- Chapter 55 -

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Blood, piss, and rot - the smell hit me the moment Damian opened the door. The room was in shambles. The mattress was torn from the bed, sheets wrinkled up and torn on the floor, the bedside table overturned, bits of broken wood scattered about...long, deep scratch marks in the walls, as if from some great beast. But where-

There. Standing in the corner with his face to the wall. Naked, covered in splotchy purple and red bruises across his back. Hanson Dagwood.

Damian put himself in front of me, quietly and swiftly. Hanson was swaying slightly, his shoulders shuddering as he drew long, trembling breaths, almost as if he was crying. A strange blackish smoke lingered around him, curling about his body like a snake then disappearing just as quickly. It seemed that every time I blinked I lost focus on it.

A weak little rat. Pretending to be big.

"Hanson," Damian called out to him. "I am speaking to the man named Hanson Dagwood and none other. If you're here, please respond to me."

The man moaned, curling his face down into his hands. His bones were jutting from his skin - he looked as if he had not eaten in days.

Nothing but oil and wine, oil and wine, oil and wine...

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the Gray One crouching in the corner. It was an illusion. I had to ignore her. Ignore her soft, breathy chuckles that felt as if they were right on the nape of my neck.

"Hanson...my name is Hanson...I think..." the man sobbed, voice muffled in his hands. "Please don't come near me. I'll only...only hurt you..."

Damian took a step toward him carefully. "You won't hurt me, Hanson. I'm here to help you, to protect you. But you need to listen to me very carefully. You need to listen to my voice and only my voice, do you understand?"

"So many voices," he groaned, and slowly turned. His bloodshot eyes had heavy dark bags beneath them. His lips were chewed, pulverized purplish meat. His wide eyes flickered between Damian and I. "Always voices. Voices...voices...voices. Can't listen to all of them can you?" With the last sentence, his eyes fell on me with grave finality. He smiled, revealing a mouth full of jaggedly broken and missing teeth. "I listened when they told me to pull out my teeth. Did you?"

"No," I whispered. Damian stepped closer to him.

"My voice is the only one you need listen to now, Hanson," he said. "I'm going to help you. I'm going to free you from the voices that are tormenting you. Please lie down. On the floor, or mattress, whichever you prefer. Allow yourself to relax so you can focus on my words."

Hanson frowned, distrust contorting his features as his gaze slowly shifted from me to Damian. "Your words? And why yours? Who are you?"

"I'm an exorcist, and a doctor. Your mother called me here to help you."

So many of you. Filthy rat. Don't hurt me, let me in. You're not welcome.

The voices echoed rapidly back and forth, making me wince. The expression was not lost on Hanson, whose wide eyes flickered back to me. "Names, names, names," he muttered. "So many names. Won't you tell me yours?"

My name hovered on the tip of my tongue, but Damian beat me to speak. "My names is James Kelly. This is my assistant, Samantha West."

"Lies," Hanson shook his head rapidly. "Lies, lies, and more lies. Lying in bed with a killer." He grinned widely, still staring at me. "Lying in bed with a killer."

Something flashed before my eyes. A hallucination - a vision - a memory. Blood. Spurting blood everywhere. A human heart gripped in a bloody hand. I gasped sharply and stepped back, clutching my head. What was that? It had been no memory of mine...

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