Talking.
Wheels rolling on tiles.
Not here, but somewhere close by. Beyond walls.
I’m breathing. My heart beats. I’m lying down, on something soft.
Where am I?
I draw in a long breath and slightly open my eyes. It's bright. Bright and white. White. The chapel!
I sit upright, eyes wide. The brightness burns my retinas, but fuck that, I need to get… out…
No, this isn’t the chapel. There’s no gold, no red velvet. Instead, the only other colors besides white are teal, metallic gray and a warm, dark brown.
Teal is the tiled floor, and the metal is from the bars along the bed I’m on. The brown comes from the wooden table across the room. The hospital room.
I lie back down. The sheets and mattress are soft and smell clean. I suppose a hospital room like this is one of the better unfamiliar places to wake up in.
So… why am I in a hospital? I haven't been sick… or, no, I was sick, but I got bett… no, that’s not it either. I was never sick, it was just an illusion. Illusion… is this another illusion? No, I don't want any more illusions! I just… I just want to be okay, back to normal, like I used to be before all of this.
“J...J-Jo…” I try, but my jaws are still lazy. Whatever, she gets what I mean. “Are… y-you th...there?”
No response. But she could just be ignoring me…
The door of the room opens, loudly enough to make me lose my train of thought for a while. A woman enters. Dark skin, white and teal clothes… a nurse’s clothes?
“Good evening. Are you alright?” she asks, just a tad slower than people usually say that.
“I…”
Well, am I alright?
“I’m… not sure.” I sit up. “Why am I here?”
“You're recovering from an exorcism.”
Exorcism? I know I was going to perform one, but I never actually managed to do it, and then I was taken by the cops and… weird shit happened.
I check my left hand. The palm is bandaged. I guess they saw the wounds and did that. I wonder what they thought the word 'exorcism' meant…
“You were possessed by a malicious face-bearer,” the nurse continues. “It was taken out of you. You're free of it now.”
Taken out…?
No. My luck isn’t that good. There’s some catch here. This is just Joanna trying to fool me into thinking I’m safe so that I’ll put my guard down.
“My name is…” She tells me her name, but I immediately forget it. “I’m your nurse. Can I help you in any way?”
“Sure… can you tell me what happened in more detail?” Not that I could trust any of it, though…
“I’m sorry. I only know what I just told you. But I can get you someone who knows more.”
“Do that, please.”
“Alright. Is there anything else you need? Water? Food? Bathroom?”
“No, just… do that thing you offered.”
She nods and walks off.
Well, if this is an illusion, Joanna’s at least paying attention to detail. That clock on the wall - quarter past eight - is ticking at a consistent pace, and there’s a security camera near the ceiling. Its lens is pointed just a little bit away from me. Then there’s a window mostly covered by blinds. Orange light is shining through and casting down onto the floor in a striped pattern. Sun’s gotta be setting. Or rising, if a full night happened to pass while I was out. Just thinking about that makes me disoriented.
Either way, this whole room seems pretty real to me. But so did all that happened in the chapel. Did I just not check? I was pretty distracted.
I lift my shirt and check my skin. No wound. Well, my old scars are still there, but there’s no huge one going right down the middle is what I’m saying.
Still, if this is just Joanna tricking me again, how can I prove that? Take another hostage? This time I’d know not to take the knife away. But if Joanna’s good enough to make this room, she’d be good enough to make a fake person or mask someone approaching. There’s no way to win…
The door opens again. May as well treat this as real for the time being and see where it goes.
Three people enter - the nurse from before, some guy I don’t know in a white coat, a cop and oh for fuck’s sake why does Samson have to be here.
“Thank you for coming,” the nurse murmurs to Samson, who gives a smile while stepping through the frame. He still has that Arukeist necklace on. Does he ever take it off?
“Good evening, Mr Akai,” says the stranger in white. He’s got glasses and short dark hair, and I’m no detective, but I’m pretty sure that coat is a doctor’s. “I’m Dr Satou. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I say with caution. “What happened to me?”
The officer takes over with his gruff voice. “You were suspected to be under malicious possession, by Mr Samson here,” he explains with a nod to the Arukeist, “and that suspicion turned out to be correct. You were detained and brought here, to the hospital, where an exorcism was performed with the help of Mr Samson with you restrained. You lost consciousness towards the end. After the exorcism, they patched you up, and since then, you've been here.”
“It’s not out of the ordinary to lose consciousness during an exorcism,” the doctor adds. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
I… see. Samson realized I was possessed. That’s why he followed me. Didn’t expect him to have experience in exorcisms, though...
Wait. Exorcisms can be non-fatal. Did they get Joanna out? Have they talked to her? Oh Gods. If they have, it's jail for me.
“What happened to the ghost?” I ask, trying my best not to let the distress show. I glance at the officer. He doesn’t seem to react.
Samson’s smile droops. The doctor shuffles aside to let him take front stage. Okay, what’s he gonna say?
“We… attempted a non-lethal exorcism,” he sighs, “but due to unexpected complications, the face-bearer didn’t survive.”
Really?
“Have you seen what’s on your left wrist?” he asks.
I look, though I already know what’s there. The scars of the aura nullifier. They’re almost healed by now, only visible as brown impressions. My teeth clench. People shouldn’t see these seals, they’ll get interested… but I guess I had no way to prevent it this time.
Now what do I do? Do I play dumb? Do I play dumb about this whole thing, just say I don’t remember - save for a few snapshots, to allow myself some leeway? I think that may be the best strategy for now… I can always say I’ve remembered more later on.
Samson saves me the trouble of asking what it is. “It was there when you were caught, bandaged up,” he says. “One of the nurses suggested that could have been what made the exorcism unusually difficult and ultimately caused it to go fatal. She said it resembled some… tariganist symbols she’d seen and another speculated that the face-bearer carved it themselves to resist any possible exorcisms.” He spoke ‘tariganist’ with a hushed voice. Yeah, I’ll bet. He is an Arukeist, after all. Though I have to say I’m offended by the implication. Tariganists are just tryhards.
Samson then stares directly into my eyes. “Do you know anything about that symbol?”
The officer raises his brow, interested.
I return the stare, unflinching. “No. I’m sorry.”
Samson’s expression softens with a smile while the officer’s face relaxes. “Hey, no need to apologize,” the Arukeist says. “I’m just glad you’re okay now.”
Why does he care so much about some random kid like me? I've been nothing but an asshole to him, and he has no guarantee that was all just because of possession. And he seems genuinely upset by the death of the ghost. One would think that unusual for an exorcist, but I guess he's some kind of non-fatal-exorcisms-only type of guy.
Speaking of the ghost, I'm still not convinced she's really gone. I've been tricked too many times before. At least this time I'd like to see it coming.
“Could I be alone for a while?” I ask. If I’m alone, I can think without distractions.
“Of course,” says the doctor.
“A while,” interjects the police. “After that, we’ve got to head to the station.”
Right. The station. Even if they don’t know about Michi and Joanna, I did put a knife to Samson’s neck and say I was gonna kill him, which is surely a crime. I glance at Samson. He smiles. Even though I almost slit his throat today. What a weird guy.
“...Yeah, that’s fine,” I say. I can probably come up with a plan in time for the interrogation. I mean, I might already have one - just say I don’t remember anything. I’ll see if I come up with anything on top of that.
“Alright, then. We’ll leave you be.” The doctor and the officer exit the room, and Samson follows, though not before giving me a nod.
The nurse steps closer. “If you need anything, there’s a red button next to your bed you can press to call a nurse,” she says. I look to my right and notice the promised red button on a module attached to the bed. “Do you see it?”
“Yeah, I see it.”
“Good. Don’t be shy about pressing it.”
“Gotcha.”
She nods and leaves. The room has become empty save for me. And the presence of the security camera I can't ignore.
I gotta give it to you, Joanna, if you’re there. This is a very impressive ruse. Take it from a professional schemer. I just don’t know where you’re going with it. If you can make illusions this detailed and you’ve found a way to circumvent my reality-sense… you can pretty much make me do anything by crafting the right situation for it. But you haven’t made me speak aloud my secrets. Or have you? Are you actually able to take over my body? Have you done so and just cast me into a fake world inside my brain while you spill each and every bean in the real world? And then when you’re finally gouged out of me in the real exorcism, this world will just collapse and I’ll find myself somewhere completely different?
Collapse… it could happen at any moment. At any moment, I could see the truth. Realize my life is over. This anxiety is infernal. But if I’m doomed nonetheless, should I just kick back and try to enjoy my last moments as a free man?
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
I watch the clock tick. Tick, tick, tick. It just keeps ticking. How slow could she be? Or how cruel?
Or, maybe… this really is reality.
Wouldn’t that be something.
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Thirty minutes passed. I decided to use it as planned, thinking over all that had happened and what I should say about it. I stuck with the ‘I don’t remember’ idea, and after the police came in and took me to the station, that’s what I told them. I did, however, conveniently remember a few details - only vaguely, of course - that pointed in the direction of me having acted out of fear and the belief I had to do what I did in order to survive. It’s technically not false when I put it like that, you know.
They didn’t ask anything about Michi or Joanna. They only asked me about what happened with the possession. I was extremely relieved, but tried not to let it show. After the interrogation, they told me what I should expect next. Apparently, I could go home, just like that. Some law - some wonderful, wonderful law - prevents keeping possession victims detained before trial. Something about needing to be able to go home in order to recover from the trauma, and crimes committed under possession usually being considered the ghost’s fault anyway before further investigation. They did say, however, that I can’t leave the county, and that if I commit another crime during this period, Gods help me. I also need to show up to court when the time comes, or again, Gods help me.
Adhering to the terms wasn’t a hard promise to make. I’ve got no plans of going vacationing, and if I do need to commit a crime or two, I’ll just do what I’ve always done and have no one find out. A crime is really a crime only when you get caught, after all. As for court, the biggest threat to that is simply forgetting. I’ll have to arrange myself a reminder when the letter comes and I find out the date.
I asked them what would happen after court. Depends on the verdict, they said. There’s such a big room for interpretation that I could walk out like nothing had happened at all or spend up to ten years in prison. Ten years. That’s a hell of a long time for just wiggling a knife about. Abe could actually have gotten laid during that time.
As one last thing, I was also told that I would have to undergo psychological evaluation, for reasons both medical and judicial. I decided not to tell them about my visits to Dr Marsh given my suspicious behavior there and hoped to hell they'd pick someone other than her. I gave them our landline’s number as asked, and they said that the local mental health clinic would be in touch with me.
Then I was free to go. That was about a minute ago, and since then I’ve been making my way to the lobby. Once I arrive there, I notice Abe on one of the chairs, and he notices me. He gets up immediately and runs up to me.
“Red!” he exclaimes. “A-are you okay?”
“I'm okay, yeah,” I say.
“I'm sorry that I couldn’t be at the hospital,” he says. “I wasn't around my phone for a while and it was on mute and it took time to catch the bus and then they’d already taken you here and --”
“It's fine, I don't mind.”
It's clear that he does, though, given that panicked justification and his reddened eyes. I don't know why he cares so much. I’m a pretty shit brother, all things considered, and he's only had me for a couple of years. Not to mention I actually threatened him with a knife just a few hours ago. I should probably apologize for that at some point. Get back his trust in case any was lost.
“So… what happened?” he asks. “They said something about a possession? And exorcism? Why would a ghost want to possess you?”
I tell him the same thing I told the cops. “Beats me. I don't know when it got into me. My memories are hazy, anyway…”
“But it's gone now, right? It's over?”
A freezing chill grips my core. If only it was that simple.
“Yeah.”
“That's good, that's good…”
Neither of us says anything for a while.
I guess I could do that apology thing now.
“Listen…” I start. His eyes meet mine again. “When I left home… I don't remember fully, like I said, but…”
As he realizes what I mean, he looks away quickly. “Y-you mean when you… had the knife and you told me not to tell anyone you were there or… you'd…” His fingers grip his arms tighter.
“Yeah. That, I guess.” I sigh. “I'm sorry. I don't know what exactly I was seeing or thinking then, but I do remember feeling really helpless and cornered. That must have made me act the way I did.”
“I see...” His eyes wander the room for a while. Then he focuses on the bandages of my left hand. “What happened to your hand?”
“Oh, that.” I consider removing the bandages to check out the wounds, but that’s probably not smart. “They think I carved the word ‘exorcism’ onto my palm to help myself remember what I needed.” A brief smirk forms on my face. “Pretty clever, huh?”
“That must’ve hurt...”
Hmh. I guess he would focus on that. “Well, I don’t remember.”
His gaze finds its way back to my face. “So… what happens now? Are you free to go?”
I give him a brief summary of what the cops said that happened and what’s going to happen going forward. He covers his mouth when I tell him about the whole ‘attempted murder’ part.
“Oh, wow,” he breathes. “S-so did… did the guy get hurt?”
Oh, Abe, always such a goody-two-shoes. “Nah. Save for feelings, maybe.”
“Good...”
Another silence arises. He seems deep in thought.
“We should head home,” I start, reclaiming his attention. “It’s getting late, and Minty...”
The… animal. I haven’t thought of… it since that last memory I had before blacking out. I was dying, or thought I was dying. I thought of the animal…
No, I shouldn’t dwell on that right now. Especially not with Abe around.
“Minty needs to be fed,” I continue. “And also… Isaac probably wants to know what’s happened to me and if I’m fine. You should call him and let him know everything’s alright.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he sighs. “I’ll call him once I’ve gotten us a cab.”
He takes out his phone, but instead of pushing buttons, he freezes.
“...What is it?” I ask.
“I…” He shifts positions, never finding a comfortable one. “I was just wondering...” He closes his eyes and forces out what he has to say. “Do you need a hug?”
Do I need… “No?”
“O-okay. Just making sure.”
“Okay.”
“Well, a-alright.” He dares one quick glance at my face, then punches in the number of the cab service and raises the phone up to his ear. We both wait for them to pick up, and once they do, Abe orders a ride. After that’s done, he calls his dad right away, and I sink to my thoughts to the tune of him trying to explain what’s happened to me today.
Man. I am tired. I’m gonna be sleeping like a log tonight. But I should still try to get up as usual tomorrow. I still have some work to do while I’m still free.
----------------------------------------
Ngh… who turned on the lights? Abe? The police? Oh, Gods, if it’s the police, I gotta open my eyes quick and --
Empty?
This room is empty. No tables, no chairs, not even a window, and… where’s the door?
I sit up and survey the milky white room, but no, I can’t see a door anywhere. But that’s not right. If there’s no door, how does anyone leave? Or enter, for that matter?
And… what am I wearing? A white hospital gown? Why are there… belts on it?
Okay, this is really weird. I don’t like this at all. Somebody better explain this to me and quick.
Maybe… maybe something happened while I was asleep? Something that got me put into this room? Actually, ‘room’ is too generous - this is basically a cube. Just a white cube with nothing but this bed. Clearly not the same kind of bed as the one in my old room, either. This one’s mattress is less soft. You’d think someone required to spend time in this cube could use all the luxury they could get.
I push the thin blanket off myself and put my feet on the floor. It’s cold, even through the socks I’m wearing. I don’t think those are mine, either.
A whirr? It’s loud. One of the walls is moving, scrolling up. It slowly reveals what this cube connects to, that being a hallway it flanks. The hallway is covered in dark gray tiles for its whole visible length, save for the door embedded in the wall across from me.
The whirring stops with a clank, the wall fully raised. Silence returns.
Can I… leave? Are they indirectly telling me to leave? Well, that’s fine by me, it’s not like I want to stay. This place is just creepy.
I head for the hallway with a brisk pace. I wonder where it le-
Fuck!
Oh, that’s really funny. That’s really funny that you’d put a glass wall there.
I rub my poor aching face and step back. A faint grease smear now floats in front of me. At least I’ll be able to tell where the wall is now.
Steps. Someone’s coming. I’m guessing from the hallway.
A brief wait proves me right. Three humans emerge, one male and two female. Each has a long coat, a headpiece, gloves, a mask and a notepad, all of the items white. The woman on the left seems to have no right ear.
They stop in front of my cube and turn to me.
“Uhh… what’s going on?” I ask.
“Nothing,” answers the man, his voice muffled by the mask over his mouth and nose. “Go back to what you were doing.”
What…? No, I want answers!
I lean on the glass. “Why am I here? What is this place?” Oh Gods, don’t tell me... “Am I quarantined?”
“Not in the traditional sense of the word, no,” the man replies and writes something down.
“...What’s that supposed to mean?”
This time the woman on the right responds. “You carry no pathogen or radiation, but you are being contained for the safety of others.”
No pathogen or radiation… “You think I might do something dangerous?”
“You already have,” she says and gestures to her female colleague, the one with the missing ear. “Just look at Nurse Hayashi.”
I glance back and forth between the two. “Elaborate?”
“You tore off her ear.”
“...No, no I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. Don’t you remember? You were yelling and snarling the whole time, too, about how you were some kind of ‘priest’ who was going to bring about the end of the world.”
Fuck, they know about my priesthood? Could it be that what they’re saying… actually happened, but I just don’t remember?
“I don’t think he remembers,” says the man.
“Interesting,” say the women in unison, and all three write something in their notepads.
This… I don’t like this one bit. I don’t like the way these people treat me, like I’m some kind of animal. I’m probably smarter than all of them. And I’m definitely stronger. They should be the ones in here being fucked with. They should be --
Did something just growl? I can’t see anything...
You know what, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting out of this… whatever this is.
I stand up straight. “Let me out of here. Right now.”
“That can’t be done.”
I bang a fist into the glass. “Right now, assholes!”
Oh, shit. I wasn’t planning on doing that. I was trying to be civil, show them I was a human just like them.
“Are you going to get violent again?” asks the one-eared woman.
“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll tear the other ear off too!”
No, I…
“I think we’ve seen enough for today,” she says, unfazed by my aggression. “Let’s move along.”
They lower their pads and continue their march through the hallway.
“Hey! I’m not done with you yet!” I bang the glass, but they ignore me, disappearing behind the corner.
The door in the hallway opens, capturing my attention. A man resembling the others leaves, paying me no further mind. Through the frame of the door, I see a room with actual furniture in it. A sofa, a coffee table, some chairs, and sitting on one chair is --
“Joanna!” I scream. My nails scrape the glass. I should’ve known. I should’ve known that the hospital - the hospital, the police station, my house - that was all just her tricking me again.
Well, I did know. But I did nothing. What could I have done? Nothing. But I should have done something.
“You piece of shit!” I spit at her, but all she gives in return is a brief, uninterested glance with her big red eyes. They no longer leak.
The door swivels to a close, dimming the hallway just a bit, but enough for a reflection to appear. A reflection of me, but also something else. Some kind of shadow over me. Sharp-horned, needle-furred.
Oh Gods, oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods!
Its eyes open. Its blazing, searing yellow eyes. Staring right back at me with its tiny, sharp voids for pupils. Silently as an owl.
“Let me out! Someone!” I rasp. I keep pounding the glass. It hurts all the way to the bones of my hands, but no one comes.
All hairs on end, I turn around. I barely get a free look at the beast when its tendrils seize my neck, coiling around it in a slimy, suffocating grip.
It’s huge. It definitely wasn’t this big before. I try to scream again, but not a puff of air can leave or enter my lungs. I’m forced to stare right into the beast’s maw, the source of the black tentacles wrapped around me. The beast's jagged, off-white teeth point in all directions. Streams of sticky spit roll down its pale tongue and gums.
Something moves in its throat - the wrinkles on the skin. They form faces, faces I recognize, faces of my victims. Agonized. They’re trying to scream, squirm their way out, but all in vain. They're part of the beast now. Forever.
A breathy growl exits the pit of the throat, coating me in the stench of its innards. The jaws open wider.
A crushing grip - the beast’s hand - takes hold of me, squeezing my limbs against my body, crackling the bones. I’m unable to even struggle. The tendrils release my neck, only for the beast’s jaws to pinch around my skull. My primitive side takes full control, and I screech.
The pinch gets tighter. The teeth cut into my scalp with burning pain. Hot blood trickles down my forehead and temples, circles my nose and ears. The teeth reach the bone.
The beast bites down.
Crack!