My Demon (29 page)

She thrashed about under the covers. The images, the sounds wouldn’t go. Sweat beaded on her skin and trickled off her to soak the sheets. She knew Clive stood nearby. What could he do? All of this, everything pointed back to the demon.

Trees pressed in on Alex in her vision world. Large men dressed in black encircled her. Blue smoke leaked from their eyes, the smoke floating through the air, heading for her. Alex spun around, searching desperately for an escape route. As one, they stepped forwards, advancing towards her. “No, no, no,” Alex cried out, and crouched down in a protective huddle. With the sun and trees blocked out by their mass, the air turned cobalt around her.

“No!” she shrieked and sat up in bed, in her bedroom. Not in the woods, where the trees groaned and men in black cloaks hunted her with cloudy blue eyes.

“Babydoll.” Clive waited beside her and put his arms out for a cuddle.

Alex started crying and leaned into his embrace. “I don’t know what to do,” she said and after a long time weeping, pulled away to look into Clive’s eyes. “You can’t fix this pain.” She put a hand over her heart then to her head. “It hurts so bad.”

The demon cleared his throat and said, “No, I can.” For the first time she could remember, he seemed to lose his confident air. He continued, “Today, you don’t need to do anything more. Today and tonight you rest.” He helped her lie down again.

“I have to find him,” Alex said quietly.

“Who?” The demon lay down beside her.

“Harry. My father. I need to find him, find out what happened to him.” Alex shrank away from Clive. She grabbed a pillow and held it like a shield between their bodies. “Then I can figure things out, put them into place.” Alex shuffled over still further, right up against the wall. Why wouldn’t he get the hint and move away from her. The proximity of him made her skin crawl. The demon’s shape hazed, and for a moment, her eyes widened and dread filled her as she watched, waiting for the change to his other shape.

When he spoke, he sounded angry, but underneath, she sensed an undercurrent of fear. “You don’t need your father. Don’t you think if he cared, he’d have called a long time ago? The last thing you need to do is upset yourself further right now.”

Clive reached out to push some stray hairs out of Alex’s eyes. She met his hand with a slap and tucked the loose strands behind her ear, staring wide-eyed at Clive.

“What’s with you? I’m not going to hurt you.” His blinding smile reappeared.

“Until I do the wrong thing, isn’t that right?” She tried to move further away. “Until I say:
No
and you want:
Yes
. Then I get to see the other Clive, the one with real horns and a forked tongue.” Alex curled up tighter. She couldn’t stand his hands anywhere near her. “I want to find my father. I need to follow his trail, figure out where he went if he’s not there. Maybe he’s still at the hospital, unable to call, waiting for me to come to him.” She gasped at the thought, of her father abandoned and alone, only the staff for company.

“He won’t change anything. You’re not like him. You’re different. And what about the drunk, what are you going to do about her?”

Alex held her breath for a moment. She’d forgotten all about Lily. Surely her mother, despite the infection, would leave her alone.

“They are closing in on you, Alex,” Clive said, sounding indifferent. He rolled over and stared at the ceiling.

“No, my mother would never do anything to me. Not like that.”

“You mean like you did to Jeremy.”

Alex lifted a hand, and half-considered slapping him. But there was no energy left in her body. Her hand dropped back to the bed. “She wouldn’t.”

“It’s up to you to strike first. She’ll be preparing now, since the rapist failed.”

Alex stared back, a chill growing in her stomach. Lily wasn’t really her mother anymore. She couldn’t count on mothering instincts saving her. “No.” Alex shook her head. “She wouldn’t.”

The demon narrowed his eyes at her, as if trying to penetrate her mind. In response, Alex imagined a dark cloud over her thoughts and met his gaze with an indomitable stare.

“I need some time, Clive. I hurt in ways I can’t describe. I want to curl up smaller and smaller, until nothing is left. I want to close my eyes and open them in a year, when all these problems are gone, you’ve disappeared, the Podis don’t exist anymore, and Jeremy is waiting for me. I want to close my eyes and dream of nothing, no sounds and smells of death. I want my womb to not ache and not feel fear every time a man reaches for me.”

Clive opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it and said nothing,

“Do you understand me?” She grabbed a lock of her hair and twisted the strands around her finger. “I can’t live like this. It’s too much. The guilt ... is unlivable.”

Clive frowned. “But they are evil.” He sounded incredulous. “The Podis want to kill you, why can’t you understand that, babydoll?” Clive frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing more. As if thinking, after the rape what other proof did she need?

“I am…” She struggled for words. “…crumbling inside. I need space, time. Let me breathe, Clive. Let me begin to mend… my way.”

Clive shook his head but said, “Okay babydoll. I’ll give you some time, if that’s what you need.” Almost as if an afterthought, he said, “I forgot to tell you. The darker the Podis smoke, the closer to spawning.”

The demon leaned over to kiss her goodbye. Alex shrank away and banged her head on the wall. She stared up at him terrified. What did he expect, she’d just been … she flashed back to the woods, the man-monster and his hand… A gasp escaped her. Clive had led her to him. Let it happen. Still shaking his head, a sad expression crossed his features.

“There was no other way, sugarplum,” the demon said, his edges shimmering and fading until only an impression from where he’d been lying was left.

Alex uncoiled and climbed slowly off her bed. She unlocked her door and listened. Downstairs her mother spoke on the telephone. Some complicated sexual fantasy was being invented for the sicko on the other end. Did she not understand? Men who called her were probably like the man that attacked her. Turning from the stairs, Alex crossed the hall and walked into her mother’s bedroom. She grabbed the container of sleeping pills from the bedside cabinet. This time she didn’t take any tablets out, instead choosing to walk off with the bottle.

Back in her own room, the door locked securely, Alex toyed with the idea of swallowing all of the pills. Then wait for the sleepiness to paralyze her limbs, slow her heart and stop her breathing. After a moment’s thought, she emptied the contents into her palm. The day, the rape, seemed to be stuck on repeat in her mind. She kept seeing him spring out from behind the tree. How he ripped off her clothes. How he did
things
to her. There must have been fifty pills in her palm.

Swallow them, she thought. End the nightmare.

Another few minutes passed, and instead of taking the lot of them, she dropped the pills back in the bottle one at a time, until a last chalky white tablet remained. She placed it on her dressing table, next to a glass of water and grabbed her towel. With slow steps, Alex left her room and went to the bathroom, locking the door securely. Not that a simple lock would stop
him
. She ran a hot bath as she poked through the cabinet, and took the scrubbing brush normally used to clean the tub and a container of exfoliant.

Alex opened the pot. The lotion was sweet smelling. Alex rubbed a small amount between her fingers to find out how coarse it was. Satisfied, she put the container on the edge of the bath and stepped into the near boiling water.

She dipped the scrubbing brush in the exfoliant and began scouring her skin, using sharp circular movements that turned her body an angry red. Weeping as she worked on her skin, Alex removed any part
he
could have touched, that
monster
, until her skin threatened to tear and the water stung. Finally, she retreated from the bathroom, her body thumping bursts of pain. Downstairs her mother’s fantasies grew more perverse.

Alex took the waiting pill, closed her eyes and waited for her sleep to turn black. Her last cognizant thought was that she really didn’t have a choice.

T
he telly blared the usual Tuesday night programs, and Alex sank into the armchair with a glass of wine in one hand and the remote in the other. Lily lay on the sofa, her eyes following the path of Alex’s wine glass as she moved it up to her lips. As small sips slid down her throat, she wondered if Lily could almost taste it, a dry white wine with a subtle flavor of petals. Again Alex raised the glass to her lips, watching as the thick blue smoke surrounded her mother.

“I’m going to go boil the kettle,” Lily said, trying to be offhand as she sat up and plumped the cushions. After a long stretch, she attempted a casual stride into the kitchen. Alex heard the scuff of the bottle on the counter, and then a click and gurgle as the kettle fired into life. Alex closed her eyes and tried not to think of what was about to happen.

Lily wandered back into the room, her eyes shifty and guilt ridden. She perched on the arm of the sofa unable to stop licking her lips. Behind her, the hiss of the kettle grew louder as the water heated up.

“Anything good on tonight?” Lily fidgeted with the buttons on her shirt.

“No, not really, Mum. Just a bunch of rubbish as far as I can tell.” Alex pushed on a button and brought the menu up. She flipped randomly through the choices.

“I’ll go and finish my tea then.” Lily walked too fast, almost jogging back to the kitchen, hands deep in her pockets as she tried not to run. The kettle boiled to climax and again the bottle scraped on the counter as her mother picked it up. A few seconds later the bottle clunked down, too hard, followed by a gasp of surprise.

Alex heard water being poured and a teaspoon clinked around the inside of a cup. The menu frozen to the details of one channel, Alex stared at and through the television screen as she listened. She gripped her glass ferociously in one hand. The wine bottle scraped against the counter a third time. Moments later, Lily emerged from the kitchen sporting a rose tinted blush and unable to make eye contact with her daughter.

Lily crashed down on the sofa, and immediately started struggling with a coaster for her tea. She arranged her mug in several ways, turning the handle one way and then the other until abruptly she stood once again.

“Biscuits?” she asked, not waiting for a response, she ran to the kitchen. The bottle was dragged loudly off the counter and banged down a count of ten later. Alex guessed all the wine was gone. Alex took an automatic sip from her glass, but the taste had turned sour. Stretching forward, she placed the half-filled glass on the table, unable to drink more. Lily returned seconds later with no snacks. Sitting with a guilty smile, her mother threw her legs up onto the sofa.

It still isn’t too late, Alex thought as her eyes crept over to her mother. Lily’s eyes were already half lidded and the blush had grown turning her face a drunkard’s red as the alcohol in her stomach hit her blood.

“So what are we going to watch?” Lily asked as she arranged the pillows behind her head and threw the multi-colored patchwork blanket over her feet. She yawned, and Alex couldn’t help but think: What, already?

Alex stared as her mother’s eyelids drooped. Maybe they only fell a millimeter, but Alex noticed, senses running high.

“Alexandra, I don’t feel so well…” her inflection unsure, bewildered.

“It’s okay, Mummy, I’m here,” Alex said. She hesitated the length of a breath and then got up off her chair and kneeled beside her mother. She hugged Lily, receiving a weak cuddle in return.

“What’s wrong with me?” Lily forced her eyes open, the color of her irises faded to a watery turquoise. The smoke of the Podis had turned into a sickly mist that vanished seconds after materializing.

“You’re dying.” Alex started crying. She held her mother’s hands in her own, and rubbed them softly.

“We’re all dying dear.” She exhaled deeply and Alex’s eyes grew large as she waited for Lily to inhale. A jagged breath drew in, followed by a burst of smoker’s cough.