The Nurse

The Nurse put some alcohol onto one of the pieces of cotton and begun to probe my wound. My whole body convulsed violently in response. “God that stings!” I whimpered trying to hold back the tears in my eyes.

“You’re doing great. You’re the toughest man I’ve treated,” he said. I started to laugh.

“Oh yeah, in all of the years you’ve been treating soldiers who have lost arms and legs, I am the toughest? I find that hard to believe,” I stated. The irony rolled my eyes for me.

“Are you calling me a liar?” He said with a straight face. We both stared at each other for a few seconds, then we erupted into laughter.

“Okay, I won’t flinch this time, I promise. My shoulder is going numb anyway.” I said.

“Fantastic,” he replied.

I scanned the room looking for any clues to uncover who this man was. A wooden box and two pictures, sat on top of the Nurse’s desk. The first picture is of the Nurse and another man in army fatigues. The two soldiers shaking hands in a desert landscape. The second picture is a ripped portrait of him and a young boy dressed in a black and white suit. “I assume you served as a medic?” I stated.

“You assume correctly. I spent eight years of my young adult life in the desert. Years I never will get back.” he coldly stated. “At least you made a friend over there.” I suggested consolingly.

“What? Oh yeah, the picture. We became close after I removed shrapnel about the size of a tangerine, out of his ass. Funny guy. He could make a suicide bomber laugh at gunpoint.” The Nurse chuckled.

“Are you guys still in touch?” I asked. He paused cleaning my wound, a scowl washed the jovial look off his face. His eyes locked with mine.

“How well can you keep a secret?” The Nurse asked.

“I’m the best, my parents still think my sister is a virgin.” I responded with a grin. He unleashed an uproarious belly laugh accompanied by a few stomps onto the carpet, shaking his office like an earthquake.

“That was a good one junior. I ask because if you tell anyone, it could end my job. I can tell you are a trustworthy kid. He’s my boyfriend. The school district doesn’t like homosexuals working closely with kids. They think if the district starts to hire gays, there would be a high possibility the gay would turn out to be a pedophile or pass on his sexuality to a student, like a disease or something,” he explained with a look of contempt on his wrinkled brow.

“I’ve never met someone that was gay before, or at least somebody who would admit he was. I was taught homosexuality is a lifestyle of sin and an abomination in God’s eyes. After meeting you, I can’t see why out of all the evil in the world, God would condemn a war-veteran, nice guy like you. Your secret is safe with me. I got your back,” I said as we exchanged a warm friendly smile.

“I was condemned the second I met Todd. I felt things for him I never had with my wife. Sorry you don’t want to hear this. There aren’t too many people I can tell about my sexuality, so the floodgates have opened. Sorry about that.” He said apologetically as he was wiping a tear out of his eye.

The Nurse pulled out a roll of gauze from his black bag. He unrolled the wound dressing, and begun to ravel my infliction inch by inch. An Ensuing silence filled the office. “Since he told a secret, can I tell a secret of my own?” I thought to myself. “I have something I’d like to tell you; can you promise not to tell anybody else? Let’s make a pact, if you tell my secret, I’ll tell yours?” I stated forcefully.

“Okay, I promise. Just consider me a priest. I mean the confessional seal part, not the altar boy scandal part.” He jested. He extended his hand towards me. “Shake on it?” He asked. I extended my hand to meet his. We shook hands firmly, while studying each other for signs of deception.

“It’s not about my sexuality or anything along those lines… I’m straight by the way,” I stuttered.

“Duly-noted, please continue,” he interjected.

Anxiety began to pump through my veins, as I search for the words to begin my first disclosure of my own personal demon. “I hear a voice from time to time. I thought I had a direct line to God. I know I sound schizophrenic right now, but I need you to hear me out before you say anything. I thought he was a divine being before he started to tell me to do evil things. Things which directly violate scripture. One night, the voice I thought was God, revealed its sinister true form – a fallen angel – who thirsts for my mental slavery.”

You Feel That?

My eyes wandered the classroom, examining a sea of smiling faces… My glance turned towards this angel with her finger in the air pointing to the heavens. She had creamy coffee eyes, long chocolate hair twisted around her finger tips, and ruby red lips cracking a half smile. Her aura intoxicated me, rendering my feet stuck to the carpet…

“Monica, can you show Andy your lecture notes? I’d really appreciate it,” Ms. Meadows requested. “Go ahead and take your seat, you’ve wasted enough of the class time Andy,” Ms. Meadows stated shrilly. I strolled over to the empty desk next to the most divine creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I pulled my backpack strap off my shoulder which grazed the freshly inflicted wound. My whole body tightly winced in pain. I punched the desk, trying to divert the pain from my shoulder to my hand.

“What’s your problem?” Monica whispered while leaning towards me. The sweet aroma permeating from her sprawling, dark marble hair, kicked the wind out of me as I searched for an appropriate response.

“Nothing, It’s just been a rough morning,” I muttered. She lifted her pink gel pen and poked my torn shoulder. “SHIT!!!” I yelped like a dog.

“Sorry! I didn’t know, are you okay? What happened to your shoulder?” Monica hastily asked. “I fell on my shoulder on my way to class. I don’t think I have anymore skin covering it,” I said. “You should get that checked out by the nurse ASAP! Don’t want it to get infected.” Monica advised.

“You feel that? That’s me in your shoulder. I am pain. I am suffering. I will spread like the locusts I sent to Egypt, to bring Ramsey to his knees. Call me Wrath. You will know me well,” the voice hissed. I ripped open the health center’s door and slammed it behind me.

The Darkness

Jesus doesn’t even bother talking to me, all I hear are demons crawling through my brain like spiders cocooning their prey. “Lord Jesus, why have you abandoned me and cursed my brain to roam with the angels you casted out of the pearly gates? What can I do to become one of your faithful children again? Should I go to bible study more often? Should I convert a friend from school using your grace and love as guidance? Should I say “fuck” less? I’ll do whatever you ask me to do, please, just speak to me lord. I’m asking you as your humble child. Love you with all my heart, amen,” I pleaded.

I picked myself up off my knees, fell back onto my mattress and exhaled deeply. A deafening silence entered my room as I stared into the hole of deep despair for the first time in my adolescent life. God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit is my moral bedrock. Without Christ, there’s nothing except me and my demons. Was I talking with the darkness the whole time? The confusion sunk my whole body down into the mattress, like a fifty-pound weight. My eyelids felt like slabs of concrete, they began to descend to the bottom of my ocular cavities. 

“There is no other god than I. I will come in many forms over the course of your life. I’ll make sure you will suffer in this life to prepare you for your afterlife as my slave,” the demon growled. A cold shiver shot through my body like lightening traveling through a redwood.

“I have to go to sleep, I have to sleep this nightmare off before he consumes my body and soul. I don’t know how long this can go on for, before the demon wins.” Sleep…sleep…

The voice told me to do it

“The voice told me to do it,” an explanation which would consequently get me locked up in an asylum. I remember the first time I heard the voice, it was when I turned thirteen years old. The voice was a light whisper that made the light fuzz on young pubescent body stand up at full attention. The voice was muddled throughout the daytime, only to be amplified the moment the lights turned off near the witching hour. 

The voice I thought was God sharing with me the cruel realities of my existence. The omniscient presence judged my every impulse like the fire and brimstone God in the Old Testament. As I pulled the covers over my head, the perceived deity told me my family was judged by him and he sentenced them to death by my hand. He told me to get out of bed and get the steak knife from the kitchen.

I laid in bed curled up, trembling with fear. “Please, please, please don’t make me do this father. Thou shall not kill. Those were your words.” I said.

“I laid to waste Sodom and Gomorrah! Men, women, and children scorched by my mighty flames in a blink of an eye. Don’t lecture me with my own scripture! I command you, my child, or you will burn for eternity!” God said. My ears started to ring as if I was inside St. Francis’ Church bell after it’s been struck. I felt an insatiable fever envelop my body. My blanket ripped off me, as I glided into the kitchen.

As I gazed into the abyss of night, I saw the serrated knife glean under the light. I took the point in my ghastly grasp. I closed my eyes. A horror hurricane struck my head with a reflection of myself covered with gore. A gargantuan gargoyle with sprawling wings glided out from the shadows and put his hands on my shoulders. I gasped and my eyes flew open like window shutters. My legs turned into sand and I collapsed onto the cold marble tile. That’s him. I’ve been talking to a demon…

Introduction

Jay Cedar is an aspiring author living in foggy San Francisco. He started this blog to take you through the journey of his first novel as he writes it, posting passages weekly. If you enjoy reading horror and psychological thriller books, join him in a suspenseful odyssey about a boy dealing with his mental illness, struggling with family woes and searching for redemption.