TDIHH: Chapter 1

Deep down, I had always believed that there were supernatural things in the world. I’m not a religious person, but now that I’m thinking about it, I wish I were. But would God have even accepted an abomination like me if I asked? Surely not. There must not be a place in heaven for demons and monsters.

                In the beginning it had been so much fun, realizing I was different. Isn’t it ingrained in us as children to want to be supernatural or have magical powers? For me, it wasn’t just a childish daydream anymore. It was reality, but it wasn’t very pretty.

                All I could see were bodies hanging, seeming to go on for miles and miles. And blood. So much blood. I covered my face, trying not to see the bodies hanging before me. Someone was screaming…and I realized it was me.

One

 

I stifled an exasperated sigh when we pulled up into a gravel parking lot off Highway 17. “Oh my god, this is going to be so much fun!” one of my sister’s friends, Maggie I think her name was, practically screamed in my ear.

                “This lady better not tell me that me and Scott are going to divorce in a year, or I will seriously hurt someone!” my sister shouted dramatically, turning in her seat so she could look at her friends in the back, all while holding her bachelorette crown in place.

                Jessie is technically my half sister, but I never call her that. It seems wrong to refer to her as my half sister as though I consider her less than the real thing. I never liked telling people anyway, because the follow-up question is always, “Well, who’s your dad, then?” Since I don’t know who my father is and neither does my mom, that conversation always ends in awkward silence. When I was born, Bruce, my mother’s on-and-off boyfriend, was there, ready to assume the responsibility of dad even though I wasn’t his. They each recall the story a little differently, but one thing Bruce and my mom can completely agree on when it comes to their early years is that when I was born, everything changed. When Bruce held me for the first time in that hospital in Charleston, South Carolina, eyes brimming with tears, my mom knew that he was the one for her. No one else would ever compare. I whole-heartedly agree with that. Even though I am a little curious about my birth father, Bruce has always been and will always be my dad. Cara Marie Hansen, they named me.

                They got married a couple months after my birth and a year later, my sister Jessie was born. Oh, what can I say about Jessie? Jessie is beautiful. She has a lot of my mom in her: blue eyes, soft features, and admired by everyone around her. Then she has Bruce’s easily tanned skin, which further accentuates the paleness of her highlighted hair and blueness of her eyes. Through high school she was on top of her class, head cheerleader, and Miss Popularity. She did everything right by my parents as if it were just natural to her. She worked at Bruce’s concrete company as a secretary, something I’ve never been interested in doing, while also attending nursing school. Now she has a career and she’s getting married. So, she’s basically perfect. Very, very different from me.

                I, on the other hand, have never really felt beautiful, especially next to her and hell, even next to my mom! The only physical trait I’ve inherited that resembles either of them is light blond hair, which I usually keep at shoulder length. I didn’t get my mother’s oval face or soft features, but more of a square face and dramatic features. My eyes are a little too far apart to be standard pretty, and they are black. Not brown, but black. My skin is blindingly pale, and I get burned so easily I was thought to be allergic to sunlight. I’m not, but I might as well be. And living in a sunny town where human interaction revolves around going to the beach and going boating has made my social life even less existent. But what I hate most about my looks is my height. I’m six feet and skinny as a beanpole. I don’t have poise and grace like some leggy girls. No, I’m just awkward and tall. I still cringe remembering middle school, where I was the tallest kid in my class, even taller than the boys. I didn’t seem to develop like the other girls, but just kept on growing taller! So, there was no shortage of ammo for bullies to throw at me growing up. I don’t like to complain, but it is a little depressing always being in your sister’s shadow. If you can be in your sister’s shadow when you’re a head taller than she, that is.

                I do have good things to say about myself, though. Not to blow my own horn, but I am gifted musically, enough so that I’ve been able to play almost every instrument I’ve picked up since I was a child. Despite my family believing I was a musical child prodigy, no one besides them has ever recognized my talent. For example, I was in marching band and entered competitions with my high school, but though our school always placed high, I was one of the few to not get a music scholarship. It’s not that I’m looking for everyone to pat me on the back, by any means; I just want to feel like I have a place in the world. I don’t want to be my sister or have everyone’s admiration. I guess I just want to know what it’s like not being invisible.

                But all things considered, I have a lot to be grateful for. I have an apartment in the city that would be enviable to most my age, which I pay for by waitressing and bartending, and I have a wonderful family. I consider my sister Jessie to be my best friend, though lately we haven’t spent much time together, because she met Scott, her soon-to-be-husband. But she’s happy and I’m not resentful… except for the fact that I was suckered into being the designated driver, AKA babysitter, for her bachelorette party.

                “Oh, this lady is amazing! I’m sure she will say that you and Scott will be together forever, just like we all know you will!” gushed another one of Jessie’s friends. I rolled my eyes. Even though I agreed their relationship would last, I couldn’t take much more booze-fueled babbling. It was almost three o’ clock in the morning, and we had been out at the bars all night. Still, the torture continued and we had one last stop: a “Psychic Vision Center” in the straight-up ghetto of Charleston. Yippee!

                I couldn’t help but let out a tired sigh when we parked at our last destination. Well, our last destination before I’d be taking them all home. Ugh, kill me. “Here we are, girls.” I had meant to sound happy or excited, but it came out as a grumble.

                They all squealed, a wordless sound that pierced my ears, and hurried out of the car, practically stumbling over each other. A red neon sign in the shape of a hand hung above the small building with “Lady Sage’s Psychic Readings” under it. As dark as the windows were, I would have assumed the place was closed, but for another neon sign in the window that flashed open. I vaguely remembered that the building had been a chiropractor’s office a few years back.

                “This lady is so amazing,” said Michelle, the one who had dragged us here. “She told me I was about to have a new, like, change in my life and I totally got the job I wanted.”

                “Oh my god, that is crazy,” said another one of Jessie’s friends, a short blond that had introduced herself as Alyssa.

                They all clutched each other and hobbled on their high heels as they walked toward the building, my sister adjusting the plastic crown on her head for the millionth time that night, and I resisted the urge to groan as I followed.

                When we walked in, the smell of incense overwhelmed my nose and a little bell rang above our heads, singing our arrival. There was no overhead lighting, but the room was lit with countless candles flickering in every possible space, making me wonder if that was a serious fire hazard.

                “Hello, my children!” A woman sang from where she sat behind the counter, surrounded by candles. She was a heavier-set woman with a large amount of frizzy, brown hair with very visible grays throughout it. When she came around the counter, I was surprised to see that she hadn’t been sitting at all; she was just very short. She looked the part of a psychic in a puffy white shirt, a cloth belt tied underneath her large breasts, and a billowing crushed velvet skirt. All she needed was a purple cloth headband and maybe some gold coins jingling from her belt and she would be the perfect gypsy psychic reader.

                “I am Lady Sage, and I will be your psychic guide this evening,” she said in a sing song voice, with a dramatic sweep of her hand. “Are you ladies the Hansen party?”

                “Yes, yes, that’s us. I’m Jessie Hansen,” my sister blurted out, her words slightly jumbled together with both drunkenness and excitement.

                Lady Sage gracefully kept her smile in place, though I noticed it faltered just a bit.

                “Would you like us to pay now, or would you like us to wait till the end?” I chimed in.

                “Payments first, my children, please,” she said, beaming at me, and I think she could tell that I, at least, wasn’t drunk.

                “Four, all separate!” said Michelle, the one who had been here before.

                Lady Sage’s eyes rolled over each one of us for a second. “Not five?” There were five of us, after all.

                “No,” Jessie said, rolling her eyes. “My sister doesn’t want a reading.” The last part she said very uncivilly.

                “I am fine,” I said quickly. Just get me into my bed, please, I thought.

“Are you sure?” Lady Sage asked.

                “I’m OK,” I said. If all else fails, use different wording. I didn’t believe in psychic mumbo jumbo, but maybe under different circumstances I would have been curious enough to get a reading. As it was, I was sober and tired, and more interested in sleep than anything else.

                “All right,” she said, shrugging. “Miss Hansen, the lovely bride to be, will you step into this room…” She gestured to an open door to the right. “The others, you may sit in the chairs behind you, or feel free to go into the room on your left for some items for sale.”

                I followed Jessie’s friends into the room of “items for sale,” while Jessie went into the room with Lady Sage. The room that had once been clean and had a chiropractor’s table now appeared to have been long neglected, giving it a totally different feel. The vibes the room gave off were those of a disorganized room in someone’s house that you weren’t supposed to be in. Trespassing, it almost felt like.

                One floor lamp bathed the room with a yellow glow. I think it was the only actual electric light in the entire place. A sign on a nearby stand looked like it belonged at a fast food restaurant, but instead of saying “Line starts here,” it said “You steal it, and you take bad luck.” I huffed at that. That didn’t actually deter anyone from stealing, did it? Two tables took up most of the room, stacked with books and random little trinkets. There were books claiming to be spell books, little jars of spices and herbs, and a lot of other things that seemed to have no specific order to their placement. I finally got bored looking through the books and sat in the candle-lit, thickly incensed lobby. Jessie’s friends chattered to each other, flipping through magazines, completely ignoring me, which was fine. Each took her turn with the psychic and came back out with a little story of what Lady Sage had said.

                “She said Scott and I will last,” Jessie said happily. “I knew she would.”

“She said I’m gonna marry rich,” said Maggie, the first friend.

                “I totally get the feeling that she is the real deal,” Jessie said.

“I know!” said Maggie, and they squeezed each other’s hands and made an excited squeal. I rolled my eyes to myself.

                “Cara!” said Michelle. “It’s your turn!”

“I didn’t pay, remember?” I sounded grumpy even to my own ears.

                “Too bad, she says she’ll give you a reading for free!” she said, ushering me up out of my seat. “You’re going!” They all gave a drunken cheer.

                I opened my mouth to protest, but my sister pushed on the small of my back toward the open door. “Go ahead and just do it! There is nothing to be afraid of!” But her warning tone said, Don’t insult the lady.

                “I’m not afraid!” I said, but I knew there was no reason to argue at this point. Better not to express my true feelings. I’m sick of all of you and I want to go home. Lady Sage stepped to the side to let me through the door, and I was very aware of how much I towered over her as I walked into the room.

                The other rooms had been small, but this room was tiny and I wondered if it had been a walk-in closet in its former life. There was just enough room for two people to maneuver around a small table and two chairs, but she had managed to stuff lit candles in almost every other space. I suddenly felt anxious, and I chalked it up to being in such a tiny room that could be engulfed in flames at any given moment.

                “I know you don’t believe, Cara Marie Hansen,” she said, shutting the door behind us. Light flickered and cast a strange, ugly shadow on her face when she looked back at me. “Almost no one believes when they come. But that will change.”

                How did she known my full name? I wondered. Had the girl that had set up our appointment given our names? It wouldn’t be too hard to find in this day in age, especially in a small town like this, but I guessed she would reply with superstitious crap if I asked, so I said nothing.

                “Please, sit,” she said, motioning to the farthest chair from the door. I tried not to sigh and stepped around an arrangement of lit candles on the floor to sit in the chair she had indicated. When I sat I noticed the display she had laid on the table: a stack of cards, along with an honest-to-god crystal ball. I don’t know why, but I had to stop myself from barking out a laugh at seeing the crystal ball, maybe because I’d always assumed they were just something fabricated by Hollywood. She sat across from me, her short, stocky body almost completely blockading the entrance. Her thick arms on each side almost touched the walls; brown and gray hair cascaded around her.

                No wonder she sits closest to the door; she can’t fit around the table! I thought, then felt a little bad for thinking it. I was being cranky.

                She picked up her stack of oversized cards and started shuffling them, staring into my face. The laughter inside me quickly died away and was replaced with discomfort at her intrusive gaze. Something about her gave me the willies. “First I will assess your personality and past as I can see it. Then we will go on to your future,” she said as she placed cards on the table, face down.

                “Okay,” I answered.

When she set the remainder of the deck aside there were eight cards spread out between us, four in a straight line with two above them and two beneath them. She flipped over the middle two cards and I was awed at the beautiful detailed pictures on them. They were hand painted with gold details here and there, one of them a lady with a flower crown and the other one a hand holding a sword. “Your center cards represent your personality traits that are currently the strongest or most prominent. These sometimes change depending on what you’re learning about yourself or going through at the time. Your center cards are the Ace of Swords and the Empress,” she said, touching each card. “The Ace of Swords, like all cards, could be interpreted many different ways, but based on my first impressions and intuitive thoughts, I believe this means you are a brave person. Even though you may not feel like you are brave, I see you being a person who continuously sticks out her neck for other people.”

                That didn’t seem right. I’d like to think it was right.

“The Empress represents creativity in a lot of cases,” she continued. “I’m seeing that you are a creative person, but more specifically, musically inclined. I see you playing instruments constantly. All types of instruments.”

                I was taken aback, and I know my eyebrows shot up in surprise. When she looked up at my face, she smiled, my look of shock confirming her assumptions.

                “Your outer cards indicate traits that are more deeply ingrained and not likely to change,” she said, flipping two cards, each on opposite ends of the spread. “These are the Queen of Wands reversed and the Knight of Swords. I’m seeing that you are a woman who is driven by a desire to be helpful and kind toward others, especially your family. I believe you are very passionate about your family. You are fairly upbeat and cheerful, though not overly so.”

                I snorted at that. I certainly wasn’t overly cheerful and upbeat tonight!

“Are you ready to go to your past?” she asked.

                “Sure,” I said, smiling. I was starting to enjoy this card reading. I was liking my cards, and I hoped she was right about me.

                She flipped the two cards closest to me. The first card she flipped had a drawing of what looked to be eight sticks. The second card showed a dark, cloaked figure with his head bent down, as if sad, with five cups. Three cups were spilled before him and two were upright and whole behind him. Of course I knew nothing about tarot cards, but the character looking dark and depressed bent over the spilled cups looked like a bad card to have.

                “Your cards representing the past are the Eight of Wands and Five of Cups. When the Eight of Wands appears, nothing seems to be moving ahead in your life. This card indicates that you have been frustrated and tired of waiting for a long time. I see you putting yourself out there and never getting anything back in return. You don’t have much of a love life to speak of, and I don’t see that you have many friends, for that matter…” I flinched at that piece of hurtful truth. How could she possibly know that? Did something about the look of me give her that impression and she’d made a lucky guess? Or was she really somehow getting a glimpse of my past?

                “This other card,” she continued, pointing to the dark figure bent over his spilled cups, “the Five of Cups implies that you’ve been too focused on the negative instead of the positive. I believe that you view yourself in a bad light, like you are not pretty or good enough for people. I see you trying to live up to the expectations of your parents, and you feel that you’ll never succeed at that. I’m glad to see that this card is in your past and not your future. I can see you’ve been struggling for a long time, but I encourage you to try to leave those negative feelings behind you.”

                I nodded at her, trying to listen, but still a little distracted by the very plain card with eight sticks, wondering how it could have possibly indicated that I didn’t have much of a love life to speak of. Surely my sister or one of her friends had told her?

                “Let’s go to your future cards, shall we?” she said, turning the last two cards closest to her. I stiffened involuntarily at the sight of the last two cards. Death and the Devil, they read. The Death card had a skeleton in knight’s armor riding a horse. People prayed before him, for mercy I suppose, and people lay dead on the ground underneath his horse. The Devil card showed the devil, obviously, but with two naked demon-like humans chained to his seat beneath him, one male and one female. Before I could even think of what I was doing, I leaned away from the cards as if they might burn me, letting discomfort show plainly on my face.

                “Oh!” she said, sounding surprised until she collected herself. “Don’t be afraid of the Death card. The Death card usually means transformation or a new beginning, and looking at your past, a new beginning is what we’d want to see.” Her words were as soothing as milk and honey, but the slight pucker between her brows seemed like a warning.

                “The Devil card…” she paused for a moment, tapping a finger to her lip while thinking. “The Devil card is another card that isn’t as ominous as it may seem. A lot of times it means internal struggle or trickery. I’m seeing…” She was quiet again, but the look on her face showed her confusion, and the way she looked down at the card, I wondered if she was seeing things that I couldn’t see. Hell, she’d figured out I’d never had a boyfriend from eight sticks!

                She moved the finger that had been over her lips to gently trace the shape of the devil on the card, and I watched her in expectant silence. Without warning, she jerked in her chair and her head snapped backwards at a painful-looking speed. I jumped out of pure surprise, and I caught a glimpse of white where her eyes rolled into the back of her skull. I stared at her in horrified amazement and before I could ask what was happening, her head fell back forward, her eyes meeting mine. They looked too large, bulging out of her head with too much white visible. I could almost see my reflection in those too-wide, fearful eyes. Her breath came out in heavy gasps.

                “Are you okay?” I asked, reaching a hand out as if to comfort her or steady her, but not completely closing the distance. She looked as if she’d just seen a ghost—or like she was still seeing one!

                Her voice came out as a whispered hiss. “A darkness…a darkness approaches you. He is very close. Coming.” The candles that surrounded us seemed to dim and I could see nothing but her shadowed face in the sudden darkness. The hair on the back of my neck stood and threatened to jump off my body, and I thought if she was trying to scare me, she was doing a damn good job.

                “I’d like to stop now,” I said, and my voice came out in a low squeak.

                “A demonic presence straight from hell itself!” she continued, her dark eyes boring into mine. She looked like a demon herself in that moment as shadows distorted the look of disgust on her round face. Her eyes focused more, and I realized she was aiming the look of disgust toward me… But why?

                “You!” she yelled and jumped up into a standing position, flinging her chair back and toppling over some candles. Luckily the excess wax spread along the floor and extinguished the flames on impact. I was surprised at how fast she could move. “You’re one of them!” she breathed.

                I wanted to ask “One of what?” but my fear and shock overwhelmed my curiosity. This lady is clearly insane, I decided, wanting to believe that instead of believing that she had seen something horrible in my future. I suddenly wanted to be far, far away from this room. My insides felt as cold as ice.

                “Are we done?” I was glad my voice had recovered and I didn’t sound like a cowering girl this time.

                There was a moment of silence before she said, very calmly, “Yes.”

She seemed recovered, her face a smooth mask that showed no hint of her outburst just a few seconds before. But her hands were shaking, even as she adjusted her skirt, and I wasn’t fooled. Something had scared her, and I was too stunned and frightened, myself, to ask what.

                Suddenly her voice sounded cheerful. “Expect a new change and maybe some internal struggles in your near future! Nothing to worry about!” she said to me, but as she quickly swept from the room I knew she had said it for everyone else’s benefit, not mine. “Good night, everyone! I hope you ladies had a wonderful evening,” she continued in her sing-song voice, wasting no time opening the front door and holding it open for us to exit through.

                I walked out first, passing the other girls as they glanced up at me from their seats with expectant smiles on their faces, psychic magazines in hand. I couldn’t help but notice in my peripheral vision that Lady Sage cringed back from me when I walked past her. I caught a few confused glances from the other girls just before I stepped out onto the porch into the muggy July heat. I could hear my sister and friends scrambling up out of their seats and murmuring their thanks as I waited, staring out toward the empty highway. How had she known I’d never had much of a love life? How had she known I played a lot of instruments? Those two predictions were so strangely accurate that someone before me must have told her them. Maybe I could brush her reading aside, but I’d never forget the look in her wide eyes when she had whispered, “A darkness approaches you. He is very close. Coming.” I shivered involuntarily, though the air was uncomfortably thick and warm around me like an unwanted blanket.

                When they were all out, surrounding me and whispering amongst themselves, the door slammed and one of the girls jumped and made a surprised yip. I heard, more than saw, the Open neon sign in the window flicker and die as the plug was pulled.

                “Wow, what was all that about?” asked one of Jessie’s friends; I wasn’t sure who.

                “I feel like we just got kicked out of there,” muttered Jessie. “Did that seem a little rude to you guys?” Good, someone else had noticed, and they all seemed a little less drunk.

                I started walking toward the car, leading the way. “We definitely did just get kicked out of there,” I agreed, then instantly regretted saying it.

                My sister and her friend Maggie almost ran to catch up with me in their high heels while the others lagged behind. “What happened?” Jessie asked.

                I ignored her question and asked one of my own. “Jessie, did you tell her I had never had a boyfriend?”

                “No!” she exclaimed, almost missing a step, then walked more quickly to catch up to me. “I never said a thing about you!”

                “She knew things,” I said, giving her a hard look.

“She knew things about all of us,” Jessie said defensively.

                “What was she yelling about?” Maggie interjected, sounding a little too interested for my liking. “It got really quiet in there and all of the sudden it sounded like she yelled and there was a loud bang.” Of course they would have heard Lady Sage yell and the chair falling, knocking over candles when she had jumped up. But I didn’t want to explain.

                “Nothing,” I lied as I unlocked the doors to my sister’s Toyota 4Runner and slipped into the driver’s seat.

                Jessie wouldn’t let up. “Something happened in there,” she said, sliding into the passenger seat next to me. “Tell me, Cara!”

                I sighed loudly to buy myself more time. If I told them how weird she had acted and that apparently some dark presence was going to come into my life, I’d never hear the end of it. Every time I saw them, it would be “Have you experienced the dark presence yet?” That wouldn’t be ideal, considering I wanted to forget about it. I wanted to forget about the fear I had felt when I was in that room.

                “The noise was me,” I said suddenly. “I thought I saw a bug.”

“You thought you saw a bug?” Jessie repeated with barefaced skepticism. I could feel her stare as I checked the mirrors for something else to look at, so my eyes wouldn’t give away my lie.

                “Yes, just a bug,” I said, flashing her the most innocent smile I could muster.

                Everyone piled in the car then, their voices low and thick with sleepiness. I glanced back to make sure they were all wearing their seatbelts before I pulled out of the gravel parking lot. Jessie looked away finally, and though she didn’t believe my bug excuse, I think she was too tired to care.

                As I pulled out of the parking spot, I felt the weight of someone’s gaze on me and I took one last glance at the building. There was a finger pulling down on one of the blinds, just separating them enough for someone to peek an eye through and stare as we left. Another shiver escaped me and I drove away.