I've occasionally consulted Nate Granger, my psychiatrist, for help in coping with panic attacks, the result of a turbulent childhood.
But I hadn't seen him in several years, that is, until I encountered Victoria Mercer, my graduate student and now, my nemesis.
I've always had a weakness for beautiful women and it's caused me a great deal of upset in my life. None of my relationships ever seem to go smoothly and when the inevitable parting occurs, I'm thrown into chaos and self-recrimination and inevitably end up on the other side of Nate's desk.
It could be worse I suppose because with Nate's help I always manage to get through, but this time is different―this time I'm dealing with someone else's demons and I'm oppressed.
I stop by the pharmacy on the way back to my condo and wait while the prescription Nate gave me is being prepared.
It's come to this― I'm actually on benzo's and having to see an exorcist next.
O tempore, O mores, I muse cynically, but smile inwardly knowing Nate would be impressed with my Latin aphorism.
But the truth is, I'm scared to death. I have no idea what this priest is going to do. Will he use bell, book and candle and cast demons out of me?
I almost hope he will because the thought of being demonized terrifies me even more than the Roman Ritual, and I have trouble enough sleeping alone in my condo and imagining the slightest sound signifies some eerie presence.
Yeah, too many years of Catholic mysticism and Irish superstitions passed on to me from my parents.
Not exactly one to grow on, but one I'm finding it difficult to grow out of and shake the dread of bumps in the night.
I finally get home, after picking up a take-out pizza and intend to bury my angst with wine and food and fall asleep on the couch...
But first, I have to text Graeme Winters, the Department Chair, and inform him of my leave of absence. Fortunately, it's a Friday and he'll have the weekend to arrange for a substitute to take over my lectures until I return.
It's not ideal, but hell, I didn't plan on spiritual warfare and the last thing I want to do is confront Victoria Mercer―I don't think I could handle her unholy heat or the stress of playing keep away from her dark friends.
I actually feel relieved when I finally close the door of my condo and hurriedly text Graeme about my sick leave.
A burden seems to lift off me and I discover I'm actually famished.
I immediately set to work devouring the pizza and sloshing down way too much cab sav, but hey, it's been a stressful day and I'm entitled to let loose and unwind....
Well, that's the story I tell myself, but I'm so exhausted I fall asleep watching the news and when I awaken it's three in the morning and the apartment is dark and filled with sinister whispers that make my hair stand on end.
I'm so terrified, I'm frozen and couldn't move if I wanted to flee, but clearly that's impossible with shadowy figures surrounding me.
