DEADLY VEILS BOOK ONE: SHATTERING TRUTHS – 36

Chapter Thirty-six

A 

fter a few days of rain and fog, the early April weather was gorgeous. It felt like spring, and everyone in the office seemed happy—except me. 

Quinton was behind the receptionist’s desk, and I sank comfortably into the chair facing him. “What the hell am I doing here, Quinton —on this earth?” I asked. “What am I doing? I feel like I’m pounding on an iron wall—screaming in a doorway where there’s nobody home. I’m just floating through time with a feeling of being and not being. What am I doing here? I always find myself asking that question, no matter where I am. I should be able to handle all this. The strength used to be there. There were obstacles, but I learned to get around them. Now I’m caught in a current of some kind.” 

A smile began to tug at his lips. “I think you know where the strength came from, and you can find it again.” 

“I don’t know,” I said. “When I told you about that so-called dream, there were things I left out. Like there were times I thought that reptilian thing was going to strangle me.” 

“So the dream took on an added dimension.” 

“We keep calling it a dream, but it didn’t feel like a dream,” I reminded him, “and they felt like human hands. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but, the thing is, I don’t want to go to sleep at night! I’m spooked by the darkness. I jump when the telephone rings. I jump for footsteps, noises, fallen objects.” 

“Good grief!” he joked. “The rulers of darkness want to run with your soul.” 

“It’s not funny.” I pouted. “I think Angie’s worried about me.” 

“Maybe she is, but you know who is not worried about you?” 

“Who?” 

“The mightiest power of all.” 

“Superman?” 

He chuckled again. 

“Oh, yeah, God. Where is He, by the way? I don’t have an address or a phone number. In fact, I see no trace of Him.” 

“Do you want to know why He’s not worried?” 

“I can’t wait to hear.” 

“Because He knows what you’re capable of.” 

“Right, after all my angry poems, I’m sure He’s been singing my praises.” 

“Now, now, you know people do find their faith tested sometimes in moments of grief and loss, but you’ll find your way again.” 

It seemed like the perfect moment to tell him about Valentin. “He wasn’t looking for romance, let alone with a teenager,” I explained. “He was focusing on the kids, his career, continuing his education, working on his issues, dealing with the failed marriage. We were obviously attracted to each other, but he was simply a good friend to me when I needed him, and that’s that.” 

Quinton raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like his mama raised him right.” 

“Yeah, I guess she did. And, you know, in some ways, you remind me of him. Well, I mean, aside from being nice, you both encourage me and share a lot of my passions. Valentin and I even love the same music—including Motown.” 

“Ah, Motown!” Quinton’s deep chuckle was a comfort. “Sounds like you found another kindred spirit.” 

“Yes, perfect way to describe it,” I said. “I just wish I could stop thinking about him.” 

He smiled. “Well, do you believe in fate?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“If it’s meant to be, it will be.” 

“Maybe.” I stood. “Well, I better get back to my desk.”I couldn’t wait to finish my work and go home. 

When I did, finally, I closed the door behind me and breathed a sigh of relief. Strangely, even with the nightmares, the old house had become my safe haven. 

That night, there was an infant in my dream. She had brown hair and eyes, and she was crying, so I held her. Though I had no plans to be a mother, or even a wife, and vowed not to drag another innocent child into this hellhole, there wasn’t any doubt she was my child. I had feelings I understood for the first time. 

She was the future child I feared for, the tender soul I couldn’t protect. Those eyes would look to me, trusting me to make it a good life, and, at times, she would look bewildered. The thought that she should suffer absolutely crushed me. I couldn’t bear the thought that her dreams might be shattered along with her precious heart, that she would see the world as it is, and that it would devastate her. These were torturous thoughts that brought insurmountable pain. 

I knew, too, that I would make great sacrifices for this child, and that, without hesitation, I would die for her. 

 Kissing her face now, I held her as close as I could. I held her, and I cried. 

The dream ended with the supposed illusion of those glittering lights and the discharge of electricity I could feel throughout my body. The reptilian creature had returned. 

It seized my tremulous form from behind, and then it was inside of me, yet I could see it in the darkness. There were no eyes in the back of my head, but I saw it. Either I saw what it wanted me to see, or I saw what my mind had constructed. It might have been an image seared into my brain as a child, this concept of the “evil one,” and it fused now with all my shame and crippled me with fear. 

My muscles tensed, but I was too shocked to feel violated, too sedated beyond even the sleep stage. Rather, there was this hypnotic appeasement. Part of me wanted to scream, but I could not muster a gasp and couldn’t move. It seemed I was losing my desire to resist, that I would surrender, losing my soul or my mind. It seemed, too, that I could die, or that I was already in the process of dying. Whatever it was, it wanted to corrupt me, maybe even drain and deplete me. Its determination was fierce. 

“What do you want?” I asked. Surely, I did not say those words. We seemed to communicate telepathically. 

A strange, robotic voice replied, “The enemy is here beyond the gates and will rise.” 

It became clear in that moment; I had to shift my consciousness and reclaim the power I had lost. 

As this thought occurred, the creature’s form changed. It became Angie with her innocent eyes and shy, sweet smile. It was comforting enough to drop my guard, but then her curious eyes seemed to look right through me, and the reptilian creature reappeared in her place. I could see its eyes now—gold eyes, big and bulging. It was reaching for my throat but with claws now that were piercing my flesh. 

“Your deception is so cruel.” The words seemed to leave my mind of their own volition. “You can only manipulate with tricks, and when I’m in a weak and helpless state. That is the extent of your power. That is all you can do. You can’t destroy me unless I let you, and I won’t let you.” 

As I said these words, the bulging eyes turned a blood red. They seemed to represent every oppressor I’d had in my life, everyone who had ever made me feel worthless. Sadly, one was Robbie, and another was my father, but I could forgive the pain they’d caused. Phil and Sergio brought more anger than sadness, but I had to let it sink in. They raped me—both of them. The pain coursed through me as I saw this image of myself, falling to my knees in the darkness. 

“You erased me!” I cried. “You shattered my soul!” 

They had taken away all that I was, every bit of trust and hope that I’d held—for a moment or perhaps for a season—but I had to take it back. 

“No!” I shouted in my head. “This is not what I want. No! No! No! No more! You don’t know what I want, and you can’t keep me down. Be gone! I denounce you! Leave me in peace and be gone!” 

The tears came, and then the sobbing. It was as if the sobbing came from deep within my soul, from the pit of my heart, and that others mourned with me. I could almost hear them—above all, my dear Angie, and the little girl inside me. 

Something happened—a shift in energy, perhaps—but something changed. The creature was gone. I had won, and I knew it. 

There were beautiful doves flying—white doves, black doves. It was neither dark nor light, but darkness and light had become one, and something was shining down upon me. Was it me? That figure curled on the ground and bundled in blankets had weary eyes through which a lifetime of emotion had passed. Those eyes had shed many tears, but had seen much joy and laughter. She was lying in a puddle of blood and dying, until a kind old man happened by and tapped her shoulder with a cane. She turned her head away. He knelt and placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder. 

“Come home,” he said to her. 

“What is home?” I asked in my silence. “Where is it?” 

The girl was weak, but he lifted her into his arms and carried her to where her path had begun long ago. Then he vanished. 

I quieted then because I felt gentle arms around me, truly felt them. The surrounding light made it impossible to tell whether it was Angie, a guardian angel, or Jesus, but there was an impenetrable shield encircling me, protecting me. I felt drenched in love, and the arms simply held me as I cried—with more tenderness than I could ever have imagined. 

Deadly Veils Book One: Shattering Truths was originally published as Deadly Veils: Book One: Provenance of Bondage copyright © October 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon. The revised edition, Deadly Veils: Book One: Shattering Truths was published in December 2016. Cover design by KH Koehler Design.