Personal Demons Read Free

bugs.In all, Kevin was basically just like everyone else whose life hadn’t turned out exactly as they’d hoped or expected it would.
    Megan tried not to let her mind wander, but she couldn’t seem to focus. Her memory of Regina’s pale face and the deformed feet and the twisting tension in her stomach when Kevin touched her hand all pointed to a problem she’d never faced before, not like this.
    Anyone with psychic abilities dealt with their share of what Megan called “the shivers.” Some people just didn’t “feel” right. Maybe they liked kicking puppies, or swindling old ladies, or occasionally something even more violent and horrible. She’d met such people, of course. But Kevin made her feel like she was the problem, as if whatever threat existed came from deep inside herself.
    â€œHow long did you attend—” she checked the file and forced herself not to roll her eyes—“Fearbusters?”
    â€œSix months,” Kevin said. “And it’s a good program and everything, but lately…I’d rather see how I do on my own, you know?”
    â€œOf course.” She glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes left in this session. “Is there something in particular you’d like to focus on today in the time we have left?”
    â€œI had a nightmare last night,” he said. “A bad one.” For the first time she noticed something other than sadness and loneliness in his eyes. Fear lurked in the depths like a wasp in a flower bouquet.
    â€œTell me about it.”
    Kevin lay back on the soft leather couch, resting his head on the armrest, and closed his eyes. He smiled faintly, clearly enjoying this part of the session. It was a relief to talk to someone who listened.
    Megan tensed. At this point in a session she started tuning in, seeing what the patient saw, noticing what theymentioned or omitted and asking careful questions to find out why.
    She had to steel her nerves to do it for Kevin.
    She saw the room he walked across as he described it to her, and sighed with relief. No nausea, no fear.
    The cavernous room seemed to stretch into nothingness, with a ceiling so high only the fuzzy variations of color let her know something decorated it. The walls weren’t walls at all, but cupboards, with hundreds of doors in them, each two or three feet tall. It was like being in an enormous library card catalog, but lights came from under the small closed doors.
    â€œWas it an empty room, Kevin? Or was there furniture? Doors to other rooms?”
    â€œThere were doors. A lot of doors.”
    â€œWhat’s behind them?”
    In the dream memory Kevin paused and looked at the thin line of light on the floor. “I don’t know. Weapons?”
    Megan noted that answer on her pad. “Did you think you needed a weapon, Kevin?”
    â€œI didn’t think,” he said. “I just tried to get to the end of the room. There was something waiting for me there, something that wanted me to see it.”
    â€œWhat was it?”
    â€œI didn’t know. I just knew I needed to get there.”
    Another note. “What happened when you did?”
    At the end of the room another door loomed, larger than the others, with ornate carvings in the dark wood. She felt sweat rolling down her face—Kevin’s face. Was there a fire behind the door? Fire was a pretty common fear.
    Kevin’s voice changed now, growing higher and faint. Whatever hid beyond that door must not be pleasant. She braced herself as he reached for it. His hand closed over the ornate brass knob. Flesh sizzled.
    Kevin screamed. Something slammed into Megan with enough force to knock her out of her chair. She cried out, her head hitting the floor with a painful thud. The door still loomed in front of her, even as she saw Kevin jerking and convulsing on the couch, his mouth open, his eyes wide. Desperately Megan tried to put her shields back up, to break