The Burst

This is raw. Prudence has been ignored. I need to write because I have nowhere else, at the moment, to release.

One moment, she was chatting with me. The next, she was convulsing, spasming, vomiting. Demons possessed her body. She fought to regain control. At times, she would sit straight up and wrestle with us. Then she would succumb; allowing her body to writhe and jerk, vibrate and seize.

This is not new. But we haven’t seen it so severe for awhile. Even after witnessing it many times, it still haunts me; converts my mood to a bluer shade.

I was in the kitchen with Jeanette when it happened. I heard the first whimper. It was soft, but I knew. She was calling for her mother.

“Mom, where are you? I need you.”

She was repeating this phrase over and over. By the time we rounded the corner the seizure was setting in full and she shrieked a last frightened, “Mom!”

All we could do was sit near her, stroking her hair and reminding her quietly that she was not alone and that she was safe. Ten minutes passed as the storm surged through her body. Waves of it thundered over her.

Later, after she could speak again, I carried her up to her room. We agreed no book reading tonight. Too much for her mind to process. I asked her if she knew what had happened. She said, “well, sometimes you just get tired.”

“That’s all,” I asked.

“Yes. Sometimes you just get tired.”

She has no memory of her possession. But I do.