Do You Believe..?

So here's something I thought I'd share today.

See, I took Halloween off to do errands and hang out with my family and stuff.

There's a friend of the family that takes care of my Grams some days, and her 13 year old son was recently hospitalized. So my sister left her kids at my parent's house and we went to go see her - check up on our friend.

So..I can't lie. Sometimes I live in my own little world. Especially lately - I've been trapped between work and other stuff..and trying to swim with a 50 pound weight tied to my leg. And that's where things go wrong..and every now and then, it's good to have someone come by and slap you in the back of the head and bring you back to the REAL world.

Well, that's what sisters are for, I guess.

So she told me about our friend..and that we should go see her, take a cake or something. Usual stuff?

In the car, my sister gave me a black bead to wear and put one on herself. If you're not familiar with a black bead..it's a small bracelet made of black beads that are worn to ward off evil, protect newborn babies from the evil eye, etc. Superstitious stuff, but not something you'd ever try your luck with.

Well, now why would I need a black bead to see our friend? So I prod my sister who doesn't say much on the short drive over. Just that I should put on the black bead and be quiet.

Here's a little secret. I'm a big fat fraidy cat.

Yes, I am.

I'm afraid of my own shadow some days. I can sucessfully scare myself with my own imagination - no help needed. And my sister knows all of this..and has always used it to torment me endlessly.

But she also knows..that I'm not a..let's test our luck or put ourselves somewhere..we shouldn't.

So anyway, we get to my friend's house and we go in..and of course my friend looks like shit run over - which is expected, I think, when your children are sick.

So my sister and I sit down..and the first clue that something was wrong hit me..and I dug my nails into my sister's leg. All of the mirrors in the house were covered with sheets.

So I think..maybe Halloween prank?

Then the screaming starts upstairs and I'm practically sitting in the chair with my sister. Screaming..high pitched..then deep..like an old man.

So our friend breaks down crying. And my sister comforts her..and I'm planning an escape route..back door..front door..bay window..it's a little muddled. But I'm fucking SCARED. Let me tell you.

Old many screaming..shrieks..it goes on for a few minutes and then stops.

So here's the story..

A few weeks ago, my friends son started..getting violent. Started smashing things..hitting his sister..and then withdrawing into the basement of the house.

Sounded to me like..something..maybe..bipolar disorder..schizophrenia..something along those lines?

Then she says he starts speaking..in a different voice..with a different accent..

Answers to his name on and off.

The school calls her..tells her he needs to see a psychiatrist. He's throwing fits..tantrums..breaking things..hitting other students....doing the different voice thing in class.

So he can't go back to school until these "episodes" stop.

She takes him to the psychiatrist..the kid bugs out in the doctor's office.

She calls the local pandit (a Hindu priest, if you will). Who speaks to him.

The kid tells him..he used to live in this house..and he wants them to get out..to leave the house now. They don't belong there. He uses the voice.

The same old voice yelling upstairs.

That's not an old person. That's the kid yelling. And I'm shivering.

Is he restrained? Come on, yeah, I asked. I need to know if Linda Blair's brother is about to spiderwalk down the stairs and kill me.

No. He's sitting in his room. He's not restrained. He's just there. Screaming. Alone.

I think I've started drawing blood out of my sister's leg.

I kind of start to hope they're just pulling a Halloween prank on me. But my friend..she's never really looked like shit before. She's not faking this.

The screaming starts again..and my sister and I graciously excuse ourselves (she excuses..I just kinda bolt for the door).

In the car we talk about it..about what we would do..move out..research the history of the house..etc. But we believe. I mean, I know it sounds crazy. But I believe in the things (good and bad) that we can't see.

So I pose the question.

Do you believe?


XOXO,
B