I haven't posted in this story for a while, and people have been keen to find out what will happen next. To be completely honest, I don't know where this story is going. There will be two more after this, so I guess I better start summing it all up.
This is part 5/7.
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Paranormal [Par-a-nor-mal] –adjective
1. Of or pertaining to the claimed occurrence of an event or perception without scientific explanation, as psychokinesis, extrasensory perception, or other purportedly supernatural phenomena.
I cradled the football in my arms. The ball was wet; I didn’t know if it was from the rain or the tears. It all mixed in together. My back was pressed firmly against a thick tree. The bark was coarse and rubbed against my skin, inflaming it.
I needed more pain. The many scars up and down my backside and wrist were beginning to fade. I needed the pain to go on. I needed it to numb my senses.
It’d been four weeks since Lillian’s funeral. It’d been four weeks since I had used the game that killed her. No. I didn’t kill her. Richard did. Ever since he had gotten that board, things had been happening. Things that have never happened before. It only brought on more and more pain. Unbearable pain.
After four weeks, you would think the pain would go away. It doesn’t. It only gets worse.
I could see Jen out of the corner of my eye. She was walking into the park cautiously, looking directly at me. Carrying a schoolbag in one hand and a book in another, she looked like she was going to do her homework in the park. Next to me. In the rain.
I looked back down and clutched the football tighter against my chest. I rocked back and forth, gently, as if I were swaying with the wind.
When she approached me, I didn’t look up. She sat next to me, on the other side of the tree, careful to keep her distance. I closed my eyes and gnawed on my lip.
Anything for more pain.
Jen sighed and spoke.
“Stevie…”
“Jen, please,” I muttered. “Go away. I want to be alone right now. Please. Just go.”
“It’s been hard for all of us, Stevie. Things will only get worse if you don’t talk to us and tell us how we can help.”
“I’m not the only one that needs help.”
There was a charged silence between us. I could feel anger boiling inside of my gut. I shifted away from her. She shifted closer.
“Steve, you’ve been cutting!” Jen cried. I examined my left arm. There were more cuts than last time Jen had seen me. They were bright, red, and swollen, like a zit.
“So?”
“Steve, please come home. You’ve been out here for hours.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Steve—” Jen began reaching out to me, but I shoved her arm back.
“I said leave me the hell alone!” I shouted, and pushed Jen away from me. I curled up and placed my head between my legs. I was shaking.
I could faintly hear Jen sobbing. To block out the noise, I began humming. The notes were rushed. I needed something to block out that insanely annoying cry. I rocked my body harder, and the rain pelted the back of my head. I shivered but continued humming.
Jen was still crying.
“Shut up,” I whispered. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.” Slowly, I raised my head and glared at her.
“Go away! Now! I’m sick of you! I’m sick of everyone! Go away!” I elevated my arm and formed a fist. Her eyes widened.
“You wouldn’t hit me.”
I glared her in eyes. They were soft. Moist. Idiotic and weak.
I roared and swept my fist at her face. It hit her directly in the jaw. I could feel her flesh rip as I dug my fingernails into her skin. Something hidden stirred within me as I attempted to grab her throat. I threw myself upon her and punched and slugged and bit and cried.
She was screaming, but I couldn’t hear her anymore. She was trying to get away, but to no prevail.
I slugged her again, in the cheek. She face planted into the wet grass. There was a small blood puddle next to her mouth. Again, I took the opportunity to grab her throat.
I did.
It felt warm under my trembling hands.
Too warm.
I took her throat between my hands and squeezed. Her eyes bulged. I smiled. Her face was bright red; if it was from the blood, or lack of oxygen, I didn’t know.
I could feel the blood flowing through her tender neck.
It was alive. No. She was alive.
What was I doing?
I stopped squeezing and hesitantly pulled away from her. The boiling rage simmered. Jen was lying in the grass, motionless. Had I killed her?
I thought about where murderers go. Jail. Prison. Thirty to life.
Hell.
H.E.L.L. That was where the spirit had gone. The spirit was a murderer. It had killed Lillian. Now it was killing Jen.
“Jen? Jen?” She didn’t answer. She was breathing, though. I sighed in relief. Slowly, I shook her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered.
“Jen, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to--this is all my fault--what have I done? I almost killed you--I’m so sorry--please forgive me--do you need a hospital--please answer me! Jen! Jen? Jen… Jen.”
Everything was slurring together. The rain melted my thoughts into a sticky mess.
“I hate you,” Jen whispered. I gasped and leaned closer.
“Jen! You’re alright!” What she had spoken didn’t even faze me.
“I hate you. Get away from me, you creep.” She slowly opened her eyes. They were bloodshot. Jen glared at me.
“Jen, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what—”
“Leave me alone!” She slapped me across the face and pushed me. Then she clumsily stood up and began to run, leaving me alone in the park.
I glanced around me. The football had blood on it.
-
A week later, I got a call from Richard.
“I bought another Ouija board,” he muttered. I could tell in his voice that he was ashamed of what he’d done.
“Oh,” I replied. I really wanted to tell Richard was an idiot he was. This was the third Ouija board that he had gotten now, wasn’t it? I thought that the first one was more than enough evil to last a lifetime.
“I’ve talked to Lillian, Steve,” Richard went on. “Last night, and the night before. You need to come over tonight. She needs to talk to all of us. She’s going to warn us about something.”
“About what?”
“She won’t tell me.”
“That’s bull. Richard, stop buying those boards. You’re becoming too attached to them. I don’t believe you anymore. I don’t believe anyone anymore. Everyone has been so freaking stupid after Lillian died. I’m sick of those boards, I’m sick of ghosts, I’m sick of being sick of everything, and most of all, I’m sick of you. You’re the one that made us play that Ouija board game. You’re the one that got Lillian killed. It’s all your fault, Richard. I hate you.” I hung up.
-
Later that week, Brianne knocked on my door. As I opened it, I could tell that something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong.
“Brianne?” I asked.
“I need to, um, I need to sit. You need to sit, too. I need to tell you something.”
“What? What’s wrong?” I invited her into the house, and she sat on one of the couches. I took the other. I stared into her eyes.
“Roger’s disappeared. Gone. No one knows where he is. We knew this was going to happen. And we didn’t even try to stop it…” Brianne suddenly broke into a dramatic wail.
I reached out to her, alarmed. “What’s going on? Answer me!”
After Brianne had regained herself, she spoke, “We had another séance. You and Roger didn’t come.”
I sighed. “That’s what happened? You’re all freaked out about a séance? I told Richard that he should never have bought it!”
“But something happened in the séance! Something that has never happened before!” Brianne cried, and wiped her eyes.
“What? What happened?” I asked.
“Lillian told us who was going to be killed next.”
I leaned back into my couch, sighing. I rolled my eyes.
“That board is a load of bull, Brianne. Don’t believe it.”
“Lillian told us Roger was going to be killed next, Steve. Listen to me! She told us he was going to be killed. And now look. He’s gone. Disappeared. Without a trace.”
“He probably went to the store and got lost. That kid is accident prone,” I muttered with a sour tone.
“There’s a search party out looking for him, Steve. This is serious.”
I bit my lip, not knowing what to say, or how to say it.
“Something is going wrong. We need to stop the spirit that’s going to kill all of us. It has a plan. We need to find that plan, and destroy the spirit. Or at least send it back to hell, where it came from. We need your help, Steve. You’re a part of this too.”
“Yeah, well, what if I don’t want to be? Did you ever think of that? What if I didn’t want to do that freaking séance? It’s all Richard’s fault!” I roared, my blood boiling rapidly.
Brianne glanced down at her shoes for a moment.
“We’re all part of the group. We need to end this. Please, Steve. Please help us. We need you. We need all of us to do this.”
I didn’t reply. I only leaned further back into the couch. After a while, Brianne spoke again.
“Jen says that she wants to break up with you. She would have done this personally, but you won’t answer her calls, texts, or emails.”
“Good. I hate her. I hate her, and I hate Richard. They’re both idiots.”
“Steve!” Brianne cried, flinging herself up from the couch. “You’re such a moron!” She walked herself to the front door and glanced back at me once more.
“Even though you’re being stupid right now, I’m serious about you being a part of this. We are all going to die if you don’t help us. Roger’s missing. You have to realize that. Every one of us will go missing if you don’t help. Please.”
With that, she walked out and slammed the door shut.
-
“Hey. This is Richard. I’m not able to answer right now, so if you’ll please leave your name, number and message, I’ll get back to you.”
“Richard, this is Steve. I’m sorry for being such jerk. I’m assuming you sent Brianne over here to persuade me? I was a jerk to her too. I’m sorry.
“The reason I’m calling is because I wanted to tell you that I want to help you guys. I don’t know what the plan is, but you guys are my friends. You’re my world to me. I can’t desert you now.
“When’s the next time that we're going to meet up? Count me in. I’ll be there.”
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