Wednesday January 16th, 2013 - 8:00 P.M.
Drive to Police Station / Police Station
The coldness had already seeped deep into Emmy's very soul as she sat back in Lizzie's car. Corey had been taken away fifteen minutes ago and yet, her friend was still standing across the street, as if she hoped this was all a dream. Though the face that Samantha had displayed during that horrendous seizure was more than enough to prove to Emmy that they were both very much awake. "Liz? You may want to get back in the car now. It's twenty below and you're only wearing a thin jacket!" Her voice rang across the snow strewn road, yet her friend wouldn't budge. "I know you're confused and hurting and I get that, but you won't do yourself any good by freezing to death!" Her words were doing nothing to even jar Lizzie back to reality.
The girl was practically on her knees, staring at the spot where Officer O'Mara's squad car once resided. Snow had been falling for the last five minutes, or so Emmy felt as she watched the flakes blow around in the street light. Come on! I'm freezing my ass off here! Please God, tell me she left her keys… Oh thank you. Thank you Jesus! She had already, sub consciously, flipped the engine on and set the heater to full blast. It was all she could do to try and feel something, other than the irritation and sadness she had been feeling towards Lizzie. Fuzzy waves coursed her legs, then straight up her back into her neck.
At the time she had been picturing herself floating in a sun drenched pool at the Bahamas. At that moment, there were only sounds of rushing ocean water and the chatter of travelers like her, pronouncing their love to all those around them. She could practically taste the sweetness of a tequila, washing her worries away. For those moments, she was happy. Happier than she'd ever felt for the last couple of days. Then a door to her left slammed shut and the imagery came crashing back down. Instead of the beautiful sandy beaches from her mental vacation, she was in this frozen hell; the white blanket of Winter damaging any remnants of her euphoria.
"I see you turned the heat on, th-thank God!" The annoyance Emmy felt had only magnified by this point, but she stifled it down. "Look at me Em, please?" The girl's plea had ripped her heart; she forced herself to look over, though wished she hadn't when their faces met. "Jesus! Liz, you look like shit." Wow…Smooth move there dumb ass! She quickly turned back towards the door, pretending to be fishing for something in her coat pocket. The car engine roared and the stick shift switched to first, as Emmy felt herself being pushed up against her door.
They had taken off past the Cortland Standard, past the YMCA and dozens of college frat houses. Emmy stole a quick glance back at her friend, who's skin looked clammy and ghostly pale. She felt the same exact way, and driving by the Cemetery didn't help her problems at all. In fact, it only made her panic internally; she could practically hear the voices of the dead speaking to her from beyond the grave. Their hushed whispers of spiritual conversation rushed throughout her head.
"What're your plans for tonight?" This voice; it sounded very raspy and low, mixed altogether with worry. "Can I help you?" She replied. It never freaked her out; the ability to communicate with spirits, not anymore anyway. Ever since her tenth birthday, she had the ability to converse with the other side, starting with her grandmother. She wanted more than anything to just live in the present at that moment, so she tried. She strained her eyes; gazing out at the main highway, when they stopped abruptly. "Are you okay?"
It wasn't the man's voice who spoke to her, and she knew he was still there, lingering in her sub conscience. Lizzie's worried question was pulling her away, distancing her from the man who seemed to be trying to hold onto her. She could feel him straining; tugging on the very edges of her mind. "Look at me." Emmy did; she watched those eyes like so many times before. The way Lizzie was playing with her hair indicated to her that she was thinking. Seconds later, her friend was biting her tongue, chewing on it; she knew thoughts were running like a wild stampede in her head. "Can you tell me why we stopped beside the cemetery?"
"Yeah, sorry. I just realized that the police station is behind us… I'll bet you that Officer O'Mara made a U-turn a little while back, probably more than three or four blocks ago, cause this leads up towards the Super Center." Lizzie's reply came back fast. Emmy's own mind was too distracted for her to comprehend her friend's dilemma, as the man's voice returned. "I asked if you could help me… You can, can't you? I mean, you can understand what I'm saying?"
"Indeed, I can. My issue is, why are you talking to me? Why now? Most people who need help crossing over come to me when I'm relaxed or when I'm in a calmer environment. Here you are, plaguing me as we pass by a graveyard. Who are you anyway?" She hadn't even realized, until now, that the car was already moving, as they drove back towards the frat houses. Her mind had already been floating back towards the conversation at hand. Not even Lizzie's hand grasping her own could stop the man from speaking.
"I've been a lost soul for a while now and I've heard talk that you can speak to spirits, like me. I've heard how you helped them cross over so they could truly rest in peace." "That is true. But I only do it when those who ask me deserve it. For the most part, I can feel what they feel when they approach me. I can tell whether or not a spirit is deserving of my assistance, normally within the first few minutes of contact. I don't know about you. You're giving off some sort of… angry energy. There's definitely a sort of coldness pouring off of you."
"Are you talking to a spirit?" Lizzie asked. "W-What?" It took most of her remaining energy to focus on her friend; concern was etched into the girl's face. "How'd you know?" "Are you sure, you're okay Em? You sound tired." Emmy had just realized they were passing back by Corey's apartment and towards the main street market area. Lights had been attached to trees and lampposts, giving a nice warm glow to the sidewalks. Slush was caked to the edges of them, with a thin layer of snow still hugging the street itself.
"Em, are you there?" Emmy couldn't find the energy to reply; the spirit rampaging inside her was zapping her energy. "It's okay, just stay relaxed! I have to take care of something before we hit up a hotel, alright?" The car turned into the court house parking lot, with the police station resting where it always has been. A light firm grasp of her hand, stirred her a bit, followed by a quick rub before she heard Lizzie exit the car. Her hair bounced as it usually did, until the police station swallowed her up. She saw the darkness ahead, creeping only as far as the parking lot lamps would allow it.
"Are you gonna help me or not? I know you say I'm giving you some bad vibes, but I assure you that this is not the case. Maybe it's because you're over stressed? It is pretty late; you could be tired, you know," the man replied. She heard that hint of agitation in his voice. Something about this guy wasn't cutting it for her; he had to go. "I'm sorry sir, but like I said before, I don't think I can assist you. Please vacate my mind so that I can move on with my life. I hope you'll be able to repent for whatever sins that you have committed, and that your soul will be able to rest in peace soon."
All of a sudden, energy flowed back throughout her veins. All the negative energy that man poured off onto her, disappeared in an instant. She couldn't get the ringing out of her ears, but knew it would go on its own. That was when the realization of where they were set in. Orange lights were cast from the police station ahead to the right. "Oh Liz… I hope and pray you know what you're doing." She just let the heaviness on her eyelids give way, and slowly began dozing off. A shiver formed; she knew the heat was on but also that the angry spirit's chilling presence was still there.
* * * *
8:10 P.M.
Inside the Cortland P.D.
The cold cement floor was not meant to cushion the human body. Excruciating pain rested in Corey's chest, stomach and head. His insides were on fire at that point and his skull wasn't doing any better. He could make out just a couple sets of feet now, which was better than the four or five he saw earlier. The prison inmates had been beating him senseless for a short while now, and until that particular moment, he thought he was going to die. Had the guards not come in, dropping of their dinners, he probably would have.
"Get up you piece of shit!" He felt himself being pulled up off the floor, and was slammed against the door. The entirety of his left eye was swelled shut as well as the majority of his right. A certain blurriness took hold; he couldn't even see the facial expressions the two burly men before him, displayed. "Are y-you done yet?" he didn't want to sound weak, but he wanted this torment to end. That must be how she felt. She wanted her suffering to end too… You deserve this Corey; you know you do. The tiny voice in his head spoke the truth, despite how much he wanted this all to end.
Another blow was thrown deep into his stomach, forcing liquid to pour from his mouth. He saw the red specks contrasting against all the white before his eyes. "You sick fuck! You better not have anything… UGH! Guards!"
A sickening crack sounded as his knees hit the floor. Behind him the sound of metal stole his concentration. The door slid open and then a familiar voice brought him back from the brink of passing out. "Core? Is that you?" "L-Lizzie?" He didn't want her to see him like this, so he slid over to the bench and hid his face. It was all he could do as to not scare the one last good thing in his life. "Core, look at me." Her voice was a foot or so away from him. "What're you doing here?" What the fuck did you ask that for?! Are you seriously that stupid?!
The blurry vision refused to leave, even though he rubbed his eyes more than ten times by that point. He needed to see her face. If anything was going to deliver him from all of this, it would be that blonde beauty beside him. Finally, things began to come into focus. The four other guys were sitting at the opposite side, talking amongst themselves. Most of them were bald with long, thick beards and each had scraggly white muscle shirts on. The room itself was only ten by fifteen feet, with benches lining the edges. A pale white light met his eyes now, and then, Lizzie's own were doing the same.
She looked agitated to him. He knew she was, especially when her arms would cross and she was biting her bottom lip. "What's up baby?" "Don't fucking call me that! You know what? I don't even care that you got beat up in here, you fucking deserved it!" He saw her eyebrows furrow; that look of disgust was tearing him to pieces, even worse than the inmates behind him. "Baby, you have to hear me out, please. It's all I'm asking; just one moment to tell you my side of the story…" "You're fucking side of the story?! What side is that?"
Her furious words stung worse than his eyes. He felt all nervous and clammy, with a constant cold sweat patch laced to the back of his shirt. "I-If you'd just let me…" "No! You shut up now and listen good!" He felt the weight of her anger forcing him back onto the bench. She was only inches from his face now; her warm breath caressed his skin. "It was hard to resist her, wasn't it Core? You like having the girl whimper when you do things to her; it's the only thing that gets you off, remember? Don't you remember all those times we had sex?! All those times where you forced me to; to do these horrible things with you?!"
She actually smiled this time; it was worse than her anger. This grin sent icy chills into his chest. He wanted more than anything to be away from this place; to be back up in his apartment, preparing himself for his future. But no, he was there with his ex girlfriend grilling him after he was savagely beaten up by six bikers. Though his focus was not on them anymore; it wouldn't leave the face before him. She took a step back, bringing a sense of relief through him. "You make me fucking sick!" The way she shook her head, tapping her foot; he knew she was upset.
Being able to observe her body language verified his thoughts. When she'd pace back and forth, that was when he truly knew she had been pushed over the edge. Preparing himself for a barrage of aggravated phrases, he was amazed when they never arrived. Instead, she was already walking over to the door, asking to be let out. When the door clanged open, Lizzie went to leave, but stopped just short of turning the corner. Please, just leave already. Corey felt himself swallowing his worry away.
She only turned her head; her lip shook a bit. "Y-You are a d-disgusting excuse for a boyfriend. You…treated Samantha like garbage, you couldn't control yourself… and you'll-just-keep-DOING-it won't you?" "Baby…" Her hand waving cut him off instantly. A bit of annoyance rested in the pit of his stomach as well. She never lets me speak when she's upset with me. She never will either. "You see, that's what I'm talking about. You go and get lost in your brain as if everything around you isn't even existing right now!"
He kept his attention focused on his feet. They slid back and forth so easily; it transfixed him. "Look at me damn it!" She sounded like she was only a foot away again. Sure enough, her face was so close, he could see the specks in her irises. The smell of perfume wafted off of her, easily entertaining his nostrils. Blood rushed throughout him; arousal began to take place. He tried his hardest to hide it, but it was too late. "You really are a sick fucking pig, Core. Even now, when I'm scolding you in a holding cell, you can't stop yourself from thinking about sex."
He wanted to tell her off; to say to her that it wasn't his fault he felt this way. His mouth was already open, but words refused to exit. Guilt took its course again, and it took all the energy he could muster, to not up and cry in front of all these witnesses. He watched Lizzie turn and stop at the doorway once more; her head was cocked just a bit. She's thinking of a dramatic exit… I'll bet she is. She did this to him every time. Whenever they'd even bicker about something pointless, Lizzie always had to say something so dramatized, as to stop him from winning the fight.
"That's really rich, how you keep defending yourself. 'Oh, I can't stop myself. I have these powerful urges. I have no self control…' Shut the fuck up already! Damn it! I fucking loved you Corey! I wanted to marry you. I wanted to have kids with you and now the more I stand in this room, the closer I get to vomiting." The way she whipped around, facing him under those blinding lights; it scared him. He wished he could sink into the cracks of those walls, so he could hide away like a shadow, never to be paid attention to ever again. "I don't want your sick, twisted, nasty piece of shit dick anywhere near me. If you get out, it'll be a fucking miracle, cause I'm praying hardcore for your ass to be processed."
These words were different than any other time they would argue. They weren't just words of endless, pent up gloom; they were laced with a completely opposite emotion inducing feeling. She sounded exultant, as if she finally cut ties with him for good. Never before had her words hurt him as bad as they did now. Corey knew, deep inside, as Lizzie's hair whipped around the corner and the door closed, that he would never see her again. He'd never get to smell that fresh strawberry scent she always used or feel her warming lips pressed against his. This was his life now; the life he chose when he couldn't stop or say no to himself. The life where he was scarred forever, but not as deeply as the victim of his selfishness.