Chapter 9

“All these years you've researched every way and learnt many dark arts to prove to yourself that it was an accident. A natural death. But, deep down you know you're responsible for her death,” Cyrus reflection stated. 

Cyrus who had his hands covering his ear on the floor could still here it clearly. The voice spoke directly to his mind. 

“That's a lie, you don't know that,” 

“Oh, but I do. I'm your dark truth. And I'll tell you another truth,” it whispered. It's voice dropping as cold as the room. “Beware of the man on life support, he's the true evil. Here is real. Act like it's your last day or it just might be.” 

It chuckled deeply at Cyrus silence. “But you already know all this,” 

The light in the bathroom went off. The voice ceased.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Cyrus turned and looked outside the door, a tall figure stood at the center of the room. Black liquid dripped from its face as it struggled to breath from the oxygen mask on its face. The beep sound was coming from the machine that dragged behind him. The life support machine.

It bent down and twisted it body till was looking at Cyrus with its head upside down. It launched itself and closed the distance rapidly by running on all four. Bones and black liquid creaked, cracked and splashed from its body. Cyrus watched with wide eyes, too paralyzed by fear to move. It reached out to step into the bathroom when the door slammed shut on its own. 

There was a loud scream in the air. Cyrus tried to locate it and found out that it was coming from his own throat. He willed himself to stop, swallowed hard against the dryness of his mouth and fainted. 

Deep within his slumber he could here the silent whisper of a female-like voice “You're mine. I'd have your body to myself. It won't be long,” it laughed.

The striking sun rays poured in through the window and settled on Cyrus. Its warmth nudged him against the cold tiles and his eyes sprang open. He stood up and held the door nob resting his against it with shoulder braced like he was expecting a blow. Slowly, he turned to the mirror. In it his reflection mirrored him. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he said aloud. He turned the nob and opened the door a little. He peeped through and saw nothing, there were no footprints on the floor. He opened it fully and looked down, what he saw ceased his breath. On the whiteness of the bathroom door was a black handprint.

 He peeled his gaze away from it with great care. Took a deep breath and stepped out with a frown. Closing the door behind him. 

In the mirror, his reflection did not step out. It closed the door and smiled.

Cyrus ignored the sound of the television that was still on. Picked up his clothes from the little table, wore it and lifted the box he came with, placing it on the bed. 

The locks clicked and snapped as he unlocked it. Within it he brought out three item. A bottle labeled “Holy water”, a pack of blessed salt, and two packs of white candles. He poured some of the water on his hand and sprinkled the items. Taking the bottle to his room door he sprinkled it on the rabbit foot, it sizzled and the smell of cooked bush meat hit his nose. He removed it and tried the door. It refused to unlock. He placed it back and tried again. It opened. 

Cyrus sat beside the box, tapping his hand on the box with a furrowed brow. The digital clock displayed ten, am. 

A knock resounded at the door of his room. Three times it tapped. Cyrus glanced at the time and stood up. Room service was always at this hour. 

“Good morning, Mr Cyrus,’’ a man in a white apron addressed him. His nametag displayed his name. He was tall with braided hair that was partly covered with a cap. “Breakfast from the kitchen.”  

“Kelvin, do come in,” Cyrus said and stepped aside for him to come in but Kelvin shook his head. 

“Sir, no staff members are allowed to step into that room,” 

Kelvin pushed the trolley past Cyrus and it rolled on its own till it came to a stop by the bed. “And when you're done. Push it back out and a staff would retrieve it.” 

Cyrus smiled. “Thank you Kelvin,” he said and closed the door. The rabbit foot tapped against it as he made his way to the bed. 

A knock came on his door. Three hard knocks. Cyrus opened the door.

“Did you forget…” Cyrus trailed off. There was no one at the door. He slammed it shut and turned. 

He looked to his left and saw that the bathroom door he closed was wide open. He ran and picked up his holy water, glancing around the room with expectation but nothing happened. 

A knock came on his door. Three bangs. It made him jump on his feet. His heart raised but he did not move toward the door. He sprinkled water into the space around him, on the bed and trolley. Every place the water landed. It sizzled. 

Cyrus let him hands drop to his side as he sat down on the bed and opened his meal. A plate of bacon and fried eggs with salad on the side.

He stared at his dish, and force himself to savour the meal. While the TV in the living room switched off and on. A scurry of children feets running across the room from the bathroom to the living room and back. His bathroom door opened and closed with a bang. The tap gushed and ceased for a moment only to resume later without explanation. 

He ignored all that and ate like he was a prince with his right hand. His left hand squeezed the holy water bottle so tight his knuckles whitened. 

“Hey Mister,” a child voice called. Cyrus gulped down his last bite of bacon and eggs, closed his eyes and washed down with a gulp of holy water. He opened them to behold a male child with half his face bashed in. “My momma said you carry the devil.” 

“And where is your momma?” Cyrus asked. 

The child smiled, showing the toothless grin of a bloody gum. Its sinester smiled stayed on as it raised it's left hand that had just one finger. The rest looked like they were mauled off by a bear.

  “My momma, my momma. She's behind you.” It chuckled. 

Cyrus gulped. Lifted his bottle and sprayed holy water on the child. It shrieked as it burned. There was a deep wailed behind and a hand with long nails gripped his arm. He twisted his wristed and sprayed water behind him without looking back. 

Another voice shrieked and wailed behind him. Cyrus did not look back. Just kept spraying into the air around him till it ceased. 

The images of his experience at night flashed through his mind. Being tossed around and played with like a child twisted a knot in his stomach. The taste in his tongue was like bile as rage rose within his belly at his wounded pride. Cyrus weary eyes slowly hardened with anger. He opened the box and brought out five more pack of salt. He took one, tore it and scattered its content around the bed and on his trolley.   

Cyrus attacked the bed by pulling at it till it was away from the wall. And with it in the center he made a very large circle of salt around the bed. Taking four candles he placed them at four corners of the circle in a way that they opposed each other.