“
Who is it? Can you tell?”
“It might be a spiritual advisor or a teacher?” Sandra said.
“Like you,” Diana laughed, pointing to Sandra.
“No. This is a man. He might be a priest or a doctor.”
That aroused my interest more than the seductive touches of Diana. Could Sandra actually know something, or was she involved with Billings and Haworth? I needed to know. “Which one is it?” I asked.
“I can’t tell right now,” Sandra said, moving toward the cards again. “We have to look at the next card. Maybe I’ll get something from that.”
“You worry too much,” Diana added, kicking her legs up on my lap. “Relax. Party a little. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“We’ll see,” Sandra said. She flipped the next card, instructing me, “This is what’s against you. The force or power that wants to stop your progress.”
The card turned over, slowly revealing a skull and an ax that seemed to cut right through me. I was speechless. The lava lamp made sinister faces at me, melting into my imagination. I felt like I was suffocating.
“You chose the Death Card, Eddie,” Sandra said without emotion.
“What’s it mean?” I asked, feeling my heart sink in my chest, constricting me.
“You’re so dead,” groaned Diana.
I remember looking at that card thinking, maybe I am going to die. What if it’s my time? I got up feeling dizzy. The card felt so alive as I held it in my hand. It was like that skull was reflecting my own face. My mortality. I felt like that horse could jump out any second and the rider would cut my head off like Ichabod Crane in Sleepy Hollow. I felt trapped in that room. Like I could die right there. It was silent for what seemed like eternity, before Diana started laughing wildly, blurting out, “I’m totally fucking with you!”
Sandra took the card from my hand and placed it back, saying. “It doesn’t mean you have to die, Eddie. The Death Card means something is coming to an end, but that brings a brand new beginning. It could be in your life. Or your career.”
“Or love life,” added Diana.
“Yes,” Sandra replied. “It could be the end of one relationship and the beginning of another. You ain’t married are you?”
“No.” I responded softly.
“But you got a girlfriend,” Sandra said convincingly.
“You’re the psychic, you tell me?” I said, trying to gauge her knowledge.
“There’s turmoil in your life Eddie. Anxiety, depression, fear, distressing events that are about to happen. The death card says ‘It’s time to show what you are made of.’ You have to believe that life goes on, no matter what. Life is what you make of it. Believe that and you’ll get through to your dream. And that girl of yours. I wouldn’t trust her. Should she really trust you?”
“See, it ain’t serious. He’s ours,” Diana said, as she slid her hands down my chest. “Aren’t ya?”
“Sure,” I groaned letting her kiss me. She pulled her robe open and pushed her body softly against mine.
“You want to see how it ends. Are you ready for your outcome?” Sandra inquired.
At this point, what did I have to lose? I nodded okay and she flipped the last card, and there I was, staring at:
THE DEVIL
“
Oh shit!” Diana yelled out.
“Shit what? Death and now the devil, what’s it mean? I cried out. “What’s it mean?”
“Relax, baby. You’ll be okay?” Diana consoled me, rubbing my thigh before directing her voice to Sandra, saying. “Tell him, sweetie. Tell him what the cards mean.”
“
This is your final opportunity to change direction, ” Sandra said.
“You mean go back home?” I asked.
Taking my hand and pulling me closer with every word, she said, “No, you have the Emperor. You have the ability to get everything you ever wanted. But temptation and addiction will ruin you if you let them overpower you. Don’t doubt your ability. Be confident and take what you want. And you can have everything your heart desires.”
By now, Sandra and I were face to face. Our lips only inches apart and our eyes locked together. Diana’s hands moved down my back and I could feel her breasts pressing against my back.
The music began to pulse in rhythms through me. Diana began to slide her body down me with each guitar note, making her way into my heart of darkness. I could feel her curves wrap into me, slicing through my resistance. Shaking with the tambourine, Sandra pulled me into her clutches. Her wet lips pushed into mine. Her tongue swirled in circles, beckoning my touch as the music spoke to me.
“This is the end, beautiful friend.
This is the end, my only friend the end.”
Jim Morrison’s haunting voice came back from the dead to fill my senses. The music was our rhythm, slow curving bodies rounding together as one in passionate embrace.
“Of our elaborate plans, the end.
Of everything that stands, the end.
No safety or surprise, the end.
I’ll never look into your eyes…again.
Can you picture what will be,
So limitless and free…
It was like a movie, so perfect. So playful. So artful and delectable. Moans of pleasure escaped into the air, breath that could be seen taking form in the smoke, like creatures moving through the air, intertwining forms of love, lust and desire. My desires echoed in the music, which penetrated the air with truth.
“Desperately in need…of some…stranger’s hand,
In a…desperate land.”
Colors flashed in the pounding of the drums, of newly naked bodies, turning from passionate to primitive. Guttural groans of the deepest pleasure emanated from me. I was the Emperor. I was the King. I was in control, in command. And I felt that power surging through me like I was invincible. Incredible. Unstoppable!
“Lost in a Roman…wilderness of pain.
And all the children are insane.
All the children are insane!”
Screams of pleasure burst out my women. With each thrust, each taste, each touch! Louder and louder. Bigger and better.
Primal nature arose intensely in the smoky air, building through the echoes, the screams and the music. Pounding with the drumbeats, we reached an unforgettable climax that I can still taste now. It’s on my lips with my morning coffee. It’s part of me now. I can’t explain it fully, but these women gave me power. They gave me strength. They gave me confidence.
Whatever it was? It’s in me now. I felt it enter me, like a rush of wind as I exploded with a primitive caveman grunt that said I OWN YOU! I’m going to carry that power back to Uphir and crack open this case. Nothing can stop me!
I am THE EMPEROR!
SATURDAY DECEMBER 11, 2010
AUDIO LOG:
DECEMBER 11 or 12? 2010 - 3:00 PM
“This is Eddie Hansen, back at the Uphir Behavioral Center with Doctor Allen Haworth. It is Saturday, December 11, exactly three pm. And we are discussing my re-admittance into…”
Dr. Haworth interrupted, “It’s the twelfth.”
“Excuse me?”
“Today is Sunday, December twelfth,” Haworth stated emphatically.
“No it’s not.”
“We expected you back Friday night. But you said you were going to spend the weekend in El Paso with your girlfriend.”
“No. No,” I told him. “I came here. I was only gone one night.”
“It appears two,” Haworth replied confidently.
I could feel my blood boiling, but I needed to remain calm. His voice was like nails on a chalkboard, screeching through me with an irritating tone saying, “Is everything all right, Mr. Hansen?”
Mr. Hansen. He says that on purpose to feel intellectual, superior. He says it to piss me off. To make things formal and impersonal, so while he probes me I’m supposed to feel indifferent. Since you want to know how I feel, I answered, “I’m fine.”
Could I have lost a whole day, slept twenty-four hours? Did I lose my memory?
What happened to me? Or is Haworth messing with me? Trying my patience to see if I lose control. For what seemed like minutes, we stared at each other, before he gave in and asked me, “Would you like us to prepare your guest quarters?”
“Please,” I answered, watching him scribble notes on to the pad that was my developing file.
Finally, he looked back up and calmly stated, “Reverend Billings will be here at six for service in the chapel. You are welcome to join us. A special dinner will be served afterward.”
“Thank you,” I said as I got up and moved around the table to shake his hand and look at his computer monitor. As I peered over his shoulder, I could see SUNDAY DEC. 12, 2010 3:03 PM.
JOURNAL ENTRY:
SUNDAY DECEMBER 12, 2010 - 3:33 PM
Sure enough, my computer and phone both say it’s the twelfth. A day in my life is missing and I can’t remember a thing. I don’t have a clue. I can’t conjure up an image or a memory. Not even a dream. And I’m trying hard to think of any clue.
The only thing that comes to me is a nagging voice that says, “I got you exactly where I want you. You’re mine.” As if it were Haworth gloating over the fact that he’s back in control.
Looking around, this room feels different. Everything looks the same crazy way, but it feels colder. I turned the heat on and feel the vent pushing hot air into the room, but nothing is changing yet. It smells stale, musty in here. I think I’ve got a bit of a head cold or sinus infection, because no matter where I go I smell that same smell inside my head. Like the inside of my head is rotting. I’m going to take some cold medicine, a hot shower and nap before service.
JOURNAL ENTRY:
SUNDAY DECEMBER 12, 2010 - 5:40 PM
That shower felt like hot nails driving into my skin. Dry cracked, skin that’s been weathered by winter’s chill. Each drop pierced through raw open skin. There’s something that looks like a rash on my right shoulder, surrounding three long scratches running down my back. It’s not four like a hand, but three close together.
I don’t remember anything happening. It’s amazing how the mind buries pain until your senses rediscover it, and then you can’t stop focusing on it. My leg is bruised outside my right thigh and my arm has a tiny swelling around the inside of my elbow. Maybe from when the nurse took my blood.
My eyes have dark circles around them and my skin looks a little pale. Looking into the mirror, I don’t even feel like I’m looking at myself today. I don’t recognize me.
I feel like I’m on the outside looking in. I feel older, tired. That surge of power I felt so strongly, faded. Maybe it was the realization of lost time, or the nagging feeling that something is missing. Or the weariness of my mind telling me that I’m losing control, with an impending sense of doom crushing through my skull.
It feels like a vice grip crushing my bones. I sense this pressure, like cold steel, pushing in opposite directions, in the same spot on my leg, like it is going to snap it in to pieces. I can’t describe this fear any other way. It’s like I’m locked in one of Jigsaw’s traps and time is running out. It’s all I can think about lying on this bed after my shower. These crazy ideas fly through my head.
Crazy ideas, like I should pull my fingers back until they break, or scratch though the marks on my back. It’s insane. My body’s craving pain to feel alive. To wake up. I didn’t want to give in, but my mind wouldn’t let go. I couldn’t stop looking at the leopard statue. It seemed to draw me closer. I couldn’t stop. I got up and walked over to it.
Leaning down, I just stared into the leopard’s eyes, seeing crazy ideas of hurting myself fly through my head. Finally, I took my hand and pushed it hard into the jagged edge of the leopard’s paw, feeling the claws dig into my skin. I can’t describe it fully, but it felt like we connected. Like we were blood brothers, taking an oath. As I saw the first drops of blood trickle out of my hand, it brought me peace, a relief that let me rest, until now.
JOURNAL/ AUDIO LOG:
SUNDAY DECEMBER 12, 2010 – 11:08 PM
As I stepped into the arched cathedral, the dome engulfed me. The statues and paintings of the Saints looked like a museum of Renaissance art. It took me back to the Cathedral in my neighborhood, when I was a kid. The beauty and magnificence of the work was only overshadowed by the angelic voice that echoed off its walls. Listen.
“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see”
Her voice is beautiful, clear, warm, soothing, penetrating. It’s the kind of sound that gives you goose bumps. My hair is standing up straight as I listen, but for some unknown reason, I feel irritated. As I worked my way into a back pew, I began to notice the freak show surrounding me.
I didn’t see grace, I saw disgrace. I saw demented, mentally ill patients trying to find salvation in an empty manger, which stood on the altar.