No Strings Attached

Chapter 12

"I have blue hair; I have a BMI of, like, twelve; my mom died of leukemia less than a year ago; I've read more horror stories than most people have seen horror movies. There isn't much you can tell me that I won't believe," I said.

He grinned slightly. "Come inside," he said.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Please," he insisted. "This is gonna take a while."

I cautiously stepped into the entry and awkwardly stood there, waiting for him to do something.

He seemed flustered. "Um...have a seat on the couch, I guess. Do you want some water?"

I shook my head. He was acting like this was a big deal and it was sort of scaring me. What the hell was going on in his house?

He sat down on the other end of the couch, and sighed. "You're probably not even going to believe me," he repeated from two minutes ago.

I gestured to my hair as a reminder of our conversation.

He grinned at the corner of his mouth and looked at the ground. "Trust me, this is a bit more insane than funky hair."

"Well, will you hurry up and tell me?" I pestered. "I'm dying of suspense over here."

Logan took a deep breath, and began. "I've been living here for quite a while, and I knew about all the stuff that supposedly happened here. How it's haunted, and not in the good or harmless way. This block is known for paranormal activity, which is why the rent is so cheap. But...I never thought it would happen to me, of all people. I thought it was all just mumbo-jumbo, because it hadn't been a recent issue.

"Then things started getting weird. It's like the supernatural world awoke from a long slumber, and it was ready to go back to terrorizing Boston. People in this apartment complex and in some of the businesses started reporting small things, like a scuttling noise occurred below the lowermost floor of the building, and the electricity was acting strange. Then people started getting scared for their lives. People on the higher stories of this place swore they saw a face in their window, even though no man could be that tall. I said it was just a pervert who stole a ladder and peeked into people's apartments at night. Maybe it was, after all, but then things started happening to me that made me think otherwise.

"It started out subtly. I couldn't remember events of that day, I felt detached from my body, my dreams were freaky as shit. Soon, though, the thing got stronger. I would be aware of everything, but nothing I did was in my control. Some other entity was taking over my mind and using my body. That was just the beginning. Recently it has become violent. One minute I'll be watching TV, and the next I'll have involuntarily stood up and flung a pillow across the room. Next I would chuck things like apples and pictures for no good reason. I didn't even want to do it. I just did it.

"When I told my dad he thought I just had anger issues, and that I was just lashing out. But I knew that wasn't it. Most of the time, there wasn't even a stimulant. In the middle of watching a soccer game I didn't even care about I would just launch things across the room. Once he witnessed it, though, he knew that something not of this earth was going on. One thing I couldn't observe from the random spouts of irrational outbursts was my physical appearance. My dad was home one day, and I had another episode. After I was back to normal he said that my pupils turned a fiery red and my mouth snarled like a wolf. He took me to a psychiatrist, but he didn't do shit for me. In fact, I got worse.

"My fits started lasting longer. It would go on for up to a couple minutes, just me acting like a wild animal without anything to stop me. But I was never able to stop myself. That's all the crashes you've been hearing. I'm sorry I've worried you." He took a deep breath. "I think I'm possessed, Tegan."

I didn't know what to do. My chemistry lab partner had just confessed something to me that most people would put him in a rehab center for. All these questions started swarming in my brain. Was he telling me the truth? Is this really happening to him? What if his dad is just being abusive and he was trying to cover it up? But then, his story had quite the elaborate detail. There was no way he could just make that up, right? But, come on, possession? That's bull. But he looked so sincere...

Logan stared at me desperately, longing for a response. His dark brown eyes bled vulnerability, and it was strange to see such a tough-looking guy be in a position like that. He was leaning towards me slightly, with his arms supporting him on the furniture. His mouth was pressed into a firm line, preparing himself for a response I could give him. He was holding his breath, silently begging that I wouldn't say, "You're nuts," and walk out. Our entire friendship was relying on what I would tell him now that he has poured out his mind to me.

"I've been reading horror novels all my life," I said slowly. "And they've always been just a story to me."

The hope in his face disappeared. His chest fell in defeat and he looked away towards the carpet again.

"Listen, Logan," I continued. "I'm sorry, but this is just blowing things way out of the water. Do you want me to call CPS so we can get this thing with your dad sorted out?"

He slammed his fists on the coffee table, which made me jump. "Get out," he snarled. "Don't fucking come back, ever!"

I stood up and made my way over to the door.

"My dad doesn't fucking hit me! I swear! No one fucking believes me, and I'm stuck here with this goddamn demon controlling my body!" Logan turns away from me.

I'm too shocked to move, my hand on the doorknob.

"I said get the fuck out!" he screams.

So I left, holding back the tears.