Sympathy
for a Devil
He was an
empath with the ability to mesh his mind with anyone else’s. Adrian could sense
others’ thoughts and emotions. Sometimes he became them. Adrian’s mind blindly reached
out. His uncontrolled empathic ability found a woman as she stood in the den of
her house. Her husband was beating her. Dark hair curtained the newly reddened
mark of a slap on her pale cheek. The bodice of her small sundress shook as she
began to cry. Adrian’s breath caught in a ragged rasp as a fist met the woman’s
stomach full force. He felt her double over. His stomach burned with the blow.
Another fist met her face. It shocked Adrian, making him blink. The woman
screamed as her husband punched her again. Adrian fought the urge to scream
with her. He had gained that much control since acquiring this empathic
ability. The woman ran but was tripped by her husband. A sharp pain radiated up
Adrian’s right leg. The woman’s leg was broken. She scrambled on the floor
trying to get away. Pain mixed with panic, and she began to sob. Adrian
muttered what she was thinking. “Oh God, please don’t let him kill me!” Then the
hands went around her neck. The grip was unyielding as it closed her trachea. Her
lungs burned desperately for air. Adrian gasped as he choked. His mind fell
away from the woman as she collapsed, unconscious.
When his mind finally broke away, he picked up
a bottle of Thorazine and a bottle of vodka. The doctors had diagnosed him as
having schizophrenic episodes. The drugs were supposed to control them. They
allowed him to function and he’d actually found a job as a security guard at an
auto salvage yard. He worked night shifts, which kept him out of the range of
the active public. His only companions were the Dobermans and Rottweilers that
lived in the yard, and nothing occupied their minds.
In high
school, he’d acquired a reputation of being a pleasure giver. The girls who had
been with him would swear that he always knew how to please them. If a girl
liked it rough, he knew exactly how rough she wanted it. He could somehow read
her thoughts. He was a mental pickpocket. Adrian found the full extent of his
ability the night of his senior prom. He had easily gotten a date since the
female population of his high school had either tried him or was dying to. This
night it was Gena, the smartest, classiest girl at school.
They left the prom early because he’d
picked up the thought that she wanted to leave. He drove her to the park near the lake. The bright moon and the
shimmering lake were the perfect scene for lovemaking and she wanted him and he
knew it. Gena wanted him gentle and
sweet. When he hiked up her dress hem to find her panties, his mind reached into hers, making notes of what she wanted. Then it reached farther and found another mind. It was a man. The man was raping a woman in the woods nearby. Adrian lost himself in a trip of power and his touch became as rough as the rapist’s. Gena started to struggle and protest, but he didn’t hear her. His movements were a reflection of the rapist’s.
He pinned her to the seat of the car
and she screamed. The struggle made him hard. He was ready to rape Gena like
the rapist was raping his victim in the woods until she kneed Adrian in the
crotch. The pain between his legs peeled his mind away from the rapist, and it
fell into the mind of the victim. He found himself sobbing uncontrollably and
whimpering for help. Adrian had taken in too much. Not only was he witness to
another’s mind and actions, he was that other person. That was the first of his
“episodes”, and that was seven years and many doctors ago.
Adrian
laughed to himself as he emptied the open bottle into his mouth. Stray pills
fell to the floor bouncing hard like loose candy. He took a big swig of vodka
to wash the payload down before his mind locked onto something as strong as or
stronger than the beating.
He sat back in his chair waiting for
the drugs and alcohol to kick in. His mind reached beyond the boundaries of his
physical location. On some nights, people didn’t need to be close for his mind
to find them. A crazy rapture filled him and he hardened to the touch of
invisible thighs. Some girl was fucking her man, and Adrian entered his mind. He
thought he would burst as she eased her warm, tight sex around her lover. Her
rhythm undulated and the guy moaned with pleasure. Adrian’s eyes rolled back in
his head. The girl’s lover stared at the open sky, stars, and the buildings as
pleasure filled him. Adrian saw everything.
They were across town on Appalachia
Street across from the First National Bank of Swindell. The girl’s lover had
his hands on her breasts now. Adrian’s fingertips warmed with the sensation. He
and the young man were enjoying the moment until it was interrupted by a surge
of panic. Through the guy’s eyes, Adrian saw a girl standing on a building’s
ledge. Adrian came out of his stupor with a curse. “Oh shit!” His mind
instantly jumped into the girl’s.
She had been
watching the two lovers and now despaired over her own lost love. Adrian felt
tears spring into his eyes. They were
the girl’s tears. A chill went through the girl and she laughed. The stars were
beautiful. Then Adrian felt her jump. His mind was caught between the horror of
being with the girl and witnessing her die. Her body went into a graceful
plummet as it hit the ground. There was a searing pain of organs imploding on
impact as she met the pavement, then a joy as she drew her last breath. Adrian’s
mind jerked away with the girl’s need to die. He picked up the phone.
“911. What’s
the manner of your emergency?”
Adrian
breathed heavily into the phone as he drank. “Can you save me?”
The voice on
the other line sounded confused. “Excuse me?”
Adrian
laughed. “There’s this girl that just jumped off a building across from
Appalachia Street. You couldn’t save her, but can you save me?”
He picked up
the revolver. The room started to spin as he leaned the chair on its back legs
and felt panic rise in the operator. “Sir, what’s your address?”
“I’m in the
house on the corner of Oak and Carver Lane. Can you find me in time?” He cocked
the gun and now he was with the operator. Her ears strained to decipher the
click of a rolling chamber.
“Sir, was
that a gun?”
“Yes it was.”
“We have someone
coming out to help you.”
“I’m so
tired of being someone else! But it’s done now.” The overdose of Thorazine made
his thigh muscle twitch. “It’s already working.”
“Sir?”
“Call me
Adrian. I already know you Claire. How afraid you are that I may kill myself
before the end of your shift. You only have ten minutes left. Well, I hate to
disappoint.”
Adrian could
feel her panic rise and her struggle to not let it sound in her voice. “Adrian,
before you do anything, let’s talk about this and how you’re feeling right now.”
He wasn’t
listening. A spasm snaked up to his hand, and he dropped the phone. The room
began to spin faster as another spasm went through his hand holding the gun. The
chair fell back. The gun went off. He could hear the operator, Claire, as she
lost her cool, and he closed his eyes. “Adrian?
Oh my God!”
© 2013 Stella Moreaux
