a dozen or so willing participants would come over and clear, clean and manicure the massive grounds. We’d fill giant yellow, dumpsters with yard debris, delivered by the local garbage company. I was able to live in the house very inexpensively.

The estate was tucked securely into the hills of an auspicious California neighborhood, locked behind sturdy iron gates and sprawled across two acres. The main abode contained over three thousand square feet of opulent interior replete with glass block and curved walls. The acreage was contained by red brick walls and had once boasted beautifully landscaped gardens that divided the space.  The large pool was fenced and adjacent to a structure that housed a sauna and large Jacuzzi whose front was completely encased in glass. It was exquisite. Beyond it stood a two-story guest cottage where Robert lived. I occupied the master suite and the children shared an adjacent bedroom in the main house. I worked diligently emptying the boxes containing our possessions.

My bedroom was lavish with a giant brick fireplace and a large walk-in closet fully lined in cedar, which seemed to beckon the awaiting piles of clothing to be hung demurely in its fragrant inner sanctum. I wanted to purchase new clothes that were worthy of such grandeur.  The private bathroom in my master suite sported luxurious marble floors and a sunken tub. The suite finished with French doors made entirely of glass that led to a private garden on the lower patio.   The estate won first place in the 1920s world fair for the house most beyond its time. It was the grandest place I’d ever seen.

Elizabeth was toddling around the room as I unpacked when she pointed her fist toward the closet and whispered, “Yay, yay,” her diaper swish, swish, swishing as she danced from foot to foot pointing incessantly. She continued chattering, intent on the “yay” in the closet.

Finally, I relented and leaned sideways off the bed for a clear view inside.  To my surprise, I saw a young woman hiding among the clothes. The woman was not flesh and blood and I saw her for only a few seconds. She was completely oblivious to us. I leapt from my bed and scooped up Elizabeth and quickly shut the door leaning hard against it in astonishment.

“Holy crap,” I murmured, clutching my baby. “What was that?"

The next day, I found the closet empty. Glimpses of the young woman wandering through the gardens day and night became commonplace for me. I glanced out windows and saw her on the grounds and sometimes walking across the room in the house and a few days later I got
pictures
of the party behind my eyes.
How did everything tie together
?  I wondered.

Confusion and indecision plagued me. I worried about judgment from others if I spoke about what I’d seen, so I was careful to keep quiet about the
pictures
and sightings. A couple of weeks later when I saw Robert working outside, I called to him; “Could you come up to the house later? I just want to run something by you.” 

“Yeah, sure. Lemme finish and take a shower.”

I couldn’t keep my secret any longer, I had to tell.  I was nervous, but after some small talk, I revealed the strange events. Robert sat quietly and listened. He fixed his hooded gray eyes on the wall behind me. When I finished my story he spoke in a voice so quiet I had to strain to listen.

“I see her too.  She comes to me in my dreams.”  He shifted his gaze to me, stroked his beard and continued.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I dream I’m in the Jacuzzi and she comes and asks for my help, she pleads for protection.” He finished and raised his eyebrows in an “I’m crazy too” kind of way.

Robert was ten years my senior and had never spoken to me of anything metaphysical. I was shocked and excited to hear his reply.  Recounting his dreams, Robert said, “It wasn’t long after we moved in that I started having dreams about her. Sometimes I’m in different places around the house or grounds in my dreams, but she always comes. I started to think maybe I’ve been drinking too much or something,” he said rolling ice cubes through the silky scotch in his tumbler.

We talked for a couple of hours making comparisons and feeling relief that we both saw her, although differently. Afterwards, Robert did some research on the background of the property. It was easy to find an old article relating to the murders. The incident was exactly what I had seen in the
pictures
and occurred years earlier. While Robert dug into information about the estate, I decided to call Boots, the psychic my mother had taken us to years before for advice on what to do.

“Well,” she said, “as I listen to you talk, it feels like the woman does not understand that she is dead. She may be looking for a safe place to hide and trying to find her family members.”

“Really? You think she doesn’t know she’s dead?” I asked.

“Yes, it can happen when there is sudden or tragic death. There can be an inability to transition to “the other side.”

“The other side? You mean like heaven?”

“Yes, something like heaven.”

“What can I do?” I asked.

“Surround her in white light, pray and ask for angelic help to assist her in her transition.”

Confused, I asked “What do you mean?”

“Do you believe in angels?”

“Yes, totally.” I said thinking of Maggie.

“Do you know how to meditate?”

“Yes, you taught me when I was fourteen, I still do it sometimes.”

“In the same way you meditate, bring her into your mind’s eye and see her surrounded in white light, while doing this pray and ask the angels to come and help her to transition to the other side. Encourage her to go toward the light, to go with the angels. That should work. If you have trouble, call me back but I feel you can do it. And I’m picking up that you need to ground your energy; it’s all over the place,” she finished.