The Banishing (20 page)

J. Howell: Richard, what do you believe is in the house you and Grace shared?

RD: Demons. Or a demon.

JH: What makes you think that?

RD: Grace saw it. She tried to tell me many, many times. (At this point, Richard starts crying.) She knew somehow what was going on and that the demons made me do the things I was doing. She knew before I ever knew, before I ever dared to believe her.

JH: You used to hit Grace, didn’t you?

RD: Yes.

JH: How did that make you feel at the time?

RD: I don’t remember.

JH: You don’t remember how you felt?

RD: I don’t remember hitting her at all.

JH: You don’t remember punching her or sexually assaulting her?

RD (Still crying): No! No! I didn’t remember any of it, I told you. Whatever lived in that fucking house—it was the one doing those things through me! I told you. It was never me, never, ever me!

JH: You understand you will be undergoing a psychiatric evaluation tomorrow, and doctors will be assessing your mental state. If you truly don’t remember abusing Grace, then this is significant; however, you might have suppressed the memory. It’s the brain’s coping strategy at times of stress.

RD: I don’t care, anymore. I know they think I’m a fucking lunatic for blaming the demons, but it’s real. It’s real. It’s them who need locking up! Ask Grace!

JH: Grace is dead, Richard.

RD: Because of them! Because of what they made me do.

JH: You heard voices?

RD: Not exactly. Grace told me I heard things. She heard me talking to them.

JH: Do you take any responsibility for Grace’s suicide?

RD: It was the demons in that house, Doctor. I swear. The demons in that house.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Melissa read to the bottom of the handwritten notes and turned to Josh. His eyes were staring ahead, and he seemed lost in thought.

“What happened to this guy?” she asked, panic rising like vomit in her stomach and throat. Above them, a slice of white tore into the sky and a rumble of thunder crackled overhead.

“He is in Saint Margaret’s Mental Health Facility,” Josh answered. “They locked him up. I looked into it. The day after I made those notes, they gave him a mental health assessment, and because of all his ravings about the house and demons making him abuse Grace, they sectioned him.”

Melissa sighed. “They thought he was crazy.”

“Of course,” Josh said. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Not
now
I wouldn’t. Shit, Josh. Richard went through exactly the same thing Mark is right now. What does that tell you? This is real. I told you. It’s all happening. It’s far too much to be a coincidence. I told you what I saw…that thing in our lounge…” The memory of the black, featureless figure crept into her mind, and she pushed it away, the ugly memory mocking and awful.

Josh shot her a look, dark and angry. “Look what happened to Grace! You need to get out before you end up—”

“I’m not suicidal, Josh. Tired? Yes. Drained. Upset. Angry, even. I am not going to kill myself.”

“Then, what will you do?” he asked, placing the folder inside his case.

“I’m going to see Richard in Saint Margaret’s. Are you coming with me?”

* * * *

They shared her car. Josh decided—reluctantly it seemed, to Melissa—to go with her. She had the feeling that Josh was still finding it hard to believe what was happening. That there could possibly be something so dark, something beyond our understanding, out there. Something intelligent enough to mess with people’s minds, with people’s heads. She couldn’t blame him. She could barely digest the reality in her mind or even believe it. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes…she would have already called the police on Mark and left him.

Things would have been different.

She felt very unsure that she could have changed any of it.

Josh was a sensible man. He worked in psychiatry. Studies of the mind. Of course, he was finding it hard to come to grips with what she was saying. Of course. She didn’t blame him.
Things were what they were
, Melissa thought. Despite his obvious reluctance to give in, to fully let go of his skepticism and misgivings, she was glad to have him there, beside her.

They drove to Saint Margaret’s in silence. The rain, heavier now than ever, was pelting against the car windows, sending the world around them into fluidity. Every now and then, thunder rumbled across the dark sky, lightening occasionally pulsating across the blanket of black, sending the world alight for brief moments at a time.

Josh was staring ahead, calling out occasional directions to the mental health unit; he explained that during his time training, he had to do several placements in mental health facilities across Buckinghamshire, Oxford, and London. Saint Margaret’s was one of the places he’d been to. Luckily, he was good at remembering where it was. Melissa didn’t have a map, and neither of them was good at reading one.

For a while, the silence between them was welcome. Melissa felt so lost in her thoughts about the Danvers, about Mark, about their house—everything, in truth—that she enjoyed being able to get lost in her thoughts. All day at work, she had felt numb; too tired to think or even care, but after reading Richard Danvers’s file, she was shocked into action. The evidence that backed up everything she had so far thought.

Of course, Melissa realized sullenly that it didn’t help that Richard was in a mental health facility. No one believed in him at the time, and look where he ended up. Where would she end up? What about Mark?

The silence, as they drove on, started to become slightly uncomfortable. She knew it was because Josh still felt awkward about what he had said.

It had to be. Until today, Josh had been nothing but vibrant, confident, and self-assured. Now, he seemed shy and coy, his eyes darting when she met his. She hated that. She suddenly wished he’d never told her.

“How much longer?” Melissa asked, breaking the taut air between them.

“Get off the motorway at the next exit, then take a left. After that, we’ll only be a few minutes away.”

Melissa nodded, looking up at the sky as another shot of lightening sparked above them and then smiled. “I used to hate thunderstorms as a kid. Used to frighten the living daylights out of me.”

Josh laughed. “I can’t say I used to be a fan, and if the power blew, I’d freak out. Let’s just say I wasn’t past sneaking into my parents’ room and sleeping with them.”

Melissa laughed. “Bless you. I thought I was bad.”

“What is it we’re doing?” he asked, his voice suddenly void of the lightness, weightlessness of moments ago.

Melissa peered over at him. “I just need to see Richard. I don’t know what he’ll be able to tell me, but I just feel that I have to see him. It’s not as if I have a million other options, is it?”

Josh sighed. “I meant us. Is it just me, or is there something between us?”

Melissa felt a jolt, something like electricity passing through her, and she fell momentarily into silence.
This again,
she thought, partly annoyed and yet—frustratingly—flattered, again. “I don’t know what you want to hear from me, Josh. I do like you, yes. I can’t say I haven’t noticed that you’re not bad to look at—” she flashed him a smile, then added, “but I’m married, and I wouldn’t be putting myself through hell like this if I didn’t love my husband. Do you not realize how much easier my life would be if I walked out on him at the first sign of any of this crap? This living hell. It’s only because he’s worth it. I knew who Mark was before all of this mess. After losing my parents...he was the one who was there for me, helped me pick up the pieces. I saw a side to him...no, not a side to him, but the real him. He’s a good man, beneath all of this. I don’t know what else to say. I’m only human. It’s not like I don’t…you know...” she trailed off, feeling her cheeks burn red. “You’re great, and if I wasn’t married...”

“But, you are.”

Melissa snatched another look at him. “Yes, I am.”

“He must be a special man,” Josh said, his eyes turning back to the window. His face looked gray under the darkening light, shadows passing across his skin as they drove.

“He is. Josh, you don’t even know me. I’m honestly flattered, really because you’re…bloody gorgeous,” she said and laughed, a forced, unnatural sound. “You don’t know me,” she repeated. “I don’t know what it is that you think you like about me, but really, I’m not all that great.”

Suddenly, the awkwardness had passed between them, and the air between them seemed more relaxed.

Melissa pulled off the motorway at the exit that Josh pointed out, and she wove her way into the left lane that he indicated.

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Who can? Can you really describe why somebody gets under your skin? You can’t, can you? Things are just…the way they are. I’m sorry I keep bringing this up. You’ve got enough on your plate…and Mark doesn’t sound like someone I should be messing with,” he added coyly.

Melissa shot him another look. Annoyed. “Hey, come on.”

“What? You’re defending him, now? I’m seeing what he’s doing to you right before my eyes. I’ve only known you a week, and you’re…changing before my eyes. You’re skin and bones, now. I see how wrecked you are. You are going to defend him?”

Melissa felt heat rising in her chest, but she tried desperately to avoid arguing; she felt too tired to argue, since she barely had enough energy to do the things she had to do without adding more problems to her list. “I’m not
defending
him, but I’m not blaming him, either. As I’ve told you—several times now—it’s that house.”

Josh sighed a heavy, exasperated sound. “I don’t know what to think about all this.”

“You read that file, didn’t you?” Melissa snapped. “Isn’t that why you showed me?”

“I suppose. Yes, it’s weird.”

“More than weird. Two couples have virtually the same experience in the same house.”

“It can happen.”

“Come on! Richard Danvers’s history clearly shows he was normal, stable, and never laid a finger on a fly his entire life, then a few months after moving into 46, he is beating his wife…raping her.” Melissa’s voice lowered.

Josh turned to her. “Has Mark ever…?”

Melissa left the question hanging in the air, although she suspected that her silence gave Josh the answer he was seeking.

“You don’t have to believe any of it. You don’t have to even come in if you don’t want. Wait in the car.”

“No,” Josh protested. “I’ll come in. Now, I want to know what this whole thing is about, too.”

“Well, let’s hope we’ll get some answers—somehow.”

“Are you working tomorrow?” he asked.

Melissa shrugged. “I’m supposed to be. The way I’m feeling, I don’t know. I’m so tired.”

“Want to meet at lunch? I’m working, too.”

“Can’t.”
We shouldn’t.

“Why?”

“I have to get home. I have a priest coming over at noon.”

Josh turned to her, his eyes wide. “You’re kidding me!”

“No. Father Owen is coming over to bless the house.”

“Bless the house?” he repeated, incredulously. “What’s
that
going to achieve?”

Melissa shrugged. “What harm can it do?”

* * * *

The building looked ugly, foreboding. It was large, looming, and over-powering. They had driven through a long, winding, graveled driveway, surrounded by large trees that shook under the heavy rain continuing to scatter beneath brooding clouds.

They pulled up outside of the building. The parking lot was almost full. Melissa guessed that they were owned by staff on duty. Saint Margaret’s was far from town—isolated—and she thought that anyone employed there would have to drive to get anywhere near the place.

The engine shuddered to a halt as Melissa removed her keys from the ignition. “Here we are,” she said, staring up at the unit.

It was large. Three stories high. Black windows stared at them like dark eyes, and Melissa shivered. “This place is like something from a horror movie. What kind of patients stay here?”

“Mentally ill,” Josh said.

“I know! I mean…there’s no dangerous people, are there?”

Josh looked over at her and smiled. “Hannibal Lector? No. This unit is for acute, mental health illness, meaning you’ll find people with schizophrenia, paranoia, depression, and suicidal tendencies, but no criminals. You’d have to go over to a forensic unit to see the real hard cases.”

“Thank God,” Melissa said, pulling open the car door. “Are you coming, then?”

They both walked up a short flight of steps to a set of large, double doors. There was a buzzer on the right hand side, and Melissa pressed it. Suddenly, a voice crackled over the intercom: “Hello. How can I help you?”

“I’m a nurse. I travelled over to see a patient you have here.”

“I’ll open the door,” the voice replied curtly. Another buzz crackled, and the door was released. Melissa pulled it open, and they both stepped in, Josh stepping behind her as she approached a large desk in front of them. She guessed it had to be the reception.