"The muses are ghosts, and sometimes they come uninvited." - Stephen King, Bag of Bones
I banged my fists on the door, screaming and crying. "Help me! Please!"
Why wasn't anyone coming to help me? Why wouldn't they unlock the door?
"Help me!" I screamed again.
Help didn't come this time. Nick was not on the other side of the door to come to my rescue. The door remained locked while I continued to sob, knowing the bloody-neck-lady was coming to get me. I was afraid to look back, afraid to look down those stairs because I knew I would see her. I knew she was coming. Why wouldn't they open the door? I had been a good girl all day long. Why wouldn't they help me?
"Shawn? Shawn!" I heard a distant voice.
Someone was shaking me. It had to be bloody-neck-lady. She finally got me. I was only nine years old and I was about to die.
"Noooo!" I screamed.
"Shawn!"
I heard my name again. My eyes flew open and I instinctively started trying to shove off whomever was shaking me so hard.
"Stop! Stop! You're okay!" the person said.
It took a moment for my sleepy eyes to focus.
"Nick?" I gasped.
His hands were grasping my shoulders, his blue-green eyes looking down at me in concern. I was shaking violently, but that wasn't his doing anymore. It was the aftermath being thrown back in that basement with the bloody-neck-lady, even if only in my mind.
"Where the fuck am I?" I said, clutching my chest and trying to catch my breath.
"My apartment, remember? You were having a nightmare. Was it about that spirit?"
"The basement door wouldn't open. I was stuck in there with the ghost. I couldn't get out," I said, still breathing hard.
"The basement? Don't you mean the closet?" Nick said.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. The closet. Of course that's what I meant."
There was no reason to get into all that with him. Nick didn't need to know about that basement. No one did.
He removed his hands from my shoulders. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I said, taking a few deep breaths. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep. How long was I out?"
"First of all, there's no reason to apologize. Second, you've been sleeping for about six hours now."
"What?!" I said, looking around for a clock nearby. I didn't see any on the wall, but I realized if Nick had a clock, it would probably be among the left-over food items on the table or the papers and cups in the floor. I glanced in those areas, but saw no clock among the wreckage, so I gave up the hunt.
"Why didn't you wake me up? I'm basically a stranger sleeping on your couch," I said.
"You're not a stranger. I knew you needed sleep. Oh, and Brandon called, by the way," Nick said, holding up his cell phone. "He wanted to make sure we hadn't murdered each other since he knew you were coming over here."
"A valid concern," I said, grinning.
"And why don't you have a cell phone?"
"Oh. I smashed it."
"You smashed it?"
"Long story," I said, waving my hand in a gesture of dismissal.
"Well, I know you guys are going back to that house tonight, so I printed off a screen shot of the information we found earlier. I did some more digging while you were passed out and found out how the guy died," he said, pointing to some papers laying on the coffee table. I guess important information didn't go in the floor.
"Really? How?"
"He set himself on fire. Burned alive."
"What?! How? In the house? Wouldn't it have burned down? And aren't there less painful ways to go out?"
"It said his body was found by his son in the basement. He probably found him before it spread," Nick said. He nodded toward the papers he had printed out laying on the table. "You can take that to Richard."
I sat up, but immediately groaned. I felt a sharp pain in my hip. I must have hurt it the night before when hit closet wall or the floor.
"Are you sure you're okay?" he said.
"Yes. I'll be fine," I said picking up the papers Nick had laid amongst the debris on the coffee table. "But we're both going to take this to Richard."
"I don't know if he's ready to see my face right now," he said, looking apprehensive.
"I don't care what he is, or isn't ready for. You found that information. You love your job, and you deserve to have it back."
"Are you always this stubborn?" he said, grinning.
"Yes. So there's no use fighting it. You're coming with me."
When Nick and I walked in the office building an hour later, everyone was gathered around Ruby's desk talking. They stopped as soon as they saw us. Ruby dropped the pink cell phone she had been holding. It hit her desk with a loud thud, but she ignored it, staring at Nick in shock. Axl, who had been trying to conspicuously look over Ruby's shoulder at her phone mumbled something that sounded like, "Oh, shit." Brandon looked to me, as if I had the answer as to why his jerk ex-best friend had the balls to walk into a place he had been fired. Richard's eyes narrowed as he fixed Nick with an expression worthy of Michael C. Hall's "Dexter-kill-face."
"Nick. . . " Richard started to say.
"Richard, wait," I said, stepping between him and Nick as if I were already breaking up a fight. "Nick has something he wants to say to you all."
Richard certainly didn't look happy, but he closed his mouth and didn't say anything else. I stepped back and let Nick take the floor.
"I know these past couple months I haven't been very pleasant. I've been a giant tool-bag, and that's putting it mildly," he said, staring at his own feet while nervously running his hand through his hair. "I was going through something really shitty, and that's no excuse. Time didn't stop like you think it should when something bad happens. I felt so bad and I couldn't understand how other people were able to go on with their lives being happy. I guess because I was miserable, I wanted everyone else to feel some of the pain I felt."
He finally tore his eyes from the floor to look at the others. "Shawn helped me see that treating other people I care about like shit doesn't help anything. It doesn't make me feel better, and it certainly doesn't help anyone else," he went on. "Anyway, what I'm trying to say is I am truly sorry, you guys. I don't expect you to forgive me. I can only hope."
There was a tense pause, but then Richard came forward. I thought he might hit Nick, but instead he embraced him like a father would a son. "I forgive you," he said.
Nick looked shocked, but gave a quick hug back, his face turning bright red. Ruby came out from behind the desk with tears in her eyes, and shoved a surprised Richard aside. The girl was stronger than she looked. She threw her arms around Nick as she let out a sob.
"You don't have to cry!" Nick said to her, looking awkward as he gently patted her on the back.
"I can't help it!" she sobbed into his shoulder.
The rest of us laughed. As Nick continued to hug Ruby, his eyes met mine over her shoulder and he gave me a quick smile.
"All right, I hope we're done with this Full House moment," Axl said, winking at Nick. "Let's do our jobs."
Ruby finally let go of Nick, who looked gratefully at Axl for the small bit of comic relief to divert the attention away from him. Ruby wiped her eyes and returned to her desk.
"You've never hugged me like that," Axl teased.
"And I never will," she said, picking up her cell phone again and returning her full attention to it.
"Nick found some really great information I think can help us with this case," I said, pulling out the folded up papers Nick had printed out from my purse.
"Well, Shawn helped," he said.
"Aren't you two a cute little team? Are you going to get married now?" Axl joked.
"Blow me," I said, irritably.
Nick chuckled, "I really do love your filthy mouth."
"That's what she said!" Axl said giggling like a five-year-old. I shouldn't call him that. I was giggling, too.
"Ew, Axl," Ruby said, barely glancing up from her phone.
"Guys," Richard said in a warning tone. "Go on, Nick."
I passed the papers to Richard as Nick explained to the rest of the group the information we had found about Dean.
"The guy set himself on fire? How do they know it was really a suicide? That's not usually how people do it. Seems pretty painful," Brandon said, looking at the papers over Richard's shoulder. "I guess I might throw someone in a closet too, if that's how I died."
I glared at him. "Gee, thanks."
He gave me a sheepish grin. "Sorry."
"Well, we should try to make contact with this guy Dean, then," Richard said, passing the papers back to me.
"I don't know. He doesn't seem to be a big talker if he was throwing Shawn around," Axl said.
"That might have been our fault. We were screaming at each other. I think it contributed to the negative energy in the air," Nick said.
"Wait. Make contact?," I said. "Something tells me it won't be as easy as calling the dude on the phone.
"We try to talk to the spirit," Brandon said. "Sometimes it can be harder if they don't seem very chatty, so we have to do some séance type stuff."
"You're kidding, right?" I said, looking back and forth between my cousin and Richard.
"I don't like to call it a séance," Richard said. "There are certain connotations that come with that word. People tend to imagine the silly things they see in movies of teenagers trying to talk to their dead great-aunt Tilly."
"Gross. My great aunt Tilly smells funny. I don't want to talk to her after she kicks the bucket," Axl said.
I choked back a laugh when I saw the irritated look on Richard's face.
"My point is," he went on, ignoring Axl, "that word makes the whole thing sound like a joke. We just bring a few items along that have been known to be able to help make contact with spirits."
"Like what?" I said, wracking my brain to imagine what would normally be used in a 'non-séance'. I had only made contact with the dead twice as far as I knew. At the Martin house, I'd only had a flashlight, a digital thermometer, and an intense hatred for a coworker. When I was nine years old in that basement, all I had in my hands had been a Sweet Valley Kids book. Something told me the adventures of Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield were not something that could make a spirit start having a friendly chat with you.
"Do you bring Ouija Boards? Incense? Voodoo Dolls?"
"Voodoo Dolls have nothing to do with contacting spirits, Shawn. And I already told you how fucked up Ouija boards are," Nick said.
"Yeah, yeah. The Ouija board will beat me in the head in the middle of the night, gouge my eyes out with the planchette, and take my cookie, or whatever," I said dismissively.
"I don't think you, of all people, should be joking about being attacked by anything in the middle of the night," Brandon said.
"Good point," I said, remembering my body slamming into the back of the closet wall.
"Sometimes we bring a personal item of the spirit that meant a lot to them. It's usually something sentimental, like jewelry or something," Richard said. "In this case, we don't have anything like that since we don't know much about this man. We always bring candles, though. White candles. They've been known to help make contact with a spirit if it is particularly difficult."
"Why white?"
"White is generally associated with purity, which means it's less likely to summon something truly evil, like a demon."
"A demon?! Are demons real?!" I said.
"What do you think?" Ruby said, peaking at me over her phone.
"I think you shouldn't answer that right now. I'm having a hard enough time dealing with everything else at the moment."
"Okay, then that's the plan. We make contact when we go back to the house tonight," Richard said.
"Well, I never thought I would say this, but let's go talk to a ghost," I said.
"Do I really have to go in that room again?"
It was only about an hour later that I found myself standing in the hallway just outside of little Tommy's room holding my special-summoning-candle. The others were already in the room with their candles lit waiting on me to join them. I couldn't seem to bring myself to step through the door for fear I might be thrown around by some invisible force again.
"Shawn, it's okay," Ruby said gently.
"Is it really?" I said, starting to feel irritated. "Because I seem to remember being thrown in a closet and locked inside, Ruby. Does that sound okay to you?"
"We're all with you this time," Richard said.
I stared at them, trying to will myself to step forward. Their faces looked eerie in the dark, lit only by the candlelight. It made them look like ghosts, which made me feel even more on edge.
I shivered involuntarily. "Is it cold in here? It feels cold. Doesn't that mean the ghost is nearby?" I said, looking around as if the dead dude might appear at any moment.
"Shawn, come on. Stop stalling," Brandon said.
"Yeah, we can't stand here all night," Axl added.
"You have something better to do, Axl? Or someone better to do?" Ruby said.
"As a matter of fact. . . " Axl started to say.
"Guys, chill," Nick said. "Come on. You're going to be okay. I promise."
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I then stepped through the doorway as if I were stepping through a wormhole to another dimension. Richard came toward me with one of those huge barbecue lighters to light my candle. It made me wish I were at a barbecue, and not a ghost-summoning.
I reluctantly joined the rest of the team in forming a circle in the middle of the room in front of Tommy's bed. I ended up being the one with my back to the bed and closet. This made me feel incredibly unsafe.
"Let's do this!" Ruby said cheerfully, as if we were a softball team getting ready for a big game.
We all fell silent, and Richard began the non-séance. "Is there anybody here with us tonight?"
We heard nothing the sound of our own breathing. The whole thing felt both ridiculous and frightening. Richard was right about feeling like a group of teens trying to summon the Lord of the Damned, or whatever it is kids do in sleepovers. But despite the ridiculous adolescent-slumber-party-feel, I couldn't keep my hands from shaking or ignore the heavy weight of anxiety growing in my chest.
I tried a breathing exercise I'd heard about in the past to alleviate anxious feelings. I took a deep breath, held it for 4 seconds, then let it out slowly. It didn't work that well. There are no specific breathing exercises for when one is summoning the dead.
"Yo, ghost man," Axl spoke up. "Come on out. You can check out Ruby's nice rack."
I didn't hear any ghost respond, but I did hear a distinct whacking sound like someone being smacked in the arm, followed by an "Ow!" from Axl.
"Axl, take this seriously," Richard said.
"I am! Her rack is what motivates me to come out and play!"
Again, there was another smacking sound as Ruby and Axl's candles shook in response to their shenanigans.
"Ass," I heard her say.
She didn't sound as mad as you would expect. It sounded more like amusement. Nick chuckled besides me, and I, too, was honestly glad for the little bit of comic relief. For a moment, I almost forgot about the dead man who had tried to seriously injure me.
"Guys . . . " Richard said. I saw his scarred hand rubbing his temples in the light of his candle.
"I think the more accurate term is children," Brandon added.
"It does feel like a kindergarten," I said. "There's childrens' toys, a pissed off authority figure, and the adult equivalent of a boy pulling a girl's pigtails."
"Yeah, and I'm sure Axl will need to be put down for a nap soon before he gets fussy," Ruby said.
"And I'm sure there will be crying when Ruby is begging to join me in the Batman bed for our so-called-nap," Axl said.
Nick and I both started laughing.
"Guys!" Richard barked, boarding on shouting. We all immediately fell silent again, and the room was filled with the guilt and shame of an elementary school class getting caught talking after their teacher left the room. "This is serious. We're trying to talk to someone who's dead. It's someone who might need our help, who is in so much distress they reacted violently to one of your co-workers. You're treating it like a joke. Have some respect."
"Sorry," Axl said sincerely.
"Yeah, sorry," Ruby said.
There was an awkward pause before Ruby spoke up again, "If any spirit is here, you can talk to us. We're here to help you."
There was still no response.
"It's not working," Nick said.
"Just give it time. We've only been sitting here for less than five minutes," Brandon said.
"Why don't Shawn and Nick start arguing again? That's what starting things last night," Axl said.
"No!" the rest of us said at the same time.
I looked at the others in surprise. While I was definitely done fighting with Nick, I didn't expect the others to be so passionate about the subject as well. I guess Brandon could see the shocked look on my face through the candlelight.
"That was hard enough to deal with the first time. It doesn't need to happen again."
"You make it sound like it was World War 3 or something," Nick said, leaning over me to look at Brandon.
"It was. And the rest of us got caught in the crossfire," Richard said.
"Hey!" Nick and I said at the same time.
"Okay, we need to try something else, because what we're doing now isn't working," Ruby said.
I thought for a moment, staring into my candle's bright flame. "Maybe we don't have to argue. Maybe just talking to a familiar person he's thrown around would work."
I took a deep breath, hoping what I was about to do wouldn't work. I didn't want to see or interact with anything that had attacked me, but if it needed to be done, I would do it.
"Why did you attack me last night?" I didn't think it had worked until I felt a strong, cold breeze against my face, and all of our candles went out at the same time. "Oh, fuck," I said, as I heard other curses come from the rest of the group in the dark.
"I can't see!" Ruby cried out.
"No shit!" Axl said.
"Can you re-light these candles, Richard?" I asked, hearing my voice shaking.
I heard the click-click sound of his lighter, but I didn't see a spark.
"It's not working."
"It's the spirit," Brandon said.
"So, it's me you want to talk to, huh?" I said to the dark room.
It was getting colder, and I smelled the familiar scent of Old Spice and dirt, just like I had the night before. Dread settled in my chest like a sack of bricks. I knew something was about to happen, I just didn't know what.
BAM!
We all screamed and I grabbed onto the person nearest to me, unable to tell who it was. After my eyes adjusted to the dark, I realized the closet door that had flown open and smacked the wall. I thought I was about to be thrown back in that closet a second time, and I didn't think I'd be able to handle again.
"No, no, no," I whispered frantically.
That's when it hit me again. The pain. The burning, searing pain throughout my whole body. I cried out and squeezed the person's arm I was holding.
"Shawn?" It was Nick.
I couldn't breathe. The pain was so unbearable, I thought I was going to die. I dropped to the floor on my hands and knees, hoping desperately for the pain to stop.
"Shawn!" I heard Nick's voice again.
"What's going on?" said Richard from behind us.
"I think she's hurt," Nick said.
The pain finally stopped and I was able to breathe again. I removed the pressure from my knees on the floor, and sat down, my arms behind me propping me up while I gasped for air. I didn't have much time to catch my breath before I noticed a soft glow begin to fill the room. It was coming from the corner. At first, the light was dim and it looked like a person standing in the shadows. I heard boots on the hardwood floor as the person took two steps forward, the light becoming brighter. I closed my eyes, hoping that whatever it was would go away, and praying it was only another one of my nightmares.
"Shawn?" I heard someone say behind me.
I finally forced myself to open my eyes, which I regretted immediately. What I saw was the most horrifying, grotesque thing I had ever seen in my entire fucking life. A man stood above me, staring down at me sitting helplessly on the floor. He was definitely the person I had seen in the picture on Nick's computer earlier that day, but there were a few differences with the scene in front of me. He looked like something straight out of a Halloween haunted attraction; only this was no costume. This was real.
The man's face was a skull with chunks of charred, blackened skin sliding down, like he was literally melting before our eyes. One eye slid down near his cheek, barely dangling from slimy blood vessels. His arms were completely seared with more flesh sliding off, looking like a burned turkey from Thanksgiving. Under the burned t-shirt, the eagle tattoo I had seen in his profile picture was completely disfigured. The scorched man loomed over me, the sliding-eyeball focused right on my own eyes. I was locked completely in place. There was no way I could move from that spot. Fear had taken over in the form of catatonia.
The man raised one fist to reveal bones poking out of the flesh of his fingers as he reached for me. His hand only inches from my neck, and I knew he was about to choke me. I knew this was it. I was going to die at the hand of a cauterized ghost.