Chapter 5: Deadly

Chapter 5: Deadly

I hoped he would get up soon, but I wasn’t too concerned, as he appeared to just be asleep.

That was when the voice began to speak to me yet again, however. It seemed relentless, unable to relinquish the grip that it had on me.

Your father is dead, the voice exclaimed wildly at me in my ear.

I didn’t know whether to be relieved, or to be terrified.

None of this was familiar to me. It all just seemed like a horridly cruel joke of which I was the punchline.

That’s when a sudden change in my soul came about.

Of course, I wasn’t exactly expecting it, but it didn’t exactly surprise me either.

I was just able to take it as it came, welcoming the abrupt change with open arms.

“Daddy, wake up,” I urged tearfully, my eyes suddenly dripping wet, the tears cascading down from my eyes in torrents.

“Daddy?” I didn’t know anything concerning medical coverage, his security or health benefits.

In fact, I very much realized in this moment how little I did know regarding the Pope and his protection, which both frightened and embarrassed me.

Why hadn’t I done my own research? It all just seemed so enigmatic, so esoteric and utterly unreachable to arrive at such conclusions.

And yet, the information could have easily been provided to me by my own father. All I had to do was ask, and the information that I now needed would be at my very fingertips.

It wasn’t always that easy and yet, I could have slapped myself for being so naïve, so presumptuous.

That was when I lost total control.

Clutching my fists tightly against my sides, I began to slowly burn…

I couldn’t take the pain, and yet, it seemed to be the only remedy that could possibly cure me. The only semblance of healing to the insurmountable amount of agony that presently filled me.

“I need you, Daddy...” I moaned as I drove the searing, white-hot blade against my wrists.

Falling to the floor, I began to tremble violently as I extended both my hands toward him.

Strangely, and ironically, I felt as though I were participating in a séance. Like maybe my dad and I were more deeply connected spiritually in that way after all.

But no… I detected a distinct resistance in energy toward that which I emitted into the atmosphere. I found myself cursing unconsciously to myself in my head, and aloud, as I attempted to speak darkness over my father, and felt the sheer overwhelming dread dripping over me like blood-red crimson.

“Daddy, please wake up,” I whispered as though ordinary language could somehow do the trick. Maybe somewhere inside of me, that’s what I believed- but for now, my heart told me that I needed these spells and incantations in order to feel the magic of healing purely come upon me.

But not just for me.

This was for him.

So I restarted the process- knowing that my soul would need to heal if I ever wanted to remotely feel half-alive again.

And my soul could heal only through magic.

The magic of performed, careful, pre-planned words.

The harmony of discord. The symmetry between light and dark.

But something felt suddenly wrong, as I poured my soul into memory.

The instruments that I typically performed with- they had vanished from sight.

My pendulum, the tarot- it all had disappeared more quickly than even my father had collapsed.

For I had fallen from grace far more quickly than I had ever stood for love.

My father, he often preached of love, but more frequently, he spoke of grace.

It wasn’t that I was entirely blind, or completely naïve to such notions, such lofty ideals.

It was just that in my mind, grace ought to have appeared much different from the way that it actually was.

Not that it was in my hands to make such decisions of what was- just that I wished I could have been in control far more than I actually was.

But I had decided long ago that I would have far preferred to live in a fairy tale world than to live half-alive, disenchanted with the truth.

Truth hurt me.

It hurt me far more than it changed me, enslaved me much more than it ever would have set me free.

I was too frightened to call an ambulance.

So I did what I knew best: stood in silent submission, waiting passively for something bigger to occur.

Until I couldn’t wait anymore.

Without candles, without my pendulum, without my deck, without my third eye, I stood and waited for the storm to pass, for the wicked sea inside of me to cease.

“Daddy, wake up,” I whispered with my eyes closed, clapping my hands above him a few times just to ensure that I was still safe.

“Please wake up…please.”

At last… after what felt like several hours, and after I had awakened from quite a severe blackout-

I observed Daddy stirring quietly on the floor.

I couldn’t begin to describe to him, as to how hopeless and utterly helpless everything seemed in that moment.

“What is wrong, dear Kitty?” Daddy at last came to his senses, right when I had just about lost all hope, right when I was about to call the ambulance.

“Are you okay?” I whispered in excruciating pain. I could barely contain it, could barely hold it back in my voice.

“Yes, I am fine. Have you met any eligible suitors yet? Any that strike your fancy?”

I considered telling him of Emanuel, I really did. But somehow I knew it wasn’t the proper timing.

“No. I’m sorry, Daddy. It must not be the right timing yet. I promise you that I will find someone as soon as I am able. But for now, I just… I don’t think the timing is right.”

“Well, Kitty, as long as you know what you are doing,” he said to me with what appeared to be sadness in his eyes. “I just don’t think you have much time left. We are clearly running out. If we want the Sanhedrin out of our hair, then we have to do something about this as soon as possible. The sooner, the better.”

And with that, though I knew Daddy was still in need…

I quickly ran to my room. I was on a mission.