The Sensitives Read online

  “My daddy molested me,” she announced in a sickening voice that seemed so… fakely sweet.

  What was she doing?

  Then it happened.

  A brief flicker, where it looked like a cloud appeared on the screen. In less than a second, it was gone.

  What was that?

  Why hadn’t he seen it before?

  Jason stopped the video and dragged the bar back to the beginning, playing it once more.

  “My daddy molested me.”

  Sure enough, it happened again. So quickly it would be missed in a blink. Half a second looking away, one would never realise it was there.

  He scrolled the video back once more, but this time went frame by frame. Clicking the mouse then waiting, seeing if it showed up.

  Nothing.

  Then…

  Jason practically fell off his chair. He clambered backward, backing away from the screen in horror.

  He stood.

  Paced back and forth a few times.

  Opened out the window. Had some fresh air. Drank the rest of his cold coffee.

  “What the fuck…”

  Then, once he was mentally ready, he turned back to the screen once more.

  There, behind the girl, was a form of smoke, appearing for a single frame. But it wasn’t just any smoke; it was in the shape of a figure, with horns, a baby, the tail of a snake.

  It was just a cloud of smoke.

  A cloud of smoke taking the elusive shape of… What? A ghost? A demon?

  He was seeing things.

  It was nothing.

  A blip on the recording. A coincidence.

  Then he recalled the last thing Julian had said as he shut the cell door.

  “Play it backward!”

  Play it backward… Could he have meant the interview?

  He hit the reverse button.

  And there, in clear, audible words, he heard it. The words that had said “my daddy molested me” in a detestable, freakish voice, now said something different:

  “Please help me.”

  No. It can’t be. I’m going crazy.

  Maybe he should show this to someone?

  “Please help me. Please help me,” it repeated again and again and again.

  He hit stop.

  He had to show this to someone. He had to.

  No. They would think I am crazy. This is ridiculous.

  He thought about playing it again but didn’t need to.

  In a fit of dizziness, he stumbled out the door, knocking a stack of papers off his desk as he did. He barged through the empty corridors to the cell block, marching toward Julian’s cell.

  He banged on the cell door to get Julian’s attention. Julian stood up from his bed, approaching Jason, who leered haphazardly through the window.

  “What is going on?” Jason cried out.

  “That girl was possessed, and we freed her. Now the father is possessed, and is likely going to kill her as a result.”

  Jason backed away.

  What was going on?

  Was he really doing this?

  Oh, God…

  “Can she still be saved?” Jason urgently demanded. “If I get us there with blue lights, can she still be saved?”

  Julian shrugged. “She may well already be dead, but it’s worth a shot.”

  Jason nodded and tripped on his way to get the keys, trying to keep himself steady, in disbelief at what he was doing.

  40

  It took everything Oscar had to fight his gag reflex.

  It was the first time he had ever seen a dead body, and the emasculated part of him wished he could say he handled it better. Something he may have been able to do if the body hadn’t been such a deformed, mangled, distorted corpse.

  “Pull yourself together,” April urged him.

  He nodded vacantly, unaware he was even responding. His eyes remained transfixed on the lifeless eyes staring vacantly back at him.

  April nudged him and pulled his face toward hers.

  “I need you, Oscar. Don’t flake out on me now.”

  She needs me?

  Not caring that he was probably taking that the completely opposite way to which it was intended, he decided she was right. He was acting how the old Oscar would have acted.

  No more.

  This was the new Oscar.

  A clang of heavily falling furniture thudded against the ceiling above, vibrating a cloud of dust off the wooden beams. Oscar and April exchanged a silent glance of confirmation. They were heading upstairs.

  Reaching into the bag April had brought in, Oscar withdrew a cross and clutched onto it.

  So silly, really. A week ago he refused to even set foot in a church, what with how ridiculous a concept religion was.

  Now here he was, clutching onto a cross in the hope it was going to keep him alive.

  Step by step, he crept. Placing one gentle foot above the other, placing them down with enough care so as to avoid the creak of the old wooden floorboards beneath the faded carpet.

  As he approached the landing, he peered across the dark hallway. The girl’s room, at the far end of the corridor, gifted them a tiny crack, with a minuscule shaft of light shining out.

  Oscar hesitated.

  Exhaled deeply.

  April took hold of his hand and grasped it, squeezing it tightly in comfort.

  Oscar appreciated it.

  It wasn’t just about how being able to hold her hand filled his body with excited tingles, but the reassurance it gave him to feel her soft skin against his.

  It gave him the strength to take the final few steps.

  With a deep breath he gathered himself, filling his mind with calm thoughts to quell the rabid anxiety coursing through him.

  He lunged himself forward and barged through the door, holding his cross out, gripping it so tightly the edges splintered painfully into his palm.

  Fuck the pain.

  It was time to step up.

  It took a moment of repulsion for him to ignore the sight before him. Willing it to fade into the background, he urged himself to overcome it.

  The girl was laid in a bloody heap upon the bed. Oscar could see her chest rising up and down, slowly taking in what air she could – a sign that she was still alive, at least. But her face was badly bruised, her body cut, her clothes ripped and torn.

  Henry turned his head toward Oscar and April with a devious growl. It was inhuman – like an alerted wild animal turning toward its prey. From the position Henry held over Kaylee, Oscar dreaded to think about what the poor girl’s father was doing.

  The guy was almost unrecognisable.

  What had been neatly groomed, gelled hair was now a sweaty mess mixed with patches of blood. His eyes were large circles of red. His skin was barely present, faded to a dark-pale scar, wrinkled with wounds. His mouth was black, with blood seeping through the cracks of his teeth, and his torn lips lifted uncomfortably at a skewed angle across his face. White blotches of scar tissue decorated his eyelids.

  But what freaked Oscar out most was Henry’s body. Every joint was distorted, bent in a way that was unnatural for a human’s bones to bend, turning in every direction he shouldn’t.

  His growl was merciless. A mixture of various carnivorous animals, a scream that sent Oscar against the back of the wall.

  But Oscar was not letting this thing win.

  The poor girl looked to have been tortured to the edge of her life, and it was up to him to provide her salvation.

  “Back away, you foul beast!” Oscar demanded, holding his cross out.

  April joined him, clutching rosary beads toward the demonic creature before them.

  Oscar did his best to remember the prayer Julian had used.

  “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, leave this being!”

  A sinister smirk grew across Henry’s crooked face.

  “The angels in heaven command you!”

  The angels in heaven? That wasn’t it, was it?

&
nbsp; The grin turned into a malevolent chuckle.

  “The power of Christ demands you to let this man go!”

  In an effortless swipe, Henry’s claw swung over the cross and rosary beads, knocking them to the floor.

  It stood facing them.

  Oscar cowered. Glanced at April. Lip quivering.

  Was this it?

  Was this how he was about to die?

  The first time he ever tried doing the right thing in his entire life was going to be the last thing he ever did?

  That was when, in a huge stroke of good fortune, the door swung open.

  In stormed a police officer named Jason Lyle, followed by the strong march of Julian, holding his own cross, demanding the demon away.

  41

  Jason dove on Henry, taking him to the ground, pinning him down with all of his weight.

  Jason’s jaw dropped at the sight of Henry’s face. It was an animalistic mess – its glare intensified like a rabid beast, snarling and snapping its jaw at Jason, excessive saliva dripping down his chin in bloody gunks.

  Julian held his cross toward Henry.

  “Dear heavenly Father,” Julian began.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Henry soared into the air and, before Jason could understand what was happening, he had been smacked into the ceiling. He cried with pain as he was held there for a moment, the bump of the lamp digging into his back as it gave off sparks that sent violent shivers up and down his body. Henry then plummeted back to the floor, shaking like a dog drying itself so as to knock Jason away from him.

  Jason’s groaning body rolled onto the floor.

  Everything hurt. Every bone, every muscle.

  He lifted his head slowly, dragging his hazy vision upwards. He saw what was on the bed.

  Kaylee.

  Tied to the bed by each wrist and ankle.

  Her clothes were bloody and ripped.

  Her eyes were closed. Jason wasn’t entirely sure she was breathing.

  He forced every last piece of energy he had to his muscles, relying on adrenaline to force him to his feet.

  Henry climbed to all fours, turning toward Jason and hissing. His eyeballs were succumbed by a complete bloody red, his hands wrapped around into claws, and its body curled up and tensing. It walked forward like an untamed beast, glaring at Julian, waiting for its turn to pounce.

  The possessed body of Henry leapt forward, diving toward Julian, but Jason sent it on its side with a large swing of his fist, landing his knuckles in the side of the possessed man’s face.

  Jason managed to get himself back to his feet in time to thwack his asp around the back of Henry’s head. Henry’s body lay absently on the floor, eyelids flickering, losing consciousness.

  Henry’s body wriggled on the floor like a beast struggling to find its legs.

  Jason swung his asp once more into Henry’s head, knocking him out cold.

  “We need to get him restrained, and now,” Julian instructed. “We aren’t going to do this without him still.”

  Jason withdrew his handcuffs and handed them to Julian.

  “Use this,” he instructed, then ran to Kaylee’s side. He removed the restraints from the girl and held her dead weight in his arms, shaking her, willing her to come around.

  The poor, wretched girl coughed, dribbling blood down her cheek. Then her coughing turned to desperate breaths, which turned to vacant wheezing.

  She wasn’t breathing.

  He lay her down, wiping the trickling blood off her cheeks.

  “No, come on…” he whispered, pleading with her to live, pleading even though it did nothing.

  He thought back to his first aid training.

  What should he do?

  Don’t panic.

  That was the first thing. Don’t panic.

  Clear the airway. That was the next thing he remembered.

  Taking a screwed-up piece of tissue from his pocket, he wiped away all the blood, patting her back to ensure everything came up.

  He laid her firmly on her back and knelt beside her neck, opening her mouth.

  He pinched the nostrils.

  Took a deep breath,

  Leant down, breathed oxygen into the little girl’s lungs.

  Looked at her chest.

  It didn’t rise.

  The oxygen wasn’t even going into her lungs.

  What am I doing wrong?

  He pinched her nose.

  Why did I tell them to meet me at the station in an hour? How could I miss what that arsehole was doing to his daughter?

  No time to think about that now.

  Stop it.

  Covering her mouth with his, pinching the nose, ensuring there was no way air could escape – he breathed out once more.

  Her chest laid flat.

  It did not rise.

  The blood. She was choking up blood.

  It must be clogging up her throat.

  He resumed CPR.

  He pumped her chest with his hands.

  He gave her as much oxygen as he was able to give.

  Again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  Jason turned and looked to Julian watching expectantly. He’d managed to handcuff Henry and find some rope that he was wrapping around him but he, just like Oscar and April, watched on helplessly, waiting to see if Kaylee lived or died.

  “She’s not breathing,” Jason muttered, having to tell himself as much as the others.

  As if with a protesting response, Kaylee spluttered a quick movement of her chest.

  Jason’s head shot back to her, watching her intently, the whole room holding a collective breath.

  She spluttered some more.

  Her chest rose.

  He could feel her breath brushing against his cheek.

  He turned back to the rest of the room.

  “She needs to go to a hospital,” Jason told them.

  Julian looked from Jason, to Oscar and April.

  “I’ll take her,” Oscar reluctantly decided. Out of everyone there he was evidently the most useless, and the one they could do without.

  He stepped forward and began picking the girl up.

  “No,” Julian decided. Oscar turned back to him, bemused. “We need you, Oscar.”

  Oscar looked to April, then back to Julian. A flicker of happiness adorned his face, an emotion he tried to conceal; a young girl’s life hung in the balance and this wasn’t the time for him to be pleased that they needed him.

  “Jason, could you?” Julian asked.

  Jason nodded. “I’m going to need to call this in. How long do you need?”

  “An hour.”

  “Okay.”

  Jason picked Kaylee up and swiftly took her away.

  42

  A calm tranquillity descended over the dining table of the Kemple residence.

  Henry, with his hands restrained in handcuffs through the back of his chair and an uncomfortable rope wrapped around his chest, opened his bloody eyes, surveying the scene with disgust.

  The demon that dwelled within looked around itself, then grunted a sneer of amusement.

  Julian sat directly opposite, with Oscar and April to his left and right. Sage sat on the table burning slowly, sending a small slither of smoke trailing into the air, surrounded by three lit candles. They held hands around the table, Oscar and April’s hands crossing over Henry’s body.

  He leant his head back and guffawed. The demon’s laugh rang out of Henry’s helpless mouth, shaking the loose scabs poking off his face.

  “You fucking idiots,” it declared. “You’re doing a séance, aren’t you? Or is it a cleansing? Or a fucked-up kind of exorcism?”

  “Please remember,” Julian spoke to the other two, holding eye contact with Henry’s evil eyes. “To do exactly as I say, and do not break the circle.”

  Julian bowed his head and closed his eyes.

  Henry grinned wildly, a sad
istic curve smeared across his face. His laugh continued, high-pitched like a hyena, then low like a thunderous rumble in a distant jungle.

  “Spirits, hear us,” Julian began, slowly and calmly. “We have amongst us an unclean spirit.”

  “Hah!” Henry blurted out. “Unclean!”

  “We need help casting this demon out of our brother’s body.”

  Henry leant his head forward, turning to Oscar. “Hey,” he whispered. “Hey, you.”

  Oscar opened his eyes, then turned away as Julian pulled on his arm, a prompt to ignore any taunts.

  “Yo, Oscar, mate,” Henry continued to whisper, as if he was talking to a naughty friend at the back of a class. “Wanna hear what I did to Kaylee?"

  “If there are any spirits with us right now,” Julian persisted, trying to ignore the demon’s tease, “please help us cleanse this house of evil.”

  “Hey,” Henry continued his sneaky whispers. “I practically broke her in two.”

  Oscar scrunched up his face, doing all he could to ignore the demon, refusing to give in to its sickening words.

  “I fucked her in places you should never be fucked.”

  Oscar turned to Henry. He knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help it.

  But he didn’t see Henry sat beside him.

  There, in its true form, was the demon Lilu. Its scarred body was decorated in a coat of armour, decorated like a war hero. But its face… its face sent shivers seizing up and down Oscar’s chest. It was curved like that of a ravenous goat, twisted horns raising out of a contorted head, bloody fangs overlapping the edge of its mouth. Attached to its back were two large wings, almost as big as its body.

  Then Oscar looked closer.

  Its face… it wasn’t just scrunched up out of a terrifying contortion of evil. It was upset. It was crying.

  This thing was crying.

  This gave Oscar an idea.

  “You are pathetic,” Oscar spoke.

  “Oscar, what are you doing?” Julian demanded. They had forewarned Oscar not to interact with it and not to interrupt the process, yet there he was.

  “A crying demon,” Oscar continued. “How ridiculous.”

  “Oscar, what the hell are you–”

  “Julian,” April interjected, sensing that Oscar was onto something.

  Julian calmed down and, despite being overcome by confusion, turned to Oscar and watched.