Written By:

Tara B. Ball

(All characters are owned by the author. All rights reserved.)

Spirit Guide

Chapter 16

“Where is it!” he cried as he thrashed through everything that was his in the car. Huffing out of breath, his face red with frustration, he sensed the young woman standing behind him.

Looking at all the clothes strooned all over the inside of the car and some on the desert ground. Shaking her head, she walked away toward the tarp made tent to disassemble it. Forcing herself not to ask, she folded up the sleeping bags and packed away the large blue tarp. After covering the ash filled camp fire, she saw that he had put away all his clothes back into his suit cases. “Okay, what the hell was that all about?” she finally asked, standing next to him at the back side of the car.

“Oh, it's nothing. I was...” he paused realizing he wasn't sure if she should know about his book of shadows or not. “I was looking for something that I thought I had brought along with me,” he chuckled nervously. “I guess I didn't bring it after all,” slipping on a clean long sleeved light blue shirt.

“It'll get hot in the car even with the air conditioner on. Are you sure you want to wear a long sleeved shirt?” he looked at the long sleeves and the rising sun and rolled them up to his elbows. Dusting off her feet before stepping into the car she threw her black leather sandals next to her on the car floor, “Could you make a quick check around the campsite in case we left anything?”

“Looks like we have everything,” he said making a quick scan of the area were they slept. Getting into the car, he saw under his seat three black hard bound books. 'Ah, I found them.' he thought, but just as he thought of picking them out from under his seat, he realized how private and very personal the three books were to him. 'I can't have her read them yet...but that dream. The lavender glow around her finger, it can't be! Could it?' Shaking his thoughts away, he stepped into the car and started it up.

“Is there something on your mind?” she asked trying to sneak a peek at his scars. She knew it to be silly to be so interested in seeing them, but it was true – there was nothing sexier than a man with scars on his body.

“It's nothing. Save for the dream I had last night,” he said as he turned off the dirt road towards the paved two lane road heading towards Flagstaff.

“Really? I'd tell you my dreams, but sadly, I didn't have one last night,” looking over at him, she took some time in the silence to admire his beauty. “*You don't have to tell your dreams to me if you don't want to.*”

Taking a quick glance over, “Well, if you insist.” It only took a few minutes to tell the dream to her as much of the detail as he could. “What's wrong?” he asked seeing her staring at him.

“Now, I've analyzed dreams for myself and my friends, but this one just scares me for some reason,” she played the images of his dream in her mind over and over again trying to understand it. She laid dying in his arms in the dream in ancient Rome.

“If you think this dream is foretelling of your death to come, you're wrong. I've had this dream over and over for years in my sleeping nights. I've tried to analyze it time and time again and found no connection of it to be someone's death.”

“Then what do you think this dream is all about?” she looked at him with stern eyes in hopes for some answer from his lips that she could disprove. Dreams to some are merely 'brain farts' or the minds way of keeping occupied while the body sleeps. More often then not, to a person who pays attention to their dreams, dreams are messages from the past, present or future. The Source of the Universe trying to tell us something of great importance.

Hesitating, he looked to her nervously. “I think it's a past life we had together. Now, don't laugh and please don't accuse me of being crazy. It's just my honest opinion. You yourself have had visions and you pay attention to them. So, why would I not pay attention to a dream such as that?” His voice sounded more and more nervous as he tried to explain himself as plainly as he could. The last time he tried to explain of such mystical things was to his father. The last thing he remembered was waking up in his bedroom with a black eye and bruises all over his back.

She could see the fear in his eyes of how she would react to this, but being who she was of a good hearted woman, she chose her words carefully. “I can hear in your voice you're telling the truth. I've had past life regressions happen to me before, too. If you'd like, I can tell you the story of the one I remember?”

“So, you believe me?” he asked, the fear lifting off his shoulders as she nodded her response. A sigh of relief came after.

“Why were you so afraid that I wouldn't believe you?” she asked, looking behind her seat for the cooler, which luckily had some apples and cheese inside. Grabbing two apples and a peering knife, she cut the fruit in half to share.

With a heavy sigh, he explained himself. “Just before I started my freshman year in high school, I stupidly told my father about a dream I had,” the images of what came next flooded his mind. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow as he continued. “He beat me afterward. My mother wasn't home as she was out with some friends. He kept telling me, 'You're crazy! What did your mother smoke while she was pregnant with you?' I woke up a few hours later with a black eye and bruises on my back from his belt.”

“Okay, hold it!” even though the images were not hers from her memories, it seemed to strike a nerve in her as though she could feel the very same pain as him. “When did your father start the abuse? And I don't want to hear you say, 'it started when we moved into the mansion.' Got it.” She was afraid he would sweet coat the truth. If he did, how else would he be able to heal from such horrible wounds?

At that moment, Ynycornus became quiet. He wanted to answer, but it was difficult to remember so far back in his life. Knowing only that she wanted to help him heal, he racked his mind for anything that gave clues to it all started. There had to be something. Feeling the stress building inside him, he gripped the steering wheel harder, making his knuckles turn white. Images of his father's black leather belt cracking in the air. The screams and arguments he heard late at night between his parents rang in his ears. The feeling of a belt, hand or even a plank of wood hitting his body brought up old past pains to his skin as though they were happening to him all over again.

“I don't remember!” he screamed suddenly shaking Tara to the core. Gasping, she looked to him, seeing his face red as a beet and breathing heavy. His beautiful blue eyes had now turned a scare darker color. “Why don't you tell me about your family instead?” he finally calmed down, the blood from his face rushed back to other parts of his body leaving his face with it's natural skin tone.

“I'm sorry...I...” she stuttered, curling her legs in her seat and looking out the window.

“You're sorry?” he chuckled, taking one of the sliced apple pieces. “I'm the one who should be sorry. I haven't thought about the abuse so deeply before. I didn't realize it would still hurt me that much inside.”

Sensing how uneasy she felt, she shuddered a little as she waited for the negative energy in the car to disappear. “How my mother hurt me was nothing compared to what you went through.”

“Don't ever say that! No matter how small or large the amount of abuse is to a child, it's still abuse,” taking a bite of the apple, he motioned for her to continue.

“Whenever I hear a certain tone in a person's voice may it be groans or screams of pain from a movie or a real life person, it just makes me shut down. I'll just leave the room or I'll curl up in a little ball and shake and rock back and forth. Sometimes, I'll just suddenly remember the worse times she put her hand to me and I'll just get so angry that I want to lash out at the nearest person or object,” a few tears rolled down her cheeks as she continued. “If it wasn't for Dan helping me confront my anger and the abuse that went with it, I would have never been the person I am today.”

“If you don't mind me asking...” she cut him off seconds later.

“The most harsh thing she ever did to me was...” the images of that day swam in her mind as if it had just happened. Like Ynycornus, she too had some underlining issues with past abuse that had to be let go. “I was only putting a plate down into the dish washer when she asked something of me to do next. I said to her in the calmest tone ever, 'Just a minute.' The next thing I know, she slapped be across the face out of no where. My father calmed her down and questioned her later about it. She thought I had a 'tone' in my voice of back talking to her. She doesn't remember that day at all. Years later, I found that that sudden burst of anger was caused by menopausal symptoms that she could have had medication for, but didn't. I'll never forget that as long as I live.” Subconsciously, she rubbed her right cheek.

Looking how sad both of them had suddenly became, he found the perfect thing to say in hopes of cheering her up, “We're just two peas in a pod, uh?” A smile cracked across her face seconds later and then a snorted laugh as she tried to finish her apple. “Well, at least we'll be there for each other more now than we ever have been.”

“Yeah, I think you're right,” she uncurled her legs stretching them out onto the dashboard even though her feet were still a bit dirty. Leaning her seat back, she continued to nibble on her half of the apple.

“Since we both had such horrible pains while growing up, we found Mythia as a sanctuary. Little did we know that either of us was physically real and that we would find each other,” smiling at her, he brushed his right hand across her brow lovingly. Finding that the ice had been broken a lot more now, he felt it more comfortable to talk about Carl to her, but where to begin? “I know this is out of the blue to tell you, but I feel ready to tell you about Carl.”

“Sure, if you feel up to it. I'm ready for another story,” she curled up on her side like a child eagerly awaiting for a bedtime story, even though it was morning. “Start were ever you feel most comfortable.”

“Well, this completely goes out of context of order of my life, but since you seem so eager about my scars on my wrists, I guess I'll have to explain them sooner than later,” he said, fingering his left wrist slowly feeling the slightly rough vertical long indentations down his arm and around his wrist.

“I'm surprised you feel so open about that all of a sudden. I thought I wouldn't hear about this until we got to Boston at least.” he glanced over at her giving the look of, 'do you want me to tell the story or not?' Quickly hushing her mouth she nibbled on another apple.

“This happened in the fall of 1993 during my Junior year in high school. Carl and I had been going out since Sophomore year. My father didn't know about our relationship. Not knowing about this, I haven't the foggiest idea to this day, at least during that time I'm still curious....”

“Eric, we're going to be late for the opera!” Tabatha cried from the living room. She wore her best evening gown – bright blue, slender fitting; spaghetti strapped dress with blue short heal shoes to match. Her long blond hair was loose in a fashionable bun that the maid had helped her with.

Upstairs in David's room, the lights were off and all was not quiet. A strong hand kept a firm grip over his mouth as he lay on his back on the bed. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as his father continued to rape him. Finally getting fed up with it, David bit the man's hand. He let go seconds later giving the young man a chance to scamper away into a corner, his pants down around his ankles.

“Leave me alone!” David cried trying desperately to pull his sweat pants up.

“Eric!” she called out again, this time catching his attention as he straightened himself up to look presentable in a proper dress suit for the evening.

“You're no son of mine!” he cussed, leaving the young man's room stomping as he went and slamming the door after. Just as he walked down the stairs, the front door bell rang. Rushing to answer, there stood a young man with short mousy brown hair and green eyes. “You're a little late,” Eric said, fixing his collar. “David's upstairs.” The tone in his voice, Carl noticed, was dry and emotionless. He knew right then what Eric had done to his best friend.

“Thank you, sir,” turning to go up the furthest stairs that lead to his bedroom, he caught eye of David's mother. “You look stunning, Mrs. Geraci.”

The woman blushed, “You two have a nice time tonight. Don't wait up for us. We may not be coming home until morning.”

Once the lovely couple left the house, Carl rushed upstairs to David's room. There he found the young man shivering in a corner and in tears. “Did that bastard...!” There was nothing else to say. The evidence was all there in front of his eyes. Grabbing a blanket from the bed, he wrapped it around him and David's body to keep warm. The room had no fireplace and in the fall and winter months it would get extremely cold at night. “Why does he do this to you?” he whispered, petting David's now white hair. From all the trauma of abuse David endured, his once golden blond hair he was born with, slowly turned white. Not by poor nutrition, or being born with the change, but by fear and deep depression. Everyone around school called him 'Snow Demon' or 'White Cap'. He hated both names with a passion.

“I'm changing my name, Carl,” his eyes were closed and his head was leaned against the other man's shoulder.

“Why?” Carl asked. “Wait, don't answer that. I wouldn't want to be part of your family like this either if I had the name...” He thought he meant his last name, but wasn't quit sure.

“I don't know when I'll change it or what I'll change it to, but I hate the name David,” shuffling out from under the blanket, he got up slowly, wincing from the pain of his back side. Finishing pulling up his black sweat pants, he turned to Carl, extending his hand to him. Carl took his hand and stood up next to him. “Let's forget about this and watch a movie, okay?” he smiled softly, trying to hide his sadness.

The boys microwaved some popcorn, took out a six pack of root beer from the fridge, and some candy bars that looked to be his mother's secret stash from high up in the furthest corner of the cabinets. The movie the boys agreed on was Dracula, which had recently come onto VHS. The lights were turned off in the living room and all the blinds were closed to give extra effect. Behind them, the fireplace was burning low, but warm. It was windy and cold outside on this October night - the perfect night to watch a scary, but classical story movie with friends.

All the while the two watched the movie, David's mind was drifting away from the drama on screen. His heart was pounding. His mind was racing with images of what happened an hour ago. He couldn't understand why his father hurt him so much. There had to be a reason. The two boys had been going out since 1991 in secret as much as they could away from prying eyes. Most of the school knew, and at times both of them would get beat up by their piers for such a coupling. The more David thought about it, the more he felt ashamed. 'Maybe Dad knows what's going on between us. Maybe that's why he's hurting me so much. No, that can't be it.' Shaking the distracting thoughts away, he looked at Carl from the corner of his eye. Then, out of the blue, the horrible memory of his father's hurtfulness came back to him, but this time the face that would have been his father, transformed into Carl's face. Feeling confused, he turned his attention back to the movie.

Letting go of those horrible few minutes with his father, he looked at Carl with a soft smile. Leaning over to him, he cupped his hand over his cheek and turned his head to meet his gaze. A second later, the two young men went into an embrace of each others lips and arms. Whenever they could, off school grounds or out in the wooded area of David's house property, they would spend innocent, but safe time together. There was talk about AIDS all over the school and country as it was already, so why not play it safe? These two boys were smart in that way, save for most of their generation at their age.

Whispering softly into David's ear, “I know you've been through a lot these few years. You know how much I love you,” kissing him softly on the cheek and stroking David's hair. “If you want,...” he paused, swallowing his fear hard down his throat.

David moved back a little, looking down at the floor, his face slowly turning flush from the thought he had moments earlier. Getting up from the couch, “I'll be right back.” Carl meanwhile kept quiet, his thoughts racing as to what would happen next. The movie played on as though the house was the only one watching for it's own entertainment. A few minutes later, David returned with a small blue plastic square packet in his in hand.

The two laid on the couch in each others arms wrapped in an embrace of love and lust. It was both their first time, even for David it was for this case. The two girls he had dated during Freshman year didn't go to home base as it was the girls who were not ready. So, this made David a virgin in two different ways. In his heart he felt an aching that didn't make sense to him at first. There was something not right about all this, but at that moment it felt right to give his boyfriend some physical love. Even though it was Carl's suggestion, to him David needed more of the release of his frustrations more so. In this relationship, it looked to be very difficult to tell who was giving more than receiving. Since this aspect of the relationship was not very well established, David knew in his heart that this wouldn't last for very long.

As the passion continued, David's mind began to let go. Not letting go of the trauma, but letting go of another sort. The kind of letting go that would cause someone to remember something from years past, even centuries past. This was called past life regression. One would meditate and go into a deep trance to see into the past that the conscious mind could not see. For this case, he was in such high ecstasy that his subconscious was able to communicate with his waking mind. Gasping not from an orgasm, but from what he saw, his full vision of his eyes blacked out and like a movie projector turning on showed what his trance; ecstasy state showed him...

Seeing a market place before him, he felt as though he was looking through his own two eyes. Across the way, a young woman wearing a brown shall over her head and partly covering her face casually walking browsing each booth full of goods. There were plenty of other people shopping too – buying spices, fruits, cloth, and trinkets. The gray cobble stone streets were lined before him under his sandal shoe feet. Looking down, he saw he wore a white toga with gold trim. On his hand a ring with what looked to be an insignia stamped in gold. Looking at the woman again, a few market stands away, he watched her purchase some grains in which she poured into a medium sized light brown reed woven basket.

Seconds later, his regular sight returned to him just for a moment to kiss Carl on the lips and then in a flash the sight returned to him... This time he saw himself married to the woman. He was outside his home near the city talking with someone he felt he knew more recently. The other man was upset and argumentative. The angry man drew his short sword and seconds later, his wife whom he had just recently married, walked in between the two with a very happy smile on her face. He saw her dark brown eyes sparkling and just before he smiled back at her, the life from her eyes left in a flash. He looked over to see the other man withdrawing his short sword out from the woman's back. Blood was covering the blade as she collapsed into her husband's arms.

A second later, David's bodily sight of his blue eyes returned to him. The vision was over. He collapsed on top of Carl breathing heavy and shaking. Carl too was breathing heavy, and seeing how shaken his lover had become, he thought happily that it was caused by their love. What Carl did not know was that David's shaking was not caused by the climax of sex. It was caused by a traumatic realization that what he saw by his foresight was a real and true event that happened to him centuries ago as a middle aged man in his forties.

“David?” Carl whispered, moving his lover's white hair away from his sweaty face. “Are you okay?”

With a groan, David looked at him with weary eyes. “I'm just...” he breathed, trying to calm his body's horrible shaking. “...tired.” Sitting up, he withdrew from his lover and began cleaning himself up with his shirt.

“What's wrong? Is it something I said?” Carl asked, as he pulled up his dark blue boxers.

To his ears, David heard nothing, but he heard every word Carl said even if he didn't want to. “No, it's not you. I'm just tired, is all.” Casually he smiled to him as he stood up slowly. “You can take the guest bedroom tonight.” It was quit common whenever Carl came over for the weekend, that the two boys slept in separate rooms. Even though David loved him as much as he dared, he did not dare want his father to take Carl away from him. It was as though he wanted his father to abuse him just to keep his lover safe from harm. The reality of it was, this was not the case. Eric actually didn't love his son anymore and directed his attention to someone else, but who exactly?

The two young men exchanged a last embrace of affection just before they went to their separate rooms. Carl was all in the thralls of still feeling his love's body on his. The feeling of his kisses on his lips. The feeling of being in love and then...it came to him. 'Maybe one day, I'll take him instead.' Realizing how dark the thought was, he ran into the guest bedroom as though he had to use the bathroom so not to give suspension. Closing the door after and then flopping onto the bed, he screamed into his pillow to release the thought. “How could I ever do that to him after what his father has done? But...” the thought crept into his mind like a wayward goblin stepping into his ear and opening the door to his brain. At that very moment a seed was planted just like clock work. There was something or someone behind the senses pulling the strings and only one person knew who. Carl smiled devilishly to himself, but then shook the thought away again remembering how much he truly loved David. 'I can't do this, no matter what he's offered or told me. I just can't.” Confused with emotions of love and thoughts of darkness, he cried into his pillow. Little did he realize that the tears that fell from his eyes were the very last tears of love for David he would ever shed.

In the room across the way on the other side of the house on the same floor, David pulled off his sweaty T-shirt and black sweat pants, throwing them carelessly to the side. Slowly, sluggishly he walked to the bathroom that was at the furthest end of his bedroom. The bathroom had been put in a few months earlier as there was not one from the original construction plans of the old house. It was nice to have his own place to relax in complete privacy, he thought. As he stepped into the warm shower and sliding the shower door closed, his physical sight left him and his third eye switched on sending him straight to Mythia. He was no longer in his bedroom shower. The sound of a large moon lite waterfall cascaded over his white body. Here, on Mythia, he was a unicorn. A creature of purity and grace. Of strength and beauty. Here, he was allowed to hide, to ignore the horrors of his human life. But as hard as he tried, there was an ever so darkening thought creeping into his worry filled mind. Even though on Mythia he was not alone, to him he felt alone and lost. Tonight, the Mythian home world gave him no comfort. The water fell all around him, draping his long white hair over his face to hide his tears with each water droplet that ran down his face. Snapping back into his human body, he washed his aching body. A few minutes later he stepped out drying off and staring at the foggy reflection of himself in the mirror. 'What's so appealing about me that my father enjoys in ravishing me, but hates me so?' he thought as the tears continued. “Why am I in love with Carl? What does he have to offer me?”

Walking into his bedroom, he turned the bathroom light to dim. The rest of his bedroom was dark, darker than ebony night as it was completely repainted in black from ceiling to floor and all four walls. Even the curtains were black velvet, but the blinds were white. This was only one thing, as long as he could remember, that his father allowed him to do as he liked to his room. His father hated the idea of decorating a room. He believed once you move into a new place, you don't change anything to make you feel at home. But since this was David's room, he allowed it only this once. Little did David realize about the dark walls, was it was that much easier for his father to hide between the shadows to sneak up on his son in the night. With that white hair he adorned on his crown now, Eric was able to find the boy even by a moonless night.

As he crawled into bed, his black and white dog tooth pattern bedding gave a false sense of camouflage against his white hair. Under the covers though, he was able to hide the best he could, but even with his father out of the house for the weekend, he could not sleep. As he tried to sleep, all he could think of was his mother singing to him as she did when he was little, but for some sad reason that didn't even work. For some reason though, there was this inner feeling he did not recognize. Trusting on his training his mother gave him, he concentrated on the feeling around him. It was then he realized the energy that surrounded him came from a female, a young girl. He wasn't quit sure who she was, but it didn't matter if she was a ghost or if it were his imagination. He continued to concentrate on the female energy as it slowly helped him drift off to sleep.

The next morning, David awoke to a loud scream coming from downstairs. Throwing on some clean pair of black jeans and a red long sleeved shirt and a pair of white socks, he rushed downstairs to see Carl on the floor in the living room holding his left jaw. Eric was hovering over the boy yelling at him.

“I know what you two did last night!” Eric yelled, his voice booming throughout the house. All the while his mother was trembling on the floor near Carl trying to help him. “I saw it on the video!” During that summer, while David was with his grandparents the whole time, his father equipped the house with video surveillance. The reason, he became paranoid that the servants were stealing.

Horrified, he finally remembered about the video cameras, but it was too late. “Dad! What the hell are you doing!” David screamed as he ran down the stairs. Within a flash, Eric ran towards his son, knocking him to the ground. Screaming, and crying, Carl ran out of the house and did not turn back. “Carl!” he cried, watching in horror his lover turning chicken.

“I never raised you to be such a flake!” his father screamed as he moved closer to the boy. David began to shake in fear, crawling backwards up the stairs. “Tabitha! Go to your room! I need to talk to the boy alone,” the look in Eric's eyes was pure darkness. David looked to his mother, seeing she obeyed exactly and walked to the upstairs master bedroom that was across the other side of the house. He watched in horror as his mother turned the corner. Within seconds she was no longer in his sight. A sudden smack hit across David's face. The hot, slowly forming welt on his cheek, he could feel forming. “I do this to you, because this is the only way you'll learn!” he said, as his belt came off his pants and doubling the black leather belt in two, snapping it joyously in his hands. David trembled before the sight of his father, but before he felt the full effects of freezing up, he blanked out all that was around him and in that second, in that realization, he kicked his father in the balls. The man doubled over groaning in pain and holding his privates, dropping the belt after.

Finding his opening, David ran to the living room half bath across from him towards the left. Slamming the bathroom door shut and locking it after, he stood before the sink trembling. Feeling sick to his stomach, he vomited a second later into the sink. Still shaking, and still feeling the blankness of his mind, he looked down to see a shaving razor near the sink faucet handles. With shaky hands, he somehow tore it apart without cutting his finger tips. Holding the naked razor in his right hand, his mind suddenly flooded with memories of the abuse. In the background he saw Carl grinning at him with a dark look in his green eyes. Feeling confused and lost that very second, he cut across his left wrist and not stopping, he cut the other in the same fashion, but not as accurately and smoothly as his fingers of his left hand had begun to loose feeling and tension. Dropping the bloody razor into the sink, he stood there watching the blood from his wrists flow.

A moment later, feeling ill to his whole body the dizziness over took him and he fell to the wide black and white checkered floor. Rolling over on his back, he stared at the white ceiling. The dizziness did not stop. He breathed heavy at first, but slowly it became more shallow and slower. Looking to the sink, he saw a bright lavender light forming in front of it. He smiled at the light, thinking it was 'the lighted tunnel' he had hoped for, but quickly he realized it was not the tunnel. The light grew brighter to his sight as he lay there on the cold floor. Soon a female figure appeared – a young girl about in her early teens. She watched the young man reach up for her, the blood flowing slowly down his right arm onto the checkered floor. Just as she reached out for him though, the bathroom door burst open. His father scooped up his son into his arms as his wife called 911. What sight he had left before passing out, he saw tears of sadness fill his father's eyes and faintly hearing, “I'm sorry, son.”