Wicked - 8. Jake 4

Once again I stalled my ritual to paralyze Kyle. Everything was okay now, things had gone back to the way they had before he betrayed me. I was sitting by my altar in the corner of my bedroom on Sunday afternoon, trying to meditate. Trying was the key word, I couldn't do it.

Although I often suffered from both racing thoughts and emotions, I was able to put all of my attention on one thing if I wanted to. That was how I was able to direct my emotions for the use of magic; channeling my spite into ritual items and intentions. It was also probably why I could be unwaveringly fixed on certain things for hours at a time – even longer when you considered my fixation on Kyle. However, what I seemingly couldn't do was make my mind go entirely empty.

That was the most common form of meditation. Instead of being all-over-the-place, instead of fixing onto one idea, you simply quietened your mind entirely. Sat in stillness. Being peacefully empty and coming to see things clearly and understanding the truths of a situation. On the occult forum I'd come across a quote by Nikola Tesla: Today people think deeply instead of clearly. One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane.

I don't think that at any point in my life I have ever felt peaceful or empty.

Before me smoke was wafting upward from burning incense, Dragon's Blood which had been reported by those who go into gnosis to be Lucifer's favorite. Gnosis being the state of mind you drift into where these beings can then communicate with you. Propped up by a white candle was his hand-drawn sigil on a slip of paper, an old smear of blood through it from an offering I gave a while ago. Lucifer is the enlightener, the emperor of hell, one of the nine demonic gatekeepers. I was meditating on him and could feel his presence within me as a flickering warmth. I kept trying to empty my mind without success, restlessly I bounced around inside myself, distracted by my whirling mind and prevalent non-physical pain.

I thought about Kyle with warmth and smug satisfaction. The reason why my emotions bounced so drastically between love and hate was because in my mind there were two Kyles. Schrodinger's Kyle. Both versions of him existed up until the moment one would be proven as true. For the longest time I'd known that Kyle was deeply and irrevocably in love with me. I was always on his mind and he wanted me like he'd never wanted anything else. Meeting me had changed his life. I'd known my power over him was absolute and that he'd never get over me, I was aware I had a hold on him. Of course Kyle didn't actively pursue me, and I knew it was because he was terrified of his own feelings. He loved me so much, I made him so weak, that he was scared of our connection. I pondered him every now and again with smugness, imagining how vulnerable I made him. How hopelessly in love with me he was, how he couldn't stop thinking of me. It stroked my ego massively I must admit.

And so perhaps that's what I loved about him. I was convinced I was the centre of his universe.

But then I started exchanging psychic readings with chat-buddies from the occult forum. Lazily asked a question about Kyle and got an answer that was a slap to the face.

I'm noτ picking up on αnyτhing. This Kylε Thorburn doεsn'τ likε you. LuciferChild33 had been the one to send me that one fateful afternoon.

Of course I'd told him he was wrong, snapped at him even. He later forgave me for my outpouring of furious words. After him nobody I asked confirmed my beliefs, and I asked a lot of people. One member was a fellow teenager, a girl living in England, and though she said she picked up nervousness from him there was none of the gut-wrenching obsession I'd been convinced of. I wasn't on his mind all the time, but once or twice a day at best.

How dare he. I felt like I'd sunk through the floor, my insides contracting and rolling over. I am amazing, how could he not see that? How could he? How? How? Over and over my mind rolled. How had I been convinced for so long only to discover there was nothing there? He'd lied to me, that's what he'd done. He'd manipulated me, he'd played me. I felt the most torrential hate rip through me, a deep injury in the core of my being. A twisted injury, and then suddenly it was me who was obsessed. But along with the hate what I couldn't stop thinking about, what kept haunting me for long hours into the night. How could he possibly not love me? I kept going back to that, finding it couldn't compute. How? How?

But I'd been right all along. Kyle did love me, and I sighed in relief. My feelings for him even faded at knowing he loved me, making me more secure. Everything set right again. Despite the fact so many psychics had told me otherwise, I was confident in my knowledge of the truth. Kyle was wrong to be confused in the beginning, but I was willing to forgive him. He may have been able to stay troubled before, but after kissing me last night on the rocks he couldn't not be in love with me.

It was hot in my apartment, multiple fans were buzzing and blasting air in each room. When I still couldn't quiet my mind I started chanting Lucifer's enn.

"Renich Tasa Uberaca Biasa Icar Lucifer my God."

My head burned and I watched his sigil come alive, no longer two-dimensional on the slip of bloodied paper.

Weakness is a choice, my own thoughts said to me. Observe your reactions and investigate them to understand why you feel the way you do. You can't build strength without resistance. Being powerful means being in control of yourself. Triumph over your own weakness, face yourself. Your mind can be unstuck with discipline and focus. You are the king of your realm. And then louder: We do not seek to destroy anyone. We seek to destroy that which binds humanity. I want my children to wake up...

My eyes tore away from the sigil, head dropped. My body was heaving as raw power flowed through me. I sat cross-legged for a while until deciding to go, dismissing Lucifer and moving away from the three-legged bedside table I'd picked up from the side of the road one drunken night and decided to use as an altar. It sounded like Lucifer was trying to give me important advice about my situation, but I wouldn't be able to do any of that stuff without the self-control to be still for a fucking minute and meditate. I was antsy, trying to not move and not think was outright painful for whatever reason.

The orange-robed and bald Buddhist monks from the Yang Tien temple out of town were always meditating. They did it every day. After so much of the occult forum's magic had talked about working with the chakras I'd decided to learn about the invisible things that were supposed to be a representation of our personal qualities. Chakras were a Buddhist idea, but I couldn't even read through a long-winded post I found. I'd been to the temple once or twice before. It was too stuffy staying up here in the apartment, so I decided I'd take a bus route down. If I couldn't relax here maybe I'd have better luck on the temple grounds. I am a powerful man, I must attain greater power.

On the way through town I sat on one of the worn leather seats, a few elderly and overweight passengers coughed and sniffled around me. As the bus shuddered along I popped in my earphones to listen to music. Halfway there I started getting calls from Kevin and Joshua. I didn't want to talk to them, I hung up and when they kept calling I tried switching my phone off. When it didn't work first try and another call came through I felt a snap of fury, barely restraining myself from hurling the phone or smashing it repeatedly against something while people could see me. I thought about cursing Kevin and making him bed-ridden for annoying me. My thumb was white on the power button, once the screen blackened I smashed it against the railing once before slipping it into my pocket.

Twenty minutes later I got off the bus with an Asian woman in a pink shirt. Most of the visitors and all the monks were Asian. We crossed the parking lot and I saw the first grand statue of a gold-robed Buddha, over twenty feet tall. Long-eared and brightly painted. The woman stopped before it to pay her respects, putting her hands in prayer position and bowing, looking up at the figure lovingly. I was sweating through my shirt, it felt like summer already. The arched gate entry was orange and red tiles, the same colour theme of the whole temple. Lion statues stood on each side, at the top were Chinese characters I couldn't read. I followed the path into the grounds. Rolling upward hills of grass, I could see a collection of human-sized stone statues in meditative positions. The ninety-nine incarnations of Buddha scattered throughout the property.

From the outskirts, up a crisscrossing staircase along the valley someone started ringing a ceremonial bell. One of those giant bells that get banged by logs tied up with rope, the repetitive gonging reverberated across the grounds. Probably time for the monks' evening meditations or dinner, they grew their own vegetables and obviously didn't eat meat. When the buildings were in view I couldn't deny how beautiful they were. Eastern-themed towers and square buildings around a courtyard for early morning tai chi. Bald men and women in orange robes and sashes walked the pathways together, ignoring tourists who drifted around snapping photos. Once up the top I could look down to the river, tall reeds and bamboo. Lotus flowers and lilies, carp fish weaving under the surface. By a pond sat a lone monk meditating. That was what I needed to do; reaching up I wiped sweat from my brow before continuing on.

The pavement blared under the sun, I crossed the courtyard and took the stairs to the main prayer room. The huge double-doors were open, leading into a high-ceilinged space where five standing Buddhas stood with their palms and fingers gesturing, in robes of pink, green, blue, white and gold. They had swastikas on them, some symbol of their religion before the Nazis used it for their movement and started killing enormous masses of people in murder camps. Below the twenty-foot tall statues were rows upon rows of what must have been a thousand tea-light candles. Before the pews a hundred incense sticks wafted their fragrance throughout the room. Maybe a dozen tourists were in here, praying or looking around.

The whole point of coming here was to practice meditating, but peace felt just as out of grasp as always. Instead I wandered the grounds, looking at everything. My original plans forgotten. There were plenty of different spots, the Yang Tien temple was huge but I got bored in under an hour. Stopping by the canteen which sold home-grown vegan meals for the tourists and had menus with over twenty variations of tea. Through the glass-front I could see customers at the round tables, pouring from clay kettles into authentic little cups. Dried flower petals in the little strainers. Beside me was a bench staring out at a Zen garden, white pebbles raked into lines around well-tended shrubs, patterned to look like the yin-yang symbol.

I started walking back to the exit, switched on my phone and read the texts I'd been sent. Laurene wanted a band meeting at her place. It rivalled that popular blonde Cassie's house in size, I'd been twice before. They'd been calling me because they knew I didn't drive, asking if I'd want a lift. I texted back saying I'd be there in one hour.

On the way back I thought about my dead Mum. Had she ever made honey jars as opposed to my vinegar ones? Jars that were supposed to sweeten the disposition of others toward you. Love jars, or perhaps spells to make her old partners feel guilt over what happened after it ended. If she'd only learnt to use magic for manipulation we wouldn't have had to move house so much. I stared out the grimy window thoughtfully.

When back in Brine I walked from the stop to Laurene's house. Pressed the button at her gate and waited for it to buzz and open. A wide gravel path that led up to her square-cut porch. The home was modern architecture, everything smooth and sleek. Angular, like an artist's interpretation of a home. Everything was in shades of dark grey, even the smooth tiles inside. I walked up and eyed the long windows, the almost square-shaped door opened and Laurene stepped out from behind it and waved me inside. Cool air rolled out, I followed her in and shut the door behind me. The temperature was drastically different in here, the sweat-stains under my arms going cold against my skin.

She strolled off and led me away as carelessly as usual. Her two yappy terrier dogs raced over, sniffing and barking at my feet as I followed. I fought the temptation to give one a good kick, send it flying over the indoor plants and into the kitchen. The stairs were slats sticking out from the wall and curving up to the second level.

"Down boys," Laurene called half-heartedly. The dogs didn't stop but they didn't follow us up; stumpy legs.

Down a tiled corridor and into Laurene's bedroom. There wasn't any carpet in this place, only tiles, stone and lacquered wood. She had expensive clothes strewn all over the floor, she wasn't the least bit tidy. Kevin and Joshua were each sitting on a corner of the bed, empty glasses of some drink beside them while they played on their phones. Carter was sitting on Laurene's comfortable leather desk-chair, wheeling around when we entered the room.

"Your Dad isn't home?" I asked her.

"Nope. Thank God." She sighed in exasperation, always exasperated by something.

The boys greeted me and I nodded back. Took a seat on a little cabinet, Laurene jumped atop her wide bed, bouncing the two boys on her soft purple bedding.

"So how are we feeling about our first official performance as Occupational Hazard yesterday?" Kevin clapped his hands together and asked us all.

Joshua smoothed his long fringe back. Carter wheeled around to face away. Laurene reached under her pillow and pulled out a joint, lighting the end and taking a puff.

"Good." She toked, exhaling smoke and then passing it.

"How does your Dad never smell Mary Jane in your room?" I asked "I thought parents were supposed to freak out about stuff like that."

"It's a fucking plant. It's not like I keep anything else in here, I'm not retarded. Besides, it's for my anxiety." She raised her eyebrows in that daring way, reached for the joint again and it lit up as she took another good puff. Afterwards she threw herself back, legs sticking up in the air "I eat out Mary Jane in here all the time, she fucking loves it." Took another puff before handing it to Joshua.

"I guess girls are included in the few things you're not allowed to have up in your bedroom at night."

"You're actually real lucky, Jesse. You can have guys over at that apartment whenever you want. My parents are fucking Catholic."

I felt a flood of rage at her for using my first name. Recalling in that moment my favourite biblical quote: They were not allowed to kill them but only to torture them for months. And the agony they suffered was like that of a sting of a scorpion when it strikes. During those days they will seek death but not find it; they will long to die but death will elude them.

It was Carter who spun back around and came to my defense "You can't say Jake's lucky for not having any family, Laurene. That's not right."

"I go by Jake, you bitch. Jesse's a girl's name." I stepped over and almost snatched the joint from Joshua "Give me that." I took an aggressive puff before handing it to Carter.

"Whatever," Laurene sighed in her self-pitying way, the troubles of feeling forever misunderstood. "But my life isn't as easy as you all seem to think. I'm not even allowed to fucking swear around my parents."

"Um, Laurene..." Joshua spoke up. She was staring at the roof, already looking bloodshot. The boy beside her hesitated "Don't be mad, but like, we weren't actually that good on Saturday."

"We fucking sucked." I added.

"That was only our first gig. We'll do better next time."

"None of us have any talent." I snapped and she rolled onto her side.

"Most performers don't have talent. Talent's irrelevant."

She always had an answer for everything. Joshua reached for the joint but I snatched it, standing and narrowing my eyes at him as I took another long drag, then handing it over.

"I wanted to kill that Cassie bitch yesterday." I confessed through the smoke. "She planned for us to perform when everyone was already smashed."

"Hmph." Laurene shrugged in her slump.

"I almost sprayed the kitchen teabags with insecticide but one of her friends walked in."

"Woah, what?" Carter asked and the boys blinked at me.

"Maybe we're wasting time with this dumb band idea. Maybe we should've killed her, or someone else who deserves it. All of us together."

"When you get like this it's hard to tell if you're joking." Kevin admitted, reaching for the joint.

Laurene pulled herself back up into a sitting position and regarded me. I'd always had a talent for projecting my moods outward. I could shift the atmosphere of a group conversation with just my posture and silence alone. Like spreading ink through water. My face an empty mask, or if I was really unhappy it was an unkind smile. When Kevin was done Laurene fished the joint from him and sucked in the last of it. Her eyes were still on me, narrowed and thinking. She shook off the tip and squished it on an ashtray. Finally she faced away from me to hang over the end of her bed, clothes and books toppling to the floor, she came back up again with another joint. How many had she already had today?

"You still got things to live for, Jake." She said without looking at me.

"I don't want to die." I told her and kept the next sentence to myself. I just really, really want to kill somebody.