The Enemy Within

    I was a coward. Never in my life had I ever stood up to anyone. I was the epitome of a doormat and most people knew it. Luckily, I lived in a small community where no one would take advantage of the town's sweetheart.      My dad was the mayor and would face any challenge head on. He was afraid of nothing. He knew that his people adored him and they knew he would walk through hell's gates for them. He was an incredible man and I felt so blessed to be his daughter.      "Good morning Sunshine. How are you?" I tilted my head back for my good morning kiss on the forehead.  "Good morning dad. I'm the same as always" I smiled at him. "Anymore headaches?" He sat across from me and began pouring himself a bowl of cereal, trying to hide the worry that was plainly written across his face. "Not so bad no, just a dull ache." I regretted telling him about the blinding migraines I've been having. Ever since, he's been worrying about me and hovering more than usual. "That's good. I hate seeing my baby in pain."  "I'm fine dad, no voices yet."    The spoonful of cornflakes on route to his mouth came to an abrupt halt, losing most of it passengers along the way. "That's not funny Bryna." "I wasn't joking dad. I'm not mom." My words hurt him. He adored my mother. She was the love of his life and even though it had been ten years, he still refused to move on.  "Your mother was very sick. She needed help and didn't know how to ask."  "I just don't want you worrying about me all the time. I get headaches. It's perfectly normal. Maybe I need glasses."  He put his spoon down and pushed his bowl away, still avoiding eye contact. I waited. There was something coming and I had to give him time to find the right words.  "Your mother did not hear voices Bryna. There was only ever one.  She said its name was Azax." He laced his fingers in front of him on the table and looked me in the eye. Waiting for me to register what he was saying.  I was lost. How was hearing one voice any different than hearing multiple voices? Either way, she was nuts.  "That doesn't make a difference Dad. She was crazy and instead of committing herself, she took a swan dive off of the Jericho bridge." He shook his head and left the kitchen. I thought he was done with our conversation, not wanting to hear the truth. Instead, he came back holding a manila folder with an official looking stamp on the back. He tossed the folder in front of me before sitting back down at the table.  "Your mother did take a swan dive as you so kindly put it." He was angry. I had opened a wound that he had been nursing for years. I looked at the folder in front of me. "Dr. Christopher Njango. Head psychiatrist, Jericho Mental Institute." was printed on the back.  "That's the report I was given the day your mother was released after a three month stay at Jericho asylum."  I pulled out the papers inside and scanned the pages. Not of the words stuck. I couldn't make sense out of the report in front of me other than inconclusive. Signs of schizoid personality disorder, periodic psychosis, catatonic tendencies, appears to enjoy self harm. Everything I saw, said that she was nuts. Why would he show me this? It just solidified my argument. "Exactly what I was saying dad, she was crazy." I passed him back the folder. He let out a frustrated sigh, shuffling through the pages in search of something in particular. When he found it, he carried it over to me and pointed out a paragraph that was hand written rather than printed. "Grant, setting aside my professional insight, I personally think that you should take Jennifer to a priest. Sometimes a patient's beliefs are so strong that they can have a mental break. I strongly believe that what is going on here is not something that can be cured in a hospital. Jenn thinks that her body is being controlled by a demon. She absolutely needs help, from a church. I'm so sorry you have to go through something like this especially with a 10 year old to take care of at the same time, my heart goes out to you and your family. Best of luck, Chris" My heart sunk. My mom was drowning and no one knew how to save.  "This all started with the occasional migraine, peanut" Dad leaned down and kissed my forehead again. He returned to his seat and met my eyes again. "She would leave events early because her head hurt. Then they got so bad that she wouldn't leave the room in the morning and when I came back from the office, she was still curled up in bed, puffy-eyed from spending the day crying in pain. Eventually the migraines went away and I was so unbelievably relieved. Then I started noticing little things. She would stare off into space and it was impossible to get her to snap out of it. A minute or two would pass and she would act like it was nothing. Then she started using profanity, it even made ME uncomfortable. There were times where I would look at her and though some of her features were still there, she looked like a completely different person. Her eye color would change from blue to almost black, her usually full lips were thin and would stretch into an unnatural grin, it almost looked like she didn't have cheeks, just a wide evil smirk. She scared me peanut. I was terrified of my own wife. More than once I woke up with her on all fours on top of me, staring into my face, almost daring me to make a move. Those were the longest nights of my life. She would roll off of me and go back to sleep. I would get up, go to your room and sit in a chair in front of your door so she couldn't get in. I met Azax a handful of times. Her 'visits' were brief, maybe a day or two. Then it was like your mom figured out certain signs that told her she was coming. She would pack a bag while we were sleeping and leave for a week or two while Azax had control. She would come back beaten and looking like s**t but she always came back. I finally gave up and brought her to Jericho Institute. She spent some time there and when I picked her up the doctor handed me the envelope and sent us on our way, scared and lost. The next time Azax came, she beat you so bad you ended up with two cracked ribs, a sprained ankle and a dislocated shoulder. When your mom saw what she had done, she was devastated. That night, she went for the 'swan dive' as you put it." Information overload. I had no idea. I never remembered being attacked by my mother. I didn't recall any of this. I picked up bits and pieces from gossip around town but my dad always brushed it off when I asked him about it. "Why are you telling me this now? I've asked over and over about mom and you always told me she was sick or really sad. I don't even remember being beaten up by mom." "I asked the doctor about that, he said your brain probably blocked out the memory because it was too traumatic for you to handle. As far as the rest, I couldn't bring myself to tell you. I wanted you to remember the best parts of your mom, not the worst."  "And now you think the same thing is happening to me?" There was a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I already knew the answer. I was headed down the same path as my mom. "I don't know peanut. I certainly hope not. I don't think I could survive losing you." Moisture filled his eyes before his pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He stood and put his full bowl in the sink before grabbing his suitcase and jacket. "I gotta go. I'll see you after work." Quick peck on top of my head as he passed me to head to the front door. "Love you." He called before shutting the door.  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and the familiar ache was building behind my eyeballs.  I am so f****d.