When Felix finally slumped into the leather recliner in his family room, he realized how hard his heart was still thudding.
Thankfully, if his face betrayed any lingering panic, there was no one there to see it. The whole house was sleeping – a rarity in a family of eight – and Alex, after attempting to “sit down for a minute,” had apparently slipped into a coma while Felix was getting him water. Felix didn’t blame him for being exhausted, but he had to admit, he was jealous. He didn’t expect to sleep for a week.
He shuddered. Sure, he’d been told everything beforehand: that the thing the thing that lived… had lived, until tonight… in the Watson family house preyed on the fear of anyone who entered, he understood that perfectly. But, as it turned out, it hadn’t mattered how much he thought he prepared himself. Actually hearing his family’s screams, illusion or not, was a whole different thing all together.
He had found himself curled up in a corner embarrassingly quickly, hands clamped over his ears, when Alex, who had been eerily still until that moment, crossed the room and took both sides of Felix’s face in his hands.
“Just listen for a minute. Okay?”
Felix would have said something to that, but he was too surprised that Alex, of all people, was touching him so readily. He nodded dumbly.
“Good.” Alex nodded back. “Did I ever tell you that I was possessed once?”
He said it with just enough calmness that Felix knew it was forced, but when he found his voice, he managed to laugh. “That’s a hell of a thing to say so casually.”
“I know, right?” Alex said. “But I was. For three years. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t some Linda Blair thing.” Felix swallowed. That wasn’t what he was going to ask.
“It was more like…” Alex paused, thinking, then said, “being crushed, little by little, every day. I lived on the pediatric ward. They did just about every test imaginable, but no one really calls a priest for those kinds of things anymore, do they. And, you know, people really aren’t subtle when they think you’re going to die, but when it hurts that much, you wonder if that’s such a bad thing, anyway.”
His voice had been steadily rising from its usual calm flatness, and he let go of Felix and turned around. It wasn’t until then that Felix realized that Alex had only been half talking to him to begin with. “I think you’ve figured this out by now, but I never really got better, not completely. You don’t even want to know how many hours my parents spend arguing with insurance companies about what constitutes a ‘pre-existing condition.’ Not to mention the steep price I paid for that exorcism. Still paying, actually. I’m not here because I enjoy your company.”
Felix would have been offended, but Alex wasn’t talking to him at all anymore; he was focused on the opposite wall of the Watson’s living room. Felix often wondered what was worse: whatever it was that Alex saw, or the things that Felix imagined from studying his face.
“Anyway, that’s how it is. Now, answer me something, please.” Alex squared his shoulders and drew himself straight. “After all of that, why would I be afraid of you?”
The next part kept replaying in Felix’s mind – why it unsettled him more than anything, he hadn’t quite figured out. But whatever the thing on the opposite wall said to him, Alex, barely visibly, flinched. When he spoke again, it was more resigned: “Maybe you’re right about that.”
It had only been then that Felix made himself stand up.
He slumped back in the recliner, letting the familiar creak reassure him that he wasn’t back in that house, and he draped an arm across his eyes. Under his breath, he mumbled, “Stop making me look bad, Allie.”
Felix half-expected his partner to reply, “It’s not that hard, Felix.” But if Alex had been awake to hear it, he let it go.
T is for Turbulent, and this is too long/serious
Thankfully, if his face betrayed any lingering panic, there was no one there to see it. The whole house was sleeping – a rarity in a family of eight – and Alex, after attempting to “sit down for a minute,” had apparently slipped into a coma while Felix was getting him water. Felix didn’t blame him for being exhausted, but he had to admit, he was jealous. He didn’t expect to sleep for a week.
He shuddered. Sure, he’d been told everything beforehand: that the thing the thing that lived… had lived, until tonight… in the Watson family house preyed on the fear of anyone who entered, he understood that perfectly. But, as it turned out, it hadn’t mattered how much he thought he prepared himself. Actually hearing his family’s screams, illusion or not, was a whole different thing all together.
He had found himself curled up in a corner embarrassingly quickly, hands clamped over his ears, when Alex, who had been eerily still until that moment, crossed the room and took both sides of Felix’s face in his hands.
“Just listen for a minute. Okay?”
Felix would have said something to that, but he was too surprised that Alex, of all people, was touching him so readily. He nodded dumbly.
“Good.” Alex nodded back. “Did I ever tell you that I was possessed once?”
He said it with just enough calmness that Felix knew it was forced, but when he found his voice, he managed to laugh. “That’s a hell of a thing to say so casually.”
“I know, right?” Alex said. “But I was. For three years. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t some Linda Blair thing.” Felix swallowed. That wasn’t what he was going to ask.
“It was more like…” Alex paused, thinking, then said, “being crushed, little by little, every day. I lived on the pediatric ward. They did just about every test imaginable, but no one really calls a priest for those kinds of things anymore, do they. And, you know, people really aren’t subtle when they think you’re going to die, but when it hurts that much, you wonder if that’s such a bad thing, anyway.”
His voice had been steadily rising from its usual calm flatness, and he let go of Felix and turned around. It wasn’t until then that Felix realized that Alex had only been half talking to him to begin with. “I think you’ve figured this out by now, but I never really got better, not completely. You don’t even want to know how many hours my parents spend arguing with insurance companies about what constitutes a ‘pre-existing condition.’ Not to mention the steep price I paid for that exorcism. Still paying, actually. I’m not here because I enjoy your company.”
Felix would have been offended, but Alex wasn’t talking to him at all anymore; he was focused on the opposite wall of the Watson’s living room. Felix often wondered what was worse: whatever it was that Alex saw, or the things that Felix imagined from studying his face.
“Anyway, that’s how it is. Now, answer me something, please.” Alex squared his shoulders and drew himself straight. “After all of that, why would I be afraid of you?”
The next part kept replaying in Felix’s mind – why it unsettled him more than anything, he hadn’t quite figured out. But whatever the thing on the opposite wall said to him, Alex, barely visibly, flinched. When he spoke again, it was more resigned: “Maybe you’re right about that.”
It had only been then that Felix made himself stand up.
He slumped back in the recliner, letting the familiar creak reassure him that he wasn’t back in that house, and he draped an arm across his eyes. Under his breath, he mumbled, “Stop making me look bad, Allie.”
Felix half-expected his partner to reply, “It’s not that hard, Felix.” But if Alex had been awake to hear it, he let it go.