It was dark. There was a wood stove in the corner, but everything else was blurry. It was so cold. I had to start a fire. My body drifted toward the cast iron monstrosity, and from atop it, I grabbed a box. There was an intricate cross embossed on the cardboard. I tried to slide it open, but I was shivering so badly that most of the contents fell on the floor, they were matches. I picked one from the box and held it as if my life depended on it – because it did. The door of the stove was hard to open, and the hinges squeaked. There weren’t any burn marks, let alone ash within it. Still clutching the match, I struck it, but nothing happened. I tossed it into the stove and grabbed another, then another, then another. All had the same result. When the box was empty, I crumpled and discarded it on the floor while reaching down to take matches from the dropped stock rolling away. After a majority yielding nothing, finally, sizzling flame and winding smoke arose from the last few tips I struck. They fizzled, however, shortly after putting them into the stove. All I wanted was to be warm.

An arm wrapped around my torso and tried to lift me. I could barely focus, and I was so hungry that it hurt. I felt like I was dying of thirst in an ocean. I knew that I shouldn’t drink the water, but I took a sip anyway. Relief washed over me. I heard a gasp. My attempt to take another sip was thwarted by the surf surging away. The arm was no longer around me. I opened my eyes to features of the restroom I’d stumbled into. The man from the stalls had just thrown open the exit and fled. I couldn’t conceal a smile and giggled, “He didn’t even wash his hands.” There were windows above the sinks in front of me. Pulling myself to my feet, I tried to look through one of them, but there was a man in the way.

Spots of dirt mixed with ruffled black hair. He was pale with very light gray, almost white, eyes. He smiled at me. Blood dribbled from his lips and down his chin. His ensemble was comprised of a loose tie and an untucked, torn dress shirt caked with grime and gore. It contributed to his unkempt, haggard appearance, but more than his clothes, his face told his story. Sorrow, longing, and pain were barely hidden behind a strained smile that had been held too long. The man’s ghoulish smirk sank with realization. Restaurant bathrooms didn’t have windows above the sinks.

The situation was coming back to me. I had to perform triage, but my thoughts still swam. Using the remainder of my scant energy, I condensed it into my head with the intent to fix the damage. After some time, my mind became clearer, and the rest of my body could be assessed.

The amount of blood I threw up led me to believe the source of it was my stomach. I could take breaths, but they were ragged and pained. I palpated ribs all the way down my torso. There seemed to be one broken and four cracked. I also felt an aching pain in my legs with a spike and instability whenever I eased my weight off the sink, possibly fractures with some torn muscles. I wiped blood away from my arm and felt around. Nothing broken and the bites were gone.

I was stunned. My body wasted all my energy healing the bites but didn’t bother with any of the other damage. My brain was messed up and my stomach was filled with blood, but according to my subconscious, I was on death’s door from the itchy booboos.

Someone opened the door behind me and entered the room. “Sir, if you don’t leave, I’m calling the police,” a bald, heavyset guy warned. He must have come to investigate the commotion caused by the man from the stall. He wore an apron and underneath, a polo with the restaurant chain’s logo embroidered on it, but he really should have gone with a bigger size. “Oh my god! You’re covered in blood!”

“N-no, it’s not blood,” I replied weakly. “I threw up the fruit punch.” His name tag read ‘Jeff, shift manager’. I took my capacity to read as a sign that my brain was doing better.

“We don’t have fruit punch!” he exclaimed. For death’s sake, what fast food place doesn’t have fruit punch? Not that I thought he would have believed me.

Flight wasn’t an option since he was blocking the exit. I had to incapacitate him. I reached out to punch him, but a sharp pain in my legs caused me to stumble; they probably weren’t just fractured. Falling to the floor gave me an opportunity, however.

Pain surged in my head as it whipped back from a swift size 12 anti-slip kick to the forehead. I could have done without it, but my efforts were worth getting a face full of rubber. My hand had a firm grip around the manager’s ankle. I plunged my mind into his body and braced myself for an adventure.

---

There was almost no resistance entering his thoughts. He had next to no spiritual defenses. It was like walking through gelatin made of air. The ability to manipulate energy gave you an extra layer of protection from unwanted access. Depending on your strength of will, it could be like punching through anything between mud and steel. Shawn’s barrier, for example, felt like bursting through a window.

Lockers were on both sides of me. Backpack toting teenagers swarmed the tiled hallway. There was a man closing his locker. He was wearing khakis, a black polo, and an apron with a nametag on it: ‘Jeff, shift manager’.

I groaned. Internalized experiences from high school were always super awkward. Rejection, being bullied, dropping a ball during the big game, getting caught having sex, prom; it was almost always embarrassing and awful to watch and feel.

He was an adult, so it wasn’t exactly a memory. That meant I was probably able to influence things, but when he walked past me, he was taller than I remembered. A subtle anxiousness crept into my thoughts. Hesitantly inspecting myself, my fear was confirmed. He cast me as part of the scene, and to my dismay, as a freshman, judging by my size.

I trudged after Jeff with the intent to cause physical harm, but before catching up, due to his long strides, someone else beat me to him. A beefcake in a letterman jacket pushed Jeff into a row of lockers and held him there. The freakishly large boy bore into the manager’s eyes with murderous intent.

“Stay away from Jessica; you have no chance with her.” The beast of a high school kid whispered emphatically. That single sentence gave me a theory on the situation. It was a half-memory. Jeff must have been an awkward, pimple-faced kid and now he was reliving the past as an adult to give him control of the situation. Then he could overcome the bully and his crush on this girl, Jessica, could finally be acted upon.

Nerds always fantasized about the prettiest girl in school, and she was usually the prom-queen cheerleader type that dated the quarterback, but I guess it could have been this other jock. No, that couldn’t be right. He looked too simple, lacking in personality. He was a bully and based on his size, he played defense. Being paired with a pom-pom toting heartthrob didn’t seem possible so he must have been a lackey for the quarterback.

Jeff replied at the same volume, “Get over her, Terry. She doesn’t love you anymore. She wants me now.” Well, I got sacked on the first down. Maybe she realized nerds were the future and overcame the cheerleader-football player dating stereotype.

“She won’t leave me. I know too much and if I can’t have her, no one will.” Terry said. He paused. Then he said in a hushed threat, “I’ll talk.”

“Don’t be stupid! The police would question you too. We’d be the talk of the school and coach would probably drop us from the team.” Jeff whisper-yelled. The colors of the scene faded a little and Jeff spoke to no one in particular as if it were an aside that he didn’t bother stepping into a spotlight at the front of a stage. “That’s how it all started.”

Terry continued speaking to the manager as the lights flared, “What do I care? The coach chose you to start. You’d be in the spotlight, and I could just fade into the background.” The dastardly smile that appeared on his face was revolting. Rather than think I got tackled after a couple yard gain on second down, once blackmail and the police were mentioned, I forewent my football analogy. This wasn’t high school. It was a tantalizing soap opera.

I enforced my will within Jeff’s world. Since no fitting role came to mind to take his energy, I decided to become invisible and watch the story unfold. With a practiced control, unrusted by my adventure with Shawn, a theater seat with a drink in the cup holder sprouted into existence behind me. A bowl of popcorn appeared in my hands and reverting to my adult form, I plopped down, sat back, and started enjoying the show.

Terry disappeared and we transitioned to a classroom. The teacher lady was writing something on the board, but it was gibberish that Jeff probably couldn’t remember. He was sitting at a desk biting his nails and staring at nothing. A few of the students didn’t have faces. I guess he didn’t remember them either.

The lights dimmed. Jeff narrated the future and speculated, “Terry made good on his threats. The police questioned us, and she was taken from me. During the trial, she smiled and told me she still loved me. How could I betray her? I should have listened. I should have just killed him. No one would have ever found out and we could have still been together.”

The plot thickened. Jessica was a schemer and wanted Jeff to get his hands dirty to take care of their mutual problem. There was no stopping the theories that were bouncing around in my head. I finally settled on a tragic accident, kind of like that one movie. It took shape in my mind: It was last summer. Jessica and Terry were dating at the time. They were all at a party and had been drinking. Someone decided it would be cool to go to a haunted house in the woods. Jessica was driving. There was a homeless man hitchhiking on the winding road. Terry and Jeff were screwing around, distracting Jessica. A fourth person in the car screamed to watch out, but it was too late. They ran over the man. Freaking out, Jessica drove on ignoring the passenger’s pleas to stop.

Jeff put his face in his hands. The guilt was consuming him, and he sobbed. I felt kind of bad for the kid. It wasn’t even his fault. Jessica had both him and Terry wrapped around her finger. She made them her unwitting accomplices. She deserved getting ratted out by Terry, but Jeff seemed to take it pretty hard.

“At first, she was angry, but everyone gossiped about it. She couldn’t handle the embarrassment to our family. If I had dealt with Terry, my mom wouldn’t have killed herself.” Jeff said between sobs.

So, he must have had some hand in what happened, but then he should have been arrested too. Perhaps they buried the hitchhiker and swore to never speak of it again. He took a plea deal to avoid prison, or it was possible that, kind of like me, he was underaged at the time and didn’t get tried as an adult. The only thing that I wasn’t sure of was whether they killed the fourth person because they threatened to talk that night.

The heartbreak and agony that emanated from Jeff, hit me like a school bus. That was the worst part of these adventures. This guy was reliving the worst part of his life and if I wanted that life juice, most of the time, I had to feel it to.

I could deal with feeling other people’s experiences, but it became more difficult when I could draw parallels with my own past. I had ways of coping or more aptly, avoiding it. This time for instance, the outcome was similar to mine, but rather than empathizing with his plight, I turned it into a game. It was childish and I should have felt ashamed – but I didn’t. So, since my theory was becoming a bit of a stretch, I continued guessing.

They could have had a ritualistic orgy or bullied a kid so hard he committed suicide. His mom was so ashamed, she took her own life. Either one of those were good options. The big reveal had to be coming soon, but not soon enough. Captivated by the drama, my butt slid forward in the seat, excitement barely contained.

The lights brightened and the bell rang, signaling the progression of the play. Students cleared everything from their desks, stuffing their belongings into bookbags. The teacher spoke over the squeaking chairs as the class prepared to file out the door.

“The assignment will be collected on Friday and there will be a quiz on the material.” Groans echoed throughout the room. One emanated from my chest as well. The story was so immersive! It was like reliving my own experience of school. “Jeff, don’t leave, I need to speak to you after class.”

“Oooooo, someone’s in trouble.” A student said. I had to resist the urge to join in the jeering. Then anxiety flooded over me. Jeff approached her desk as the last of the students left the room. She joined him in front of it after closing the door.

Her brown hair was pulled into a tight bun. Thin glasses slid down the bridge of her nose which she promptly pushed back up. She was wearing a long plaid skirt that had too many buttons unfastened below the neck. She pulled him close, but he resisted.

“We have to stop this, Jessica. Terry is getting jealous and intends to do something about it.” Jeff said looking away from her hungry gaze.

“Oh my death!” I exclaimed, jumping up from my seat and throwing my popcorn into the air. “I did not see that coming.” I had to thank Jeff later for entertaining me; it was a good distraction from being half-dead in the real world. Since the secret had finally been revealed, I was hoping an opportunity would arise soon. I could show up as Terry or the police, but I wasn’t sure how that would end up yet.

“Don’t worry about Terry,” she said seductively. “I told you, I’m done with him. I only want you.” She tugged at his belt to draw him close. I supposed, I had to keep watching, but of course, only for the purpose of getting his energy.

“He’s threatening to talk to the police about you.” Jeff said, ruining the moment. Her face darkened. She took a step back and crossed her arms over her stomach. Her eyes shifted up and to the right, trying to conjure an out from her predicament.

Finally, my wrongness streak ended with, as I predicted, Jessica’s manipulation. She opened her stance and touched the side of Jeff’s face. “We have to get rid of him. You have to kill him, that’s the only way we can be together.” She promised. She needed to dispose of Terry, but she wanted someone else to be responsible for the murder. That way she could construct a concrete alibi and when Jeff got arrested, she would lie by telling him that she would wait for him.

“Yes. This time, that’s exactly what I’ll do.” Jeff said. That was where the story strayed from memory lane and onto the fantasy freeway constructed of his deepest desires. Thankfully, Jeff montaged through the passionless planning, the gun acquisition from Jeff’s dad’s closet, and baiting the victim to a private location. We skipped right to the climax.

An inebriated Terry sat next to Jessica holding a glass of wine and laughing. They were on a blanket with a basket of food and a mostly empty bottle of wine. Jessica caressed Terry’s chest and enticingly smiled at him. She pulled a blindfold and a pair of a handcuffs from the basket. Kinky.

Jessica secured both to him and stood up motioning to Jeff and me. We were hiding behind a tree. I decided the theater seating and condiments were no longer necessary. It was better to stay near my subject to take advantage of any chance to make a plausible entrance. Since Jeff hadn’t given me energy of his own volition, I needed his subconscious permission to avoid damaging his soul. That’s why I was looking so hard for a role to fill, but I still hadn’t come up with one.

I was considering three options in Jeff’s fantasy. The first, was to float out of Terry’s corpse, playing the ghost-comes-back-to-haunt-you bit and take advantage of his guilt, but I wasn’t sure how much Jeff would believe that. Another possibility was to show up as another lover to force feelings of jealousy, maybe even anger. The last was to arrive as a boy in blue to arrest Ms. Statutory-Rape. That would most likely invoke despair. I hadn’t quite decided which would be best.

I needed the energy to heal myself but being healthy wouldn’t be sufficient if the police came to detain a crazy guy covered in blood at a fast-food place. I needed power. If I was right about Jeff’s reaction to each role, my magic would be fueled by guilt, jealousy, or despair. I wasn’t sure where to place guilt on the wheel of feelings, but I doubted the ghost route would hold up to scrutiny, so I nixed that. I guessed that jealousy would fall between love and fear, but again, acquiescence would be a challenge; couldn’t imagine Jeff would be willing to bow to his lady’s side piece. Despair was the only emotional placement I was sure of. Also, the police commanded obedience through the law, meaning permission would be easier to obtain.

I stayed in place as Jeff jumped from the trees like a monster at a haunted house. Leaves and twigs crunched underfoot as he stalked toward Terry. He was brandishing a wicked bowie knife, but still sporting the manager garb. The blade’s presence was perplexing because part of the montage included getting his dad’s gun. A fervor seeped out of him like miasma. A longing for vengeance was palpable in the air with a need to feel the light fade from Terry’s eyes as he died.

Jeff pounced on the bound and defenseless man. The knife stabbed into Terry’s chest with a wet squish. Jeff plunged the knife into the body repeatedly. Jessica cackled in the background. The victim squirmed and screamed for far too long and there was way too much blood. It was more like a scene from a movie than one based on reality.

Jeff panted and threw the blade off to the side then looked up. Jessica tore open the front of the blouse she wore, exposing her bra, buttons flying everywhere. “Take me Jeff!” she said ravenously. It was about to get real weird, so I decided that was the moment to step onto the stage.

“Jeff.” I said in my most official voice, bursting from behind the tree curtain. My costume included a blue uniform with a badge in one hand and gun in the other as props.

He jumped up and shielded Jessica with his body. Tucked beneath his shirt, pointed directly at his junk, he unholstered his father’s handgun. It was a terrible place to conceal a firearm. “Don’t come any closer!” he warned.

“Whoa,” I said, raising my hands. “Put the gun away Jeff. I caught you red-handed, there’s no point in resisting.”

“I could shoot you and we could still get away.” He responded, testing the waters.

“There are more police behind me, but I told them I wanted to try talking first. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt, Jeff. I know everything, we can make a deal. If you put the gun down, I can get you both a reduced sentence and when this is all over, you can be together again.” A single drop of sweat fell from his forehead. He was being affected by the stress of walls closing in on him. He hadn’t rejected my ruse, which meant it was working. I had been able to insert myself as an actor and hadn’t met any resistance.

Jessica broke the tension. “Put it down, Jeff. He’s right.” She walked in front of him. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I love you.” She soothed with resigned smile. I held my breath, awaiting his response.

“I love you too, Jessica, but I don’t want us to be separated.”

“You know what they say: distance makes the heart grow fonder.” She assured. ‘Absence’, I thought. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’, but it was Jeff’s head, I wasn’t about to correct him. I exhaled when he sighed, and the gun dropped from his hand into the dried leaves littering the ground. He kissed her passionately, then they parted hesitantly.

As I approached, stowing the badge, my hand grasped handcuffs from my belt. Each footfall hacking away at their final moment together. Stopping behind her, she crossed her wrists for me. While she was being cuffed, Jeff spewed promises, “I’ll call and write you every day. We can see each other again when we get out.”

Jessica acted like I was tearing her from his body on a molecular level. I continued my role, reading her Miranda rights in an official monotone, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you do not have one – umm.” I paused. I couldn’t remember the right phrasing of the end. It had been a long time since Detective Loves-To-Waste-My-Time-For-Petty-Revenge last arrested me; what a cruel mother he had for naming him so.

Jessica squirmed in the handcuffs, which made me tense. Holding tight to her restraints and in an effort to cover my ignorance of police protocol, I turned to Jeff and said, “My partner will be over in a moment to arrest you.” My shoulders relaxed when her squirming stopped.

Escorting her away from Jeff, his longing penetrated my psyche. She looked back and smiled at him, “I love you, Jeff.” She whispered fondly. Once we were far enough away from him, I patted her shoulder and she condensed into a sky-blue ball of light. My hand closed around love, not despair. As my body drifted out of his sight, a ripple in the air marked the edge of his mind and I walked through.