"I don't understand what you want...please, just let me go..."

"I know that you're not fully human.  You can see them.  The dark spirits.  I can see them too."

Lucy woke with a start.  Paul was still asleep next to her.  He had his arm beneath her pillow, and his other arm, originally around her stomach, was lying in her lap.  

She hadn't gotten use to the new house.  Paul had fulfilled his promise.  They lived further away from the city, but not too far.  It was also quite a bit bigger than the apartment, so they could have friends stay over.  George and Layla stayed with them two nights after they moved in.  

Paul's hand found hers in the darkness.  "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

"Fine.  I just had a nightmare, that's all."  She looked into the dark.  She couldn't see anything.  She stared it down.  Not here.  We're suppose to be safe here.  

"Do you want me to stay up with you?"

"No, that's alright."  I lay back down, leaning my head on his forearm.  I kissed the bridge of his nose and ran my hand through his soft hair.  My thumb slipped down to his cheek.  "You need to shave."

By the way his lips curved, I could tell he was smiling.  "I'll have to tomorrow."  My hand ran down his arm.  He always seemed a bit self-conscious about the dark hair on his arms, but it never bothered me.  After all, I had hair on my arms too.  Paul's hands wandered down my arms.  I was wearing a long sleep shirt from the place we always bought incense.  It was a light orange with pale cream flowers on the sleeves.  Paul loved it.  His thumbs traced down my wrists, right along the veins.  There were scars on her arms from the time she had been possessed.  They had healed, but Lucy felt pain whenever she looked at them.  

Paul came home one night and injected some new drug into his arm.  He didn't tell me what it was.  He said he saw things.  But my arms felt weak when I saw the needle sink into his tender skin.  I didn't know why he would intentionally put metal inside himself.  He remembered my reaction to this and apologized for doing it later.  I pleaded with him once more not to do any more drugs.  I knew he would never listen to me.

He smelled like the incense that burned throughout the house.  I knew he was asleep when his soft snores filled my ears.  I stroked his hair and felt the familiar pressure of his arms around my chest.  "I love you, Paul.  You're so strange and beautiful...and I don't want you hurt, so I'm going to keep nagging you about your drugs as long as you keep using them.  You're going to do such great things; you already have.  Even when you think you weren't."  I pressed my lips to his cheek and held them there for several seconds.  I nestled into my place in between his neck and shoulder.

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Lucy woke to the scent of marijuana.  She felt choked by it as she stumbled to the bathroom, where Paul had finished a joint just as he was about to shave.  "Sorry for the smell, Lucy..."

But she felt like she couldn't hear.  

You can see them.

The dark spirits.

I can see them too.

You and I have more in common than that fool you're with.

I know your fears, Lucy.

And you're scared of that fool, aren't you?

"Lucy?"

She was back in that dark, smoky car.  The stench was overwhelming.  She was choking.  "What do you want?"

"Lucy, what's wrong?"

She pushed her hands out.  "Stay away from me," her eyes were wild like a cornered animal.  When Paul tried to take her hands, she shrieked in fright.  "Don't do this!"

He knelt down on the floor so he was level with her.  "Lucy, what did he do to you?"

She hid her face, trembling and shaking her head.  Paul wanted to hug her, but she was someplace else right now.  She wasn't with him.  "Please don't hurt me...I won't tell anyone..."

"Lucy, please, tell me what he did."

I know you, Lucy.

I can free you from this.

You have time to consider this, my dear.

"No!  No!  Please, no!"

"Lucy, it's not real.  This is all in your head.  It's just a memory; please, tell me what you see!"

She looked up at him.  Her eyes were normal again.  "What happened?  Did...did I hurt you again?"

"No, I'm fine.  Are you alright though?"  He helped her up.  She was still shaking.  He carefully embraced her and felt nervous when she didn't immediately reciprocate.  A few moments later, however, she buried her face in his bare shoulder.  "I think...I need to leave the house for a little while.  Perhaps I'm just not use to being here yet.  Can I take the car to visit Layla?"

"How about I go with you?"

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George smiled when his friend arrived at the door.  "Hello," Lucy said cheerfully.  "I'm sorry I didn't call first.  Layla called me yesterday and mentioned that she was feeling a bit under the weather, so I wanted to come by and see if she was doing any better."

"Actually, she's asleep.  But you can stay if you'd like."

"Paul dropped me off, but he said he would be back.  I think he's running an errand."

She ended up helping George cut up vegetables to put in the soup he was making for lunch.  He remarked that he felt guilty having a guest help him, but Lucy insisted.  However, when he asked her to pass the salt, he noticed that she had rolled up her sleeves.  "Lucy, your arms..."

She looked down at the ground and immediately rolled the fabric back down.  "I-I'm sorry...it really was an accident.  Something came over me, and I scratched open my arms.  I have to hide them now.  I went to a job interview and was turned away because the employer saw them."  Her eyes wandered to the knife she had just been using.  "Now sharp things make me nervous."  Lucy rubbed her arms fearfully and blinked back tears in her eyes.  

"Hey, I've got some too, see?"  He rolled up his sleeves.  They were fainter than hers but still visible.  "You didn't even know you were doing that to yourself.  I did."  

Lucy touched his arm.  "You're alright now though, aren't you, George?"

He gave her a small nod, but that wasn't incredibly convincing.  She wanted to say more, but a voice boomed, "Get your hands of my Lucy!"

Lucy jumped back, startled.  George rolled up his sleeves.  "Paul-"

"I'm joking, mate."  He kissed Lucy's forehead.  "Where's Layla?"

"Awake now," she called from the bedroom.  

Paul felt sheepish.  "Sorry, love.  Didn't know you were sleeping."

Layla emerged from the hall.  She had tried to fix her hair before presenting herself.  "Are you feeling any better?"  She shrugged.

"We're working on lunch.  Perhaps eating something will help," George suggested.  Lucy picked up the knife and continued to cut.  Paul and George chatted in the kitchen for a few seconds as Layla settled down on the couch to watch television.  She called for George as an interesting news story was playing, and Paul wrapped his hands around Lucy's as she handled the knife.  "Are you alright?  You're shaking again."

"Sharp objects make me a little nervous now.  You know, because of the-"

"Do you want me to take over?"

"No, it's fine.  I'm almost finished."

But he took the knife from her carefully.  "Go join Layla.  I can handle this."

The story on the news was of a riot.  It made all of them upset.  "There are riots everywhere now, especially in America.  They're protesting the war in Vietnam.  Senseless it is, this war," George muttered.  

They eventually moved on to a happier subject, however Lucy felt pain in her arms unlike any other.  It was like her wounds were reopening, but nothing was bleeding through.

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It was late at night, and Cynthia and Julian were going to stay with a few friends of hers in London.  To Julian, this was a fun adventure, but to Cynthia, it was a sorely needed break, which broke her heart.  

There was a knock on his door.  John answered, blowing smoke out into the hall.  "Yes?"

"Hello, John.  I'm-"

"I know who you are.  Why are you here?"

"I was worried for you.  You always look so distressed, Mr. Lennon.  I heard your wife was away; I thought you could use some company," Catherine offered her most deceptive smile.