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Discretion

Abstain from that which you wish to not see until consequence removes your blindfold.

By Tim WrightPublished 3 years ago 7 min read
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"Oftentimes, past experiences that induce trauma often haunt us in our present. The phantoms that stalk you now have taken a mental foothold. Frank, if you would commit to consistent sessions-"

Frank's hand shot up to her mouth, his disgruntled expression a sign of warning, "You don't believe me, do you? Of course not...I used to be a skeptic too, but I saw what I saw. Hell, every one of my senses down to my core refused it, but when you've had the devil come after you like a hungry fox after a fat hen, you'd believe too!"

"I'm not trying to discredit what you went through, I-"

"Lemme guess, you're just gonna disassemble my past to figure out why I'm freaking out! There's nothing to speak of!" Frank raised his voice louder.

"Frank, witnessing a murder first hand is no light issue for the mind, especially, as your wife mentioned, if you've already had issues with overcoming past demons." The therapist said, hoping to diffuse Frank's escalating anger.

"Yeah, addiction. I'm two years sober, alright! Haven't touched the bottle since."

"Sometimes, and hear me out, addiction can manifest into other things. Just because you have left alcohol behind doesn't mean those unwanted behaviors aren't being transferred elsewhere. Fear, paranoia, anger...maybe the event triggered these latent behaviors."

"Psshh! I'm done here." Frank growled, throwing the door behind him as he stormed out.

***

"Uh huh...yes...thank you, sheriff. I'll call you if things get out of hand again. He's coming up to the door, mhmm, bye." Melissa quickly hung up the phone to greet Frank as he huffed through the front door. "How was therapy, dear?"

"What'd I say about that shrink? She wouldn't get it. Well, surprise! She just analyzed my past experiences to predict my present state of being. Typical." he scoffed. "Hey, do me a favor? Don't book anymore of those timewasting, paper-brained, shrink sessions, k?"

"Of course." she said, embracing her husband's rigid frustration, "I'm sorry I scheduled it...I'm just trying to help however I can."

Frank received her, holding her tightly. "I know...I know. You still believe me, right? I mean, I'm not crazy or anything, but if I am, please tell me now."

Worry fluttered across her face as she discreetly buried it into his shoulder. "I believe you."

"I'm going out for some air." Frank said as he strolled out of the house, following along the fence line of the property.

He would be a while. Whenever Frank 'needed some air', it meant he needed to go smoke half a pack of cigarettes. He would walk the many acres of orchard and woods to decompress, but also to hide his bad habit from their children. It'd be an hour before he returned, enough time to decide what to do with the package received for Frank. It had just arrived before his return from therapy and while normally there would be no issue, this heavy, brown box was full of random tools for his work, but at the bottom, a paper wrapped parcel was bound tightly with caution tape and without any labels. Drugs, again? Melissa carefully placed the mysterious package on the kitchen table and sat facing the window, one eye on the item, the other, watching for Frank.

What if it's nothing, but what if it is drugs? If she opened it, he would know. However, she could always report the drugs to the police and if it isn't anything to be concerned about, then surely he wouldn't mind her opening the package. Melissa's heart grew heavy as she weighed risk against discovery, potential heartache against the prospect of peace. Under the building torment of curiosity, she grabbed the package and carefully cut across the center. A shuddering sigh broke the tense air as she looked upon the contents.

"Not drugs." she exhaled with relief.

Melissa, now feeling secure in her actions, decided to pry further. There were many, random items and a paperback guide jumbled together within the cushioning bubble wrap. A silver crucifix, a bag of blessed salt, holy water, and various dried plants for 'cleansing'. She flipped through the short guidebook, which was filled with prayers and steps needed to purify and/or exorcise a person, thing, or place. As she went to toss the book, her eyes caught a piece of the text reading, "...if all else should fail against the possessed, contain the entity with blessed salt and destroy with purging, Holy Fire.".

The instructional paperback slowly slid out of her trembling hands as her eyes remained hard fixed in the space in front of her. A dry, ball of fear painfully traveled down her throat, sinking into the pit of her chest.

"Sweetie?" she called out to the silent house.

No response was given. She must be out back by the old barn as there was no sight or sound of their daughter. In fact, reflected Melissa, Frank left without taking any cigarettes for his walk. Her chair tumbled across the floor behind her as she went to dart out of the door, but she stopped. If Frank was demonizing their daughter, she needed help from the sheriff, but she needed to give a more pressing reason than an exorcism kit and a smokeless smoke break. She needed to set up Frank, no, intercept him before his plans were initiated. Melissa grabbed the cordless phone from the tiled countertop, mashing the digits in a self induced panic.

"Hi, sheriff? It's Melissa. Frank, I think...I think he's going to harm Holly. I discovered a secret he's been hiding and it involves burning the life out of our little girl. Sheriff, he's blaming Holly for everything that has happened! Please, get her as soon as you can!" She sobbed as she hung up and flew across the green lawn towards the back pasture where the old barn was.

To her overwhelming joy, Melissa saw their daughter, Holly, skipping from the barn through the pear orchard. Flooded with emotion, Melissa scooped up Holly and gave her a tearful hug.

"Mommy, are you ok?" Holly innocently inquired.

Drying her eyes, Melissa smiled. "Yes, sweetie, I just love you so much! Where's your daddy?"

"He's at the barn. He fussed me for being there alone, but I told him that I play there all of the time. I told him that sometimes you go there too."

Melissa set Holly down and straightened her back with concern as her jaw flexed. "Sweetie, run along to the house like dad wants...I'll be back soon. Why don't you get a bath goin', k?"

"Okie dokie!" Holly continued skipping along, oblivious to her mother's plight.

Squeezing through the dragging, dilapidated gate, Melissa, determined, though anxious, walked down the familiar, overgrown road to the old barn. She saw Frank, who was surveying the area around the structure. She cautiously approached him as he took notice of her presence.

"Findin' anything?" she tried sparking conversation.

"Nothing, well, nothing new at least. The deputies swept the place pretty good a few months back." He held up a handful of wilted flowers. "Look at this. Holly's apparently been playing house in this old haunt."

"Maybe we should get her a playhouse to put in the yard then?"

Her suggestion seemed to fall on deaf ears. "Holly also mentioned that you come here often?"

Melissa's hair stood up on the back of her back as a chill ran down her spine. "Just to get Holly back to the house. Why would I want to spend time in this old thing?"

Frank frowned, nodding his head in approval. "Yeah, well, best we keep her by the house. This place isn't safe and God forbid we lose another child...or if I lost you."

"So, you don't blame her?" Melissa's hands grew cold and clammy.

"Who?" he asked in confusion, "Holly? Of course not! It's this place! I tell you...its cursed and if we're gonna survive this, we need to get rid of it...and do it the right way. I've already been in touch with Father Matthew."

Frank's eyes shifted from his wife to a handful of khaki clad police officers approaching the couple.

"Excuse us, is there a problem?" the sheriff asked as he glanced over at Melissa as she then glanced back at Frank. "Sir, we've been informed by your therapist that you need to come in for further questioning."

"What?! Does a therapist have that kind of power?" Frank said in surprise.

"Well, it's more of a psychological evaluation from your involvement with the murder of Deputy Carson." After you've been processed, there's a chance that you'll be free to go and this case can be closed for good."

"And if I'm not free to go?"

"As said, then the case can be closed for good." the sheriff replied.

Frank shook his head in disbelief, but obeyed the summons. As they took their leave, the sheriff gave one last look at Melissa and with a quick, assuring nod, they departed with Frank in the backseat of a patrol car.

Melissa began to feel sick to her stomach. Maybe she was the one at fault? Either way, she wasn't sure how this whole mess could continue...she just couldn't bear it anymore. She turned back to the barn, looking it up and down with confliction bearing down on her.

"No. No more. You will never hurt us again." With those agonizing, but truthful words, Melissa returned to the house and to Holly.

coping
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About the Creator

Tim Wright

Just a full time massage therapist, husband, dad, and game master trying his hand out with this thing called writing :)

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