Shining among Darkness
By
WingzemonX
Chapter 32.
My Brave Child
Officer Sear's small apartment quickly filled with smoke, suddenly interrupting the pleasant conversation he was having with his guest. Alarmed, the policeman promptly went to the oven, turned the gas off, and then opened the door. As he did the latter, a thicker, darker cloud of smoke arose from inside the oven, practically hitting him in the face.
Cole coughed hard, feeling the sting of smoke enter his eyes and nose. It took a couple of seconds for him to recover.
"Oh, Cole," he heard her mother mockingly pronounce from the small circular table in the center of the kitchen, making his cheeks flush.
He groped a cloth on the counter, and with it managed to remove the refractory from the oven. That was supposed to be a delicious stew with potatoes and cheese. Now it looked like a huge piece of black coal.
Ashamed, he placed the pan on the stove and stared at it in silence. Using the same cloth that he had taken before, he began to clean his face and hands. Even the gray-blue shirt of his uniform had ended up suffering some of that havoc; he had just picked it up that morning from the dry cleaner. In his head, he was already listening to his lieutenant, reprimanding him the next day for not showing up impeccably enough to his duties.
He had been barely a year and a half as a police officer, and half of that time had been office work and hanging around on his patrol at night. The other half was used for other activities, directly and indirectly, related to his work, but where he could make better use of his unique abilities. He hoped that this would help him progress rapidly and allow him to make better use of these skills. And, at least for the moment, everything seemed to be going in that direction.
But that night, his only goal was to make a decent enough dinner to be able to boast about it... but that goal now seemed far away.
"I think this shouldn't come out so toasted, right?" He commented jokingly, turning to see her mother over her shoulder.
Lynn Sear was sitting in a chair, turning to him with a wide amused smile. Her lips were glowing a beautiful rosy, and her cheeks were brimming with a discreet blush. Her curly dark brown hair was tied back in a small tail. Her blue eyes regarded him with a combination of mockery and compassion, both inspired by his more than evident failure. She wore a light orange dress over her slender body, high neck but with her arms uncovered.
"So long living alone, and you still haven't learned how to use an oven well?" The woman, barely thirty-six, questioned him, smiling brightly.
"I'm a cop, using an oven is not part of my duties," Cole said wryly. He then placed the rag over his shoulder and proceeded to throw the stew without much ceremony into the trash can.
"So, you must get a good wife to cook for you soon."
"What year do you think we live in?" He answered between a couple of laughs.
Cole then went to his fridge, fleetingly looking for any leftovers from past meals that might look appetizing enough to replace the failed stew. He found no such thing. He chose, at least initially, to have a beer.
"What makes you think that if I get a wife, she'll know how to cook better than me?" The officer asked, just after opening her bottle and taking the first drink.
"Just company could do you good," the woman declared in a subdued voice. Then she slowly turned her gaze, glancing briefly at her son's small apartment, which basically consisted of the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom (which was not actually larger than the kitchen), and a bathroom. "It's regrettable to go home alone every night, don't you think? Silence can be maddening."
Cole didn't answer anything for a few seconds, and then he opened the refrigerator once more.
"I'm not alone," he pointed out calmly. "I have you, mom."
The woman at the table turned slowly to him. Her gaze was somewhat dissipated.
After a few seconds of deliberation, Cole took a square disposable container out of the fridge. Inside were the leftovers from a plate of Chinese food from… not really remember how many nights ago it was. It was a little rice, a few pieces of meat and chicken, about three or four broccoli trees, and a few more vegetables. His appearance was not the best, but at least nothing looked blackened or decomposed. He smelled it for a second validation, and… it didn't smell quite right either.
"Well, this doesn't look so bad," he pointed out, not entirely convinced actually.
"You're not really going to eat that, are you?" Her mother chided with some alarm.
Cole shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose not," he replied simply, and headed back to the trash can, also throwing away the disposable plate with everything in it. "I can always order pizza, right?"
Then he went to the table where his mother was sitting. On it, he had left his cell phone. He took it to make that call.
"Cole..." the woman in front of him whispered, slowly... very slowly. "You can't keep doing this."
"Don't worry, I'm not going to go overboard with greasy food," the officer replied, searching through his frequent numbers for the pizza shop that was located two blocks from his apartment. "Someday. I've to learn how to cook properly, after all."
"No..." Lynn Sear whispered again, still in a muffled voice, but now she had grown weaker and throatier. "You can't keep bringing me here, honey..."
Cole's finger stopped moving on the touch screen of his phone. His gaze was fixed on the device, even though it only showed a series of contacts, and none was the one he was looking for. He didn't want to take his eyes off it, lift to the front, and look at her again. But in the end, he had to.
His light eyes focused on the figure of that woman, sitting on the other side of the table. That person, who was supposed to have been his mother, now was difficult for him to recognize. Her face had become pale and sickly, with no color in any section of it. Her complexion, once slender and beautiful, was now skeletal, hardly a shadow of what she was before. Her skin was glued almost entirely to her bones, framing the shape of her skull, with her eyes and cheeks sunken. Her beautiful brown hair was already almost completely gone, leaving only a few sparse gray strands falling around her head. And her eyes, her beautiful eyes, were now clouded, covered in a nebulous cloak, and though they, she seemed to look into absolute nothingness.
Cole had to look away almost immediately. During all those years, he had seen horrible images practically every day of his life. Mutilations, murders, suicides, blood, and bowels... But none caused him as much anxiety, as much repulsion and as awe as that: the final appearance of his beloved mother, who for better or for worse had been imprinted on his mind, no matter how much he would like to remember her the other way with that jovial smile, that warm gaze, and that unique beauty that in his eyes only she could possess.
"You have to let me go, Cole," he heard that hoarse, almost absent voice again, and it was as heartbreaking as seeing her directly. "You're not doing yourself any good with this... or me either..."
"I know..." The policeman stated firmly. He rested his clenched fists on the table, still keeping his gaze down to avoid looking at her. "But I can't help it... It's not fair. I still need you…"
"I'll always be there for you, my child…" A bony-fingered hand reached out across the smooth surface of the table towards him, staying in his range of vision without him being able to avoid it. Its colorless skin exposed the thin fibers of his superficial veins. "But you can't keep holding on to me. You must go ahead…"
"I don't want... no..." the man murmured, stifling a groan similar to pain. Small traces of tears were beginning to form in his eyes, threatening to flow. "What's the use of having these damn powers if I can't use them to see you...?"
"Don't underestimate the good you do or the good you'll do from now on. You have a beautiful future before you, Cole... but you'll miss it if you keep looking back..."
Cole breathed slowly, trying to dull the sobs that washed over him. Using all his willpower, he looked up at her again; it still looked the same. She looked so tired, so full of suffering and without any strength. She looked at him too, her eyes filled with sadness.
"Please, Cole..." Lynn let out a barely audible sigh. "It is very painful to be here..."
The boy's breathing sped up a little more, but he tried to normalize it as much as possible and stay calm. Timidly, he reached out his hand and clasped it tightly between his fingers. Despite her gaunt appearance, she squeezed him with considerable force as well.
Those tears and those sobs could no longer be contained.
"I love you, mom..." Cole murmured as the lump in his throat allowed him.
Lynn smiled at him as best she could with her thin, parched lips.
"I love you more, my brave child..."
Using all that he had of willpower again, Cole closed his eyes tightly and didn't open them until he stopped perceiving his mother's fingers in his; until the cold sensation had faded, and until he felt entire that he was once again alone. And opening them again, indeed it was: Lynn Sear was gone, and only he was left alone in that small apartment.
He sank down onto one of the chairs and ran his hands over his face. There was no stew, no Chinese food, and no pizza that night; he preferred to go to bed without dinner.
He enforced his mother's wish and didn't call her again after that night. And she didn't reappear before him… at least, not in a long time, and not until he needed her.
After the end of their session, Matilda took Samara to rest in her room. The girl did not fall asleep, but when she left her, she seemed calmer. The psychiatrist promised to see her later, and that seemed to cheer her up a bit. Her original plan was to talk with the girl about what had happened to Dr. Scott. However, after what had happened, Matilda did not know if it would be correct to alter Samara with that subject. If she did, she would have to do it very carefully.
Meanwhile, the psychiatrist had to meet Cole again to discuss what had happened and decide what to do next. She already had in mind what that path should be but, due to Eleven's orders, she had to talk to this man she had just met, and convince him to support her.
The police officer had come out to the hospital courtyard to clear his mind a little and smoke a cigarette. When Matilda came out to meet him, she saw him sitting on the same bench where the two of them and Cody had spoken to Eleven the night before.
Since they left the room, Matilda had felt a somewhat distant and thoughtful attitude in her forced partner. At first, she considered that it was natural because the situation they had just experienced was not precisely to be in a good mood and laugh. It took her a moment to fully recover too. However, seeing him sitting there with the same attitude, or even more marked than before, she was worried for a few moments that Samara had done something to him... just as she had done to Dr. Scott.
Cole was looking straight ahead, his body slightly bowed, his smoking cigarette between his fingers. His face was frozen in a cold expression, and he didn't seem to immediately notice her until Matilda cleared her throat a little. He was not surprised or something like that; simply turned to look at her slowly, and smiled in a friendly way, though it seemed much less sincere than usual.
"How is Samara?" Cole asked in a neutral tone.
"Calmer, or at least as calm as she can be in such a situation."
Matilda walked to the opposite end of the bench and sat there as if she wanted to keep distance between them.
"Does the smell of cigarettes bother you?" Cole questioned and immediately stubbed out what was left of his cigarette against the sole of his shoe.
"Not particularly," the psychiatrist replied apathetically, "although I don't love it either. But you can go on if you want."
"Don't worry, it was over. Besides, there are things to talk about, don't you think?"
Oh, yes, there were. Matilda had to accept that the session had was at least quite strange. She was ready for some eventuality to occur when it came to Samara's unique abilities. Still, she didn't expect something like what they'd seen to happen.
Both began to discuss their conclusions about the experience, although Matilda was quite direct and blunt.
"Multiple personality disorder?" Cole questioned uncertainly as if he feared he had mispronounced it, although it was not.
"It's a little common in shining children, actually," Matilda pointed out, crossing her legs. "They fail to explain or control what they do and create another personality that can. A stronger and smarter one that defends and guides them. Sometimes they aren't fully aware of its existence. In contrast, others see it as an imaginary friend or an older brother who takes care of them."
"You really think that's what we are talking about here?"
"It's a fairly reasonable explanation. Her primary personality is quite passive, while this other is more dominant and assertive. Furthermore, it explicitly stated that she wants to protect her, something very common in this type of case."
Cole leaned fully against the back of the bench and ran his fingers slowly through his short hair. He looked quite thoughtful, maybe even worried.
"If this is about that," he started to say without looking at her, "why hadn't you noticed it before? Or any of your other doctors?"
Matilda's face twisted a little in a thoughtful grimace. The question did not surprise or bother her; she had been doing it to herself.
"It isn't always easy to diagnose as people think," she pointed out in a serious tone, "especially since she hadn't shown noticeable signs of it before, or mental gaps, or amnesia. Her parents never mentioned any similar incident, nor did she during our previous sessions."
"Couldn't that be indicative of something else?"
"Not by itself. It may simply be that neither Samara nor her parents were aware of this so far. Or maybe the stress she has been under lately, also fueled by the monster's self-implanted idea, made the episodes more noticeable and drastic. Like what happened yesterday, or what we just saw."
Cole abruptly stood up from the bench and took a few steps away. Matilda followed him with her eyes. With one hand, he rubbed his chin, in which the first traces of a beard that would occupy being shaved in a couple of days seemed to be starting to grow. After a while, he brought his hands to his waist while his back was turned, and raised his gaze to the sky in a somewhat dramatic way for Matilda's taste.
"What about the fact that the other personality calls herself Samara Morgan?" Cole snapped suddenly, taking Matilda by surprise.
"What about that?"
"Well," he murmured dubiously, as he turned back to her, "in all the movies I've seen, that other personality has a different name, a way of behaving, and doesn't lie saying that it's the real person, right? Like Charlie and Hank from Me, Myself & Irene."
Matilda's right eyebrow arched in uncertainty, and also in disbelief at what she had just heard.
"Are you really refuting my diagnosis based on what you saw in a movie?" She questioned him accusingly. Cole just smirked a little and shrugged. "Well, I have also seen and read stories about possessions, and in them, the devil also has another name and personality, right? Or I don't remember The Exorcist demon saying his name was Regan MacNeil."
She noted at that moment how the detective stared at her with a marked surprise for a few moments, and then laughed lightly as if he had remembered a joke, although not entirely good.
"What?" Matilda questioned somewhat defensively.
"No, nothing," the officer replied calmly. "I just didn't think you were the type to watch horror movies."
Matilda's cheeks flushed slightly, and she instinctively turned away as if she wanted to cover it up.
"Maybe I read the book," she muttered slowly and calmly.
"Does that have a book?"
Matilda sighed, and then inhaled slowly, trying to regain her composure and get the conversation back on track.
"Listen, it isn't so strange that the secondary personality tries to convince external persons that it is the primary one. Internally, both know how to differentiate themselves. But, if it's necessary for its ultimate purpose, which in this case is to protect the primary personality, it can resort to pretending that it is her." She paused, adjusting her hair a little, shaken by the small breeze blowing in that courtyard. "Although I accept that in the situation we were in, it was a little strange because it was quite evident that she was not trying to convince us. Also, she referred to the real Samara in the third person when she said she wanted to protect her. And equally, if this other personality is guilty of the events that occurred before, with the horses on her farm and with her mother, it is also strange that Samara does remember them as made by herself and does not directly blame this other personality. It is a somewhat unusual case, I admit that, but not impossible to occur. Virtually every case of DID is different from each other. And above all, it is much more credible than the other option: a demonic possession, the explanation that for a long time people gave to this type of disease."
Cole said nothing, but it was not necessary for him to do so; it was quite evident that he was not at all convinced about what Matilda was saying. That did not surprise her. In fact, she was surprised that his original position was not defended with more energy, considering that from the previous day, he had been entirely convinced of it. Perhaps he had seen something that made him hesitate?
Matilda stood up and approached him a little to speak face to face, although Cole did not seem interested in holding her gaze or anything similar.
"Look," Matilda began to pronounce in a significantly calmer and more open tone, "your method was perhaps unorthodox, and I clearly disagreed. But I admit that it worked, and maybe it was the only way to really realize her real problem. If the patient is convinced that this other identity is something supernatural, sometimes it is necessary to treat it that way in the beginning so that it reacts. This is nowhere near the ideal scenario, but what happens to her can be treated and controlled. It may take years of therapy and medication, but she can go on and have a normal life. Believe it or not, we made significant progress today, and that was thanks to you."
Suddenly, she reached out her right hand to him and placed it on his arm. This gesture surprised Cole quite a bit, but even Matilda herself after a few seconds. She had practically done it without thinking, guided by the habit of establishing a little physical contact in similar situations to reassure a person. She completely forgot for a moment who that person she was trying to reassure was.
It took her a few moments to react, or rather to decide what to do. At last, she slowly removed her hand from his arm and pressed it against her. She was embarrassed inside, though she didn't show it on the outside. She discreetly cleared her throat and stood up straight.
"There is something else that bothers you, right?" She murmured suddenly in a reflective voice. Cole looked at her seriously, but without mutating. "Was it what the other Samara told you? Do you want to talk about it?"
"Do you want to give me therapy?" Cole questioned her, slightly defensive.
"I wouldn't call it like that. But if you think you need it..."
Matilda was silent, staring at him, awaiting his reply.
The previous day, during that outburst in the cafeteria, Matilda had let herself be carried away by her emotions. In addition to pushing him violently with her telekinesis, she had said some somewhat harsh things. Although she had apologized, or something like that, the truth was that she did not feel that she had succeeded entirely. She didn't externalize it fueled by her own pride, but internally she felt a little responsible. This responsibility came a little bit higher after being present and listening to everything that other Samara had just said...
"You are afraid all the time, of everything. Afraid of any dark corner in the room, any icy breeze that touches your skin, and any sudden sounds behind you. Because you know the horrors that are hidden in them, that haunt you and are always there stalking you. You cannot run away from them, nor stop seeing them. You are their food and their amusement, as a fearful mouse in the claws of a cat."
It was something that she had detected since the previous day: how underneath all that layer of apparent overconfidence, outgoing and joking attitude, was hide a person with fears, many fears, with whom he dealt in silence. How she had touched that point last night had not been correct, much less the most professional. Even within her apparent distaste for him, her head could be cool enough to realize it. She had touched a sensitive fiber when pointing it out to her, and that had pushed him to respond in the same way. So she feared the same thing might have happened with that latest incident.
Anyway, after a few seconds Cole smiled again abruptly in a carefree and calm way. He stepped back a step and raised his hands to the front as if signaling her to stay right where she was. To Matilda, that seemed defensive, although he tried to hide it.
"No, I'm fine," the detective replied immediately, shrugging. "It's just that things didn't go as expected. But still... I don't know." He sighed heavily, running his entire hand through his hair, front to back. "You didn't see or feel what happened in that room the same way as me."
"That is indisputable."
Cole took a second and took his pack out of his bag and took out another cigarette. Apparently, he no longer cared if Matilda was bothered by the smoke or not, although she had given him permission if she remembered correctly. The brunette was tempted to point out how bad it was to smoke so much, but she decided to hold back because perhaps it was neither the right place nor the right time for that.
The policeman placed the cigarette between his lips, lit it, and took a while longer to inhale it and apparently allow himself to feel the effects of the smoke passing through his body. He looked quite anxious, and apparently, that was his way of trying to relax a little. To be someone with more "experience" in that kind of thing, Matilda didn't expect to see him so upset after all.
"Listen..." he started to say when he was able to fully regain his composure. "For a moment, I could see the real face of that being, the one that you think is just another personality. I could feel it, as vividly as I have felt many other creatures similar to it. And what I felt was something very well known to me... but also different."
"Different in what way?" Matilda questioned, genuinely intrigued.
"What I felt, the energy that ran through my body when it took me that way, was clearly something non-human, something I can only name demonic." Matilda snorted exhausted, or at least she did it in her mind. She was about to answer him something, although it wasn't entirely clear what exactly, when he suddenly continued, with a much darker emotion in his voice. "However, that feeling that I saw in her eyes, that hatred, and resentment... I've only felt such things in ghosts; in human ghosts, I mean. Especially those who had a horrible death, and left this world with one final thought in their heads: revenge..."
Matilda did not know how to react precisely to what she heard. Beyond the difficulty of digesting the meaning, she was more disturbed by the tone in which he had spoken. So serious and concerned, or even... scared.
"That's a little contradictory," Matilda pointed out, trying not to sound assertive, "even trying to see things from your perspective. You said it was a demon, now you say it is a ghost or something similar? Which of the two is it, then?"
Cole turned to the side and inhaled from his cigarette again. He released all the smoke slowly through his mouth while staring in one direction for no specific reason.
"There may be a third possibility," he muttered suddenly, just before placing his cigarette once more in his mouth. "Eleven mentioned that you found the biological mother."
Matilda was a little confused by such a sudden mention.
"Yes, I did. Or something like that."
"Did you identify the father?"
"Not really. She told the nuns who cared for her that he didn't exist."
"Did she tell the father didn't exist?" Cole exclaimed in surprise, turning back to her. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know," Matilda replied shrugging. The chief nun was not clear about it. Apparently, she told them that Samara's father was something whispering to her from the sea, something not human..."
The psychiatrist fell silent, cutting off her words and whatever she was going to say after them. As soon as she was uttering that last sentence, her head tied up a few dots, and the fleeting idea that came to her mind left her paralyzed for a few moments because of how amazingly ridiculous it seemed to her. And when she saw how her companion looked at her expectantly, she realized that it was quite possibly the same idea that was crossing him, and that he had also realized that she had understood him.
"Oh no, of course not," Matilda murmured somewhat aggressively. "Please! That was just the hallucinations of a very affected woman."
"Are you sure?" Cole asked, noticeably interested. "You talked with her?"
"No, I just know that she was admitted to a psychiatric center after she tried to drown Samara when she was just a newborn. I don't even know if she's still there, or if she's alive."
"But you know what that center is, don't you?"
"Yes, but... do you want us to go there and talk to her?" Matilda murmured skeptically.
"She could be the key to solving this mystery."
"What mystery? There is no mystery here!" Matilda snapped with some force. "Just a girl who has been through a lot, with skills she cannot understand or control, and her mind is shattered by it. She needs us to give her proper treatment, not to go hunting demons."
"Listen," Cole muttered slowly, moving closer to her and facing her head on; Matilda didn't even blink. "You agreed to do things my way. You said to Eleven that you would help me and accept my point of view, didn't you?"
"I agreed to open my mind up to a point, yes. But I won't continue with this if I consider that it puts at risk the treatment and improvement of my patient."
Cole sighed wearily and took a few steps away from her. He turned his back on her and took a couple more puffs of his cigarette. Matilda wondered how much he was thinking. If it was that her answer stressed or angered him, well, she doesn't care. She wouldn't give up that easy.
After a few moments, Cole turned to her again, now with a not so challenging attitude, but still, she did not let her guard down.
"Okay, listen, let's just do this, this one more thing. Let's talk to the mother as soon as possible. Let's go together, let's see what she has to say. And if we don't get anything out of it, we'll do things your way. Agree?"
Matilda watched him silently, somewhat apprehensively.
"Seriously?"
"Totally."
"What if she's not there anymore? Or if she passed away?"
"We'll see what to do then if that's the case. What do you say?"
He smiled back at her broadly and candidly, as annoyingly as he had done most of the day before. But whatever it was, Matilda felt her cheeks heat up again, so she quickly turned away. What way to react was that?
She took a few deep breaths to calm down.
"Maybe I'll have to make some calls," she answered quietly without looking at him. "I don't know when we can do it..."
"It must be as soon as possible," Cole pointed out with determination. "The longer we wait, the more risk we run that something like last night happens again."
"Well then, I'll see what I can do," Matilda pointed out finally and went immediately to look for her phone inside her bag.
"Thanks, you won't regret it," Cole commented with a strange enthusiasm, raising his two thumbs at her as well. This, for some reason, was a little funny to Matilda, and a slight smile appeared on her lips, although having her face bent over her bag, she hoped she could hide it.
Just as she managed to get out her phone, she noticed how the officer, without saying a word, turned around and started walking towards the building door.
"Where're you going?"
"Facing a being like this whets my appetite," he replied simply, raising a hand in the air as he walked away. "I'm going to get something from the vending machine, do you want something?"
"No, thanks," she replied insecurely, but he didn't even seem willing to wait for her to really answer him. He continued on his way until he entered, and she lost sight of him
Matilda wondered if that last comment had been serious, or was he just playing around. Until yesterday, she thought she could quickly identify something like that when the subject involved ghosts and demons; now, she wasn't entirely sure.
Cole didn't lie about going to the vending machine, although the comment about his appetite wasn't exactly right. What he had the least at those moments was hunger, but high anxiety that not even a cigarette took away from him.
The truth was that he had not told the whole truth to Matilda, because there was no easy way to express in words everything that crossed his mind at the time. He understood that it was her job to see everything from the psychiatric perspective, and the best way to help her patient. But Cole feared that this, coupled with her stubbornness in refusing to accept that there might be unknown forces involved in it all, would prevent her from seeing the true size of what they were facing. Not even he was quite sure of it yet. Still, everything inside him was shouting it to him, and it was too insistent a voice that he couldn't remain silent.
The closest machine was in the center of a long corridor, which at the time was totally deserted; no nurse, doctor, or a patient was seen or heard around. He reviewed without much interest the products exposed behind the protective glass. Nothing particularly caught his eye, although, in the end, he leaned more for a bag of salted peanuts placed at number 27. He inserted the necessary coins into the machine and pressed the option. The mechanism began to rotate, but the peanut bag remained attached to just one corner of the package.
Cole looked at this with disappointment and some annoyance. Perhaps that was yet another indication that it was not his day, and that indeed forces greater than himself were playing dice with their destiny at the moment.
"Number 27 always gets stuck," he heard someone pronounce at his right hand, taking him by surprise.
The officer jumped startled and turned quickly toward that direction. A brown woman wrapped in a pink pajama, and beneath it a white hospital gown, looked at him with a wide amused smile that showed her perfect white teeth. She was a woman in her forties, perhaps, with light brown curly hair and a little tousled. Her eyes were blue and serene, and her white face showed only a few wrinkles and age marks. She didn't wear any makeup, but still, her lips looked very natural and attractive red. Her hands were hidden inside the bags of her pink robe, in a slightly relaxed posture.
"I think it's some kind of booby trap," she said, amusedly, glancing at the jammed peanut package. "Just give the machine a few hits on the left side, and it will fall."
Cole looked at her with some doubt, then looked at his longed-for package as well, although, in reality, it was not so longed-for.
"I don't think that's worthy of a law enforcement officer."
"I won't tell anyone if you don't," the woman commented, shrugging.
He hesitated a little more, but in the end, he listened to her. He did just what she told him to, hitting the side of the machine a couple of hard blows. The peanut packet came loose and fell into the product dispatch area. Cole bent down and removed it without further problem.
As he was crouched down, he heard a sound, but so slow and far away that he could hardly tell if he had actually heard it.
He stands up again, already with the peanuts in his hand, and looked gratefully at the mysterious woman.
"Thanks," he murmured as he opened the bag.
"Gema," the woman said suddenly. "In case you were wondering, my name is Gema."
"Well, thanks, Gema. My name is Cole."
"A pleasure," the woman agreed. "You are very handsome, you know?"
"Not really," he replied sarcastically.
Cole tilted the packet over his hand and poured three peanuts into his palm, inserting them once into his mouth. They were too salty, but he couldn't get too picky.
Again he heard that distant sound, like an annoying buzzing in his ear.
"Tell me, Gema," said the man between chews, "should you be out of your room right now?"
Gema smiled and shrugged again.
"No one stopped me from going out."
"Of course." Cole took a few more peanuts, not taking his eyes off that woman. "How long have you been here exactly?"
Gema's gentle face did not mutate, but it did take her a while to reply.
"A long, long time..." she whispered slowly and a little muffled. "But that's not your real question, is it? What you want to ask me... is how I died..."
Cole remained calm after those words. In fact, he even ate more of his peanuts with complete peace of mind. As soon as he saw her, he realized that she was not just a patient, but something much more complicated. H had been doing what he does for too long to not notice it.
"It's not a great story," Gema murmured, adjusting her fringe. "Only one day I went to sleep, and the next morning... well, let's just say that everything got much colder."
That sounded familiar enough to him.
Once again, he thought he heard something, but now more clearly. Was it his name? Has anyone said "Cole"?
"Those who are like you, so aware of their true state, are unusual, did you know?"
"If it's your way of telling me I'm special, I appreciate it, handsome."
"Is there something holding you here, Gema?"
"I don't think so. I just like to walk around here once in a while. It amuses me to see the people of this site, sane and not. People... have always been fascinating to me..."
"I guess..."
"Cole!" He listened vividly now, just behind him; a sharp, loud scream that almost made him jump.
Cole turned quickly, alarmed, and then he saw her. She was less than a meter from him, staring at him with her blue eyes filled with horror, and he recognized her at the first second. It was her mother, her late mother, with her healthy appearance before her illness ended her and left her in that final state.
Cole froze in amazement, unable to utter a word. But still, he wouldn't have had time to say anything, because immediately his mother screamed at him, with such force that her recognizable voice echoed deep in his ears.
"Don't listen to her! She's not what she seems!"
Cole did not understand; his mind felt too fuzzy to understand. He instinctively turned back to Gema, and only then did her mother's warning makes any sense.
The other woman's appearance had drastically changed in just a second. Her hair had become a tangle of ash-colored strands that pointed in all directions. Her skin had turned pale and grayish, and her face was covered in raw flesh-colored open sores. Her eyes were larger, seemed to almost protrude from their sockets, and were totally black. But the most impressive thing was her mouth, which would have gone virtually from ear to ear as if it had been opened by cutting the cheeks with a knife. It formed a horrible grimace that perhaps tried to simulate being a smile. That horrible mouth exposed an entire row of sharp, thin, yellowish, dirty fangs, like hundreds of rusty nails.
Before Cole could recover from his shock, the woman reached out her long slimy hands to him, gripping his face tightly.
"You got into the wrong hole, handsome" Gema murmured in a thick, raspy voice, and a long greenish tongue peeked out of his mouth full of sharp fangs. "Come and give me a kiss…"
She pulled him hard toward her, but Cole resisted. He placed his hands against her neck, pushing herself back. The creature's tongue flapped like a snake on the attack, staining his face with a thick substance that burned his skin a little. Cole then lifted her right leg and kicked her hard in her chest, pushing her back. The slim body of that creature propelled itself down the hall, falling to the ground resting on its hands and feet as if it were a reptile. In the same way, similar to a lurking animal, it lunged at him while making horrible grunts.
Cole was not on duty, so he did not carry his weapon with him. Plus, he was not sure if it would work with that creature, whatever it was. But he had other ways of dealing with monsters like that. He remained standing, calm in his position as she approached him. He took a deep breath, relaxed, released his hands, and just as the creature leaped at him, he jerked his right fist forward, digging into the center of her face. Her head was completely pushed back, with a sharp sound as if something had broken inside. The creature fell with its back to the ground, lashing out.
Cole immediately stepped over her and gripped her neck tightly with both hands, squeezing it.
"Who are you?! What's your name?!" He demanded rigorously, but the monster only responded with grunts, and its elusive tongue flailing at him. She caught his arms with her fingers, snapping her sharp claws into his skin. That caused him great pain, but Cole held firm. "Obey me! Who are you?! What do you want?!"
Slowly, the creature's growls ceased, and a broad grin spread across her face, exposing her fangs once more with a cunning grimace.
"We'll see each other again, handsome..."
The monster's black eyes flashed in two intense flares, and the fire quickly began to spread to the rest of its face, and then its body. Cole promptly pulled away from her, backing away. He watched from a distance as Gema's body writhed on the ground and screamed in pain as the flames consumed her until leaving only a dark and charred figure in place.
Cole stepped back, breathing hard until his back hit the vending machine. He stared silently at that all-black humanoid figure, petrified with her twisted arms and legs. Little by little, it fell apart, leaving ashes on the ground.
"Cole, Cole," he heard his mother's voice murmur beside him and felt her place her hand gently on her arm to get her attention.
He looked at her, and although at first he doubted it was really her, in the end, he was sure. Not because of her appearance, not because of her blue eyes or the sound of her voice, but because of the warm sensation caused by her mere presence. After so many years, she would appear before him again, even though he hadn't called her.
"That thing... how did it fool me?" He questioned in alarm, pointing to the pile of ashes. "What was that…?"
"Listen to me, Cole," his mother pointed out, taking him by the face to force him to stare at her. Her voice sounded apprehensive. "I don't have much time, I have to warn you. You are in grave danger."
"Danger?" He murmured slowly, still lost in thought.
"This case in which you have been involved is more dangerous than you think. You have to leave as soon as possible, get away from this whole thing. Or else... you'll die... and she too..."
Cole looked at her, confused.
"Who?" He questioned lost, and then looked subtly over his shoulder down the hall to where the exit to the courtyard stood. "Are you talking about Matilda?"
"I can't tell you more... And I can't stay longer." She retook his face so that she could look him in the eye. "I love you, my brave boy... Please take care of yourself..."
"No, mom, wait!"
In a blink, the woman completely vanished, leaving him totally alone in that hallway, just as she had left him in his apartment six years ago.
He looked then to where Gema had perished, but the ashes weren't there either, nor any other trace of the strange creature except for the wounds it had done to his arms.
He was really alone...
He fully leaned his back against the machine, nervously running his fingers through his hair. His breathing was shaky, and his heart was pounding. That unexpected encounter with that creature, that sudden warning by his own mother... All that did nothing more than emphasize what had concluded after that session with Samara, and everything he had seen and felt in her. What he hadn't told Matilda because there was no easy way to explain it.
What was happening to Samara Morgan was something much more dangerous than the psychiatrist had realized, something that surpassed her, him, or even Eleven... Something that, in effect, could lead them all straight to their deaths…
END OF CHAPTER 32
Author's Notes:
—Lynn Sear is based on the character of the same name from the movie Sixth Sense of 1999, respecting the events of the original film until the final moment of it.