Chapter Text
The first person to leave was Ricky. He was the first to move on into heaven. Then Constance, then Ocean, and then Mischa. Noel was left alone. Waiting in the dirty warehouse for his chance to be in paradise. He didn’t know if it was heaven. Maybe they all went to hell to be tortured for eternity. Most days he would find himself combing through random fuzzy memories trying to find anything else he could keep himself entertained with.
He would push the lever down a couple of times even though he knew Karnak was dead and nothing would happen. Ocean had found the dead rat in the box weeks earlier. She threw it in the backstage area cause gross. When it was only him and Mischa they would sit around in a comfortable silence just enjoying each other’s company, but then one day Mischa moved on. And Noel was empty again. He was alone with his thoughts, the dead fortune-telling machine, and the rat corpse backstage.
~~~~~~
“I can’t believe he’s still down there,” Constance stared at the tv while baking cookies.
“I kind of feel bad for him,” Ocean stated while reading the many books she now had. She got into philosophy and what it means to be a good person. At least she was trying to correct herself from all the shitty things she had done on Earth.
“I wish we could talk to him instead of just observing him.”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
“Is Ricky coming over today?”
Ocean just shrugged.
“It’s unlocked!” She exclaimed.
Mischa entered the room looking at his phone. He had dark circles under his eyes and his face was pale. Like he hadn’t seen the sun in years.
“Oh my god, Mischa you here! Are you okay?”
He shook his head and showed Constance his phone. It was countless texts from Talia, begging her love to respond.
“She’s alone. Without me.”
“Oh, Mischa.” She hugged him while he cried into her shoulder even though he was like a foot taller than her.
“Sucks to be her.” Ocean turned toward them suddenly interested in their conversation.
Constance gave her a look that said.
Seriously Ocean? Save it for another time.
Ocean's face morphed from a mix of confusion and excitement to shock and awkwardness.
“Oh my god, that was incredibly insensitive. Wow. Sorry, I’m very sorry,” she blurted out while desperately trying to not say something stupid to aggravate Mischa. She quickly went back to reading her book to prevent herself from doing something dumb.
“Do you think she’ll be okay?”
Mischa nodded. “Her parents are kind of shitty.”
“I’m making cookies do want some? Would that make you feel better?”
She said quickly changing the conversation to something lighter. Mischa sadly nodded and sat on the couch. Constance’s eyes wandered to the tv. She saw Noel sitting on a crate in the warehouse wringing his hands and picking at his fingernails. He looked nervous. “What if he never moves on?”
“That’s highly unlikely. He just has to accept his death and anything wrong with him. Like emotion wise.”
“But what if he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him? Remember that day you asked to wear makeup for choir rehearsal he said he didn’t remember some of his childhood. So uh, I don’t know I’m grasping at straws at this point.”
“Can’t we watch his childhood on here?”
“Yeah, I think so. Hold up.” Ocean placed a bookmark into her book and reached for the remote.
Constance turned to Mischa. “You wanna help us?”
Mischa snapped back to reality. “Yes?”
“Do you want to help me and Ocean figure out why Noel isn’t moving on.
Mischa nodded and stared at the tv so Ocean could change the channel.
~~~~~~
“I don’t want you to go, mom.”
“It’s only for an hour sweetie,” she ruffled his hair as she had a million times before. She finally finished applying the deep red lipstick. She held out her hand he ran over to her purse and grabbed the blue comb she had kept in there. Her eyes were fixated on her reflection. She rarely looked at her son directly. Every time the mirror reflected her son she would adjust it to face her. As she sat in her mirror chamber in the bathroom she made even more finishing touches to her makeup and hair.
“Dinner’s in the fridge heat it up if you get hungry. Okay, sweetie?”
“Why can’t you stay?” ‘ Please stay.’
“I have to meet up with my friends tonight. It won’t take me long.”It always took her hours to get home. Usually disoriented and wasted. Then she left him in the bathroom alone. ‘ I wanted you to stay.’
He wandered into the living room careful to not step on random fast food wrappers. As to not wake up his grandma.
CRUNCH
She jolted awake. Startled, she fumbled around for her glasses. Her vacant eyes landed on Noel. “Noel is that you? I need you to bring me my pack of cigarettes.” She let out a wheezing cough. It sounded like a dying animal.
“Don’t think about hiding them again. I know it’s you that doing that.” Her eyes were glued to the tv.
He carefully stepped over to the china cabinet. He opened the middle drawer. Right next to the plates and teacups a pack of Marlboro cigarettes lay there pathetically hidden between wine glasses. He grabbed the cigarettes and handed them to his grandma.
“Thanks, dear.” She used an almost dead lighter to light the cigarette up. As she inhaled the venomous air, toxic smoke filled up the room making it a foggy mess. She was watching The Blue Angel a movie that Noel secretly adored. His mother never let him watch those types of movies, but his grandma always played them on the tv. He would always quietly listen to the movies from his room with the thin walls and imagined himself as Lola Lola, the heartless booze hound harlot. He always liked French films. He could always catch his mother telling his grandma to stop watching these nihilistic films. She never stopped watching them. “Can you grab my good lighter dear? It’s in your parent's bedroom.”
His parent's bedroom. A complete mess. With bottles and colorful pills scattered around the floor. He stepped over trash and junk. He grabbed the black lighter and started to walk back.
SMASH
The glass bottle hit the floor breaking into a million little pieces. It shined in the candlelight glittery like the stars.
His father's hand wrapped around his leg. He was sprawled across the floor with a bottle of cheap clear liquid in his hand.
“Oh, Noel you’ve decided to be a- be a person today. Come here.”
Noel was pulled over to him, and with shaky legs, he sat down next to his father.
“I forgive you, Noel. Every single one of you.”
His hand tightened around his ankle making Noel grip the lighter to use as a weapon.
“We aren’t so different you and me. You’re exactly like me.”
I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to turn into you.
He tried to inch away from him holding the lighter out in front of him to protect himself. His father grabbed the lighter out of his hands and observed it while keeping his grip on Noel’s ankle. “This your grandma's lighter?” He nodded still reaching for the black lighter. “
Your mom leave?” He nodded again. “That lying son of a bitch. She- she’s cheating on me. Fuck.” He pulled the bottle of liquor to his lips and took a sip. He rose it to Noel offering him some of it. “Want some?” Noel furiously shook his head and yanked the lighter out of his father's grip and ran over to his grandma dropped off the lighter and scurried over to his room. He climbed into his closet. The only place where he could get privacy.
He could smell cigarette smoke. It was suffocating. The invisible cloud entered his room engulfing it in an unseen veil.
He curled up into a ball sitting on piles of dirty clothes. Leaning on the thin paper wall with barely any insulation to keep him warm. Then he cried. He hadn’t let himself cry in forever. Hot and heavy tears rolled down his cheeks he just wanted to live a normal life. Not in constant fear that he’ll lose in father to substances, his grandma to lung cancer, and his mother to her reflection.
~~~~~~
He woke up one day to the sound of gears whirring around inside the fortune-telling machine.
“You’ve inserted t-t-t-t-two loonies!”
“KARNAK HE SEES THE FUTURE!”
Noel’s head shot up from hearing the sudden noise. “Uh hello?”
The machine didn’t respond. He stood in front of the machine trying to get its attention. He jumped up to the platform and pulled the lever down. “Noel Gruber, born March 5th , Pisces: Sign of Passion. Favorite ride: The Ferris Wheel. Very early on in Noel’s life, his mother realized two things….The second was his penchant for all things nihilistic. While other children acted out Harry Potter, Noel acted out French New Wave Cinema. In Grade seven….During the Saint Cassian Christmas Nativity pageant, Noel was suspended for suddenly breaking into this excerpt from “Waiting for Godot”.
Noel just stood there unable to say anything. Suddenly his body moved against his will. It was like an out-of-body experience. Just watching someone use him in a dumb game unable to do anything.
“There is no room at this inn for it is Christmas. Shall we hang ourselves?” His breath picked up. Stop talking. Shut up.
Noel stood there in the middle of the stage.
‘Do I have to say the other lines?’ he thought
“I hear it gives you an erection. Then we must hang ourselves immediately. Or we could just go to the manger, Joesph.”
“Aspiring Iconoclast, enfant terrible……Noel Gruber, the most romantic boy in town.”
“What’s going on here?”
“I’m waiting for you to perform your monologue. Unless you want me to do that for you.
“What the fuck is going on. Tears fogged up his vision. He wiped them away.
“Like I said don’t bore us get to the chorus. I have a limited time here.”
“Please don’t. Please.” The air in the warehouse became hot. It felt like he wasn’t getting any air into his lungs.
Then the possession happened.
He was incapable of stopping his body from moving. This time it hurt. He didn’t want to do this. Pain washed over him like a tidal wave. The agony spread throughout his body as he performed for Karnak in some sick stupid game.
After the monologue, he fell to the ground. The discomfort was horrible. He fought with Karnak for control of his own body. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. His vision blurred as tears rolled down onto the floor.
The torment was so intense that he screamed. His voice echoed on the walls of the warehouse filling his ears with the sound of his misery.
It hurts so fucking much.