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Six months after The Night
Eight months ago, when Teresa had awoken in a hospital with a severe concussion, most of the memories of what had happened were gone. She knew she’d done something terribly wrong. The police guarding her hospital room door had told her a few things.
“Your husband is dead. Your daughter is in protective custody.”
“Tiffany?” Teresa had said. “When can I see her?”
The officer had shaken his head. “No, Maggie.”
“She’s not my daughter,” Teresa had said. “She’s Derrick’s daughter.” She’d looked out the window at the familiar view of the Rocky Mountains. “Where am I?”
“Mountain View,” the officer had told her.
Teresa now sat in a rocking chair in the common room, gazing out the window. An old leather-bound book, called The Divine Messenger, lay in her lap. She didn’t know who sent it, only that it had been wrapped in paper with her name scrawled in black marker on the top. A red ribbon marked a page two-thirds in. Teresa opened the book and trailed her finger down the page. She’d read the inscription so many times, she had it memorized.
The seven mortal shells shall seek their souls and hunt the one who stole. And in their time of rest, they shall lay down upon the earth to be near to their master.
The page had a crude illustration of a pit with the ‘mortal shells’ laying inside. An image from that night flashed in her mind, forever burned there. The Sheriff and—she squeezed her eyes shut—Derrick laying on top of Louise’s dead cats.
They really had chased her. Or, as the text said, hunted her. And they were in the pit resting, because that was as close as they could get to Yaldabaoth without crossing the barrier and burning up. That had to be it. She would tell her psychiatrist in a few minutes during their session. Her mind was clearer than it had been since they brought her here. Since The Night Yaldabaoth betrayed her.
A nurse came and guided Teresa to the therapy room.
“I’m ready to tell you the truth,” she said to her therapist, her smile stretching her chapped lips.
The doctor turned on his digital recorder and nodded at her.
She began by telling him about Mother’s desire to teach her to be a good wife, a good mother, and how social pressures got the best of her. Social pressures and Teresa’s desire to be the perfect wife and mother and how the loss of her child was more than she could handle.
Dr. Andrews nodded, his eyes shining and hopeful.
“When my child came to me and told me we could be happy again, I promised her I would do anything it took.” She nodded. “I stole their souls and gave them to a powerful being named Yaldabaoth. He would bring us all together again. We would be happy.” Her words drifted off when the doctor’s lips tensed. His eyes shifted to the notepad on his desk. A sharp exhale came from his nose as he jotted down notes.
He put the pen down and tented his fingers on the desk. “Is it possible,” he started, his voice tense and a little short. A voice Derrick would have used on her. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Is it possible you imagined any of this? Maybe you only thought they were chasing you because you were afraid of getting caught?”
Teresa didn’t answer right away. She absorbed his suggestion. What it implied. She’d told him everything she learned from Louise, about the secret organizations, and Maggie’s book. Louise torturing Bram in her basement. She was the town looney, not Teresa.
And still, he didn’t believe her. She looked over his shoulder out the window at the rain clouds gathering in the west.
“Yes,” she said. Her voice hitched. “Yes, that—that must be it.” She lifted her hand and wiped a tear away with her fingertips.
But, the dead did chase her. Her baby came to her. Yaldabaoth promised her life back. Yaldabaoth used her body and her mind. He betrayed her.
Her hand dropped from her cheek and came to rest on her swollen belly. One of the babies inside pushed against her palm.