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When The Exorcist was released, it made four hundred and forty-one million dollars in box office sales. And that was in 1973, so can you imagine what that would be today.

A lot of money.

I guess what that means is, trauma sells.

People want it. People will pay for it. They want to be terrified.

And I respect that, I do.

But I also wonder why. I mean, I know why I ’ ve wanted to be terrified, but not everyone has had their brain messed with to the point of numbness like me.

After some consideration, I’ve decided that ultimately it’s about safety. I think that when we watch these films, these awful and scary films, we want to put ourselves into a position of such fear that when it ends, we suddenly feel safe again. We think oh, thank fuck . The real world is nothing like that. My life is nothing like that so I’m going to be just fine.

But The Exorcist leaves a lingering doubt, which I’m not sure people expected when they watched it. Because people do believe that evil forces exist. We put so much faith into goodness. Into those people that tell us they stand against what is bad and wrong, and can help us, like Father Karras does with Regan. But I think Father Karras started to get a bit allured by the darkness. To enjoy being around it. I think the power it held was seductive to him. The distinction between good and evil begins to blur, and for a moment you wonder if anyone is actually very good at all.

And to me, that is scary. Really scary.

I mean, I assume.

Anyway, that’s all.

I’m in a bed. A bed I do not know.

In a small room. Just me.

And I’m wearing some kind of hospital gown. Interesting. It’s kind of cute, though. I think I look good in hospital gowns.

It’s very … One Flew Over the Cuckoo ’ s Nest .

A sharp pain twinges in the back of my head. I lift my hand to touch it and see my arm is bandaged. The left one.

OK. Also interesting.

On the right arm there are stitches by the inside of my wrist like a chunk of flesh has been taken from it and sewn back together. How strange.

‘Elias?’

I look up. A woman is standing at the door.

‘Hi,’ I say. It hurts to speak.

‘I’m a nurse,’ she says.

A nurse? Nurse Ratched? That would be cool .

‘Oh, hi…’

She smiles kindly at me. Dark hair pulled back. Green eyes. She looks kind. ‘Try not to talk too much, OK?’

‘OK…’

‘You’re safe now. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. Do you remember what happened?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Um… No, actually. Not really. Can you—’

‘You fell off the roof of your house,’ she says.

I what ? ‘Sorry, can you repeat that, please?’

‘You fell.’

‘Off the roof ?’

‘Yes. You’re very lucky to be alive.’

What the hell? ‘When?’

‘Two days ago.’

‘Two days ago?’

‘Yes, on Friday morning. Your parents were out for a run. Your neighbours spotted you up there. You were appearing a little manic. It’s OK, you’re absolutely fine. You’ve been in the hospital recovering over the weekend.’

I feel the twinge in the back of my head again and touch it with my fingertips, pressing them into a long gash directly behind my left ear. I can feel stitches. Five, six, seven of them.

‘Oh, don’t touch that,’ the nurse says. ‘You were cut when you landed. We don’t want it to get infected.’

Shit. ‘And I survived?’ I take in the look on her face that says well, clearly . ‘Cool.’

‘Listen, there’s someone here to see you. But if you need anything, my name is Tamara and I’m here to help you.’

‘Right. Tamara.’ Tamara… A nice name. ‘Thank you.’ Tamara seems nice.

‘Eli!’ I look round.

Lucas. Lucas .

‘Hi, Luc…’

He bounds over to me. ‘I’d hug you, but you look a bit delicate, bro.’ He has tears in his eyes. ‘Jesus. I was so worried. I’m glad you’re awake.’ He puts his hand on mine. ‘Mum and Dad have been worried sick. Just to warn you, there may be tears.’

‘Tears?’

He raises his eyebrows. ‘I know… They’re really upset. Shocked. I’m sure you are too…’

I don’t actually feel … anything.

And then I see them. Mum and Dad, making their way into the room, flowers in hand. Flowers.

‘Oh my God, Eli…’ Mum says, dashing towards me. She’s wearing a white blouse, her hair up in a ponytail.

And yep. She’s crying. She never cries.

‘Hi, Mum,’ I say as she leans down to kiss my cheek.

‘Careful,’ Lucas says.

‘I know, I’m sorry,’ she says. She touches the tip of her finger on to my nose. ‘Oh, darling, we’ve been so worried about you.’

‘I’m OK…’ I say.

I think. I don’t really know.

‘Hi, son.’ Dad is wearing his usual jumper-shirt combo that he thinks makes him look professional but relatable at the same time. ‘Christ, son, you’ll be the death of us.’

‘Sorry, Dad.’

He takes my hand in his and squeezes it. ‘Don’t you worry. Everything is fine now.’

He’s very wise, my dad.

‘So many people want to see you,’ Mum says. ‘To know you’re OK.’

That’s odd. I don’t know many people. ‘Who?’

‘Melinda, for one,’ Mum says.

My therapist. We have a strange relationship. I like Melinda, always have. We understand one another. I hate her and she hates me, but we love each other really.

‘Oh, right, yeah. I hit my head so she’ll probably love this.’

They all laugh in unison. It’s a bit strange but also kind of fun.

‘Ingrid sends her love,’ Lucas puts in. His girlfriend. I call her Intense Ingrid. Because she’s really intense.

‘And Peter,’ Mum says. ‘Of course.’

‘Peter?’ I repeat. ‘Who the hell is Peter?’

‘Um…’ Lucas looks at me, a little concerned. ‘Your boyfriend?’ He turns to Mum and Dad. ‘God, he must have hit it really hard.’ He turns back to me. ‘Listen, don’t worry. Take it easy.’

Well, that’s good. I have a boyfriend. How chic. ‘Do you think he’s into hospital attire?’ I say.

‘Eli!’ Mum says, but I can see her smiling.

The door opens again. It’s Melinda.

Oh. OK. So, we are doing this now? ‘Hey, shrink.’

‘How are you doing, Elias?’ She has her hair pulled back all neat, like Mum’s.

‘I’m a little confused, I must admit.’

‘Of course you are. You’re very lucky.’

‘Apparently so.’

‘So, how are you feeling?’

Everyone is looking at me.

‘I’m not.’

‘You’re not what?’

‘Feeling.’

‘Right. Well, it’s probably something to do with hitting your head.’

‘Can people be turned into psychopaths?’

‘Sorry?’

‘That would be kind of cool.’

‘Elias,’ Dad says and laughs gently. Or nervously. Both. But I’m serious. I see him glance at Mum, who smiles back at him. They’re happy. Happy that I didn’t die falling off the roof.

Dad places the flowers on the desk. ‘For you.’

‘Thanks, Dad.’ I look at them all staring at me. ‘Wow, there’s lots of you. Big crowd.’

‘Sorry, Eli,’ Mum says. ‘Let’s give you some space. You need to rest.’

Melinda nods. ‘I’ll come back and talk to you once you’ve slept. How does that sound?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Sounds great.’

Lucas looks like he might cry now.

Maybe I should try and do it myself. I can’t remember the last time I cried. Everyone else seems to be doing it.

‘Right!’ Dad says. ‘Sorry, Eli. I can’t stay long. I need to get back to work. Busy, busy. You met Tamara?’

‘The nice nurse?’

‘Exactly. If you need anything, just tell her.’

‘I will.’

‘Any questions?’

‘No. Actually, yes. Where am I?’ They all laugh. They all laugh because they’re relieved that I’m alive.

‘You’re in a private clinic.’

‘Oh, right. Swanky.’

Dad winks. ‘Don’t mention it, son.’

‘I never got this treatment when I broke my arm,’ Lucas says. ‘You’re lucky.’

Everyone keeps saying that.

Mum kisses me on the cheek. ‘We’ll come back later. Don’t worry about anything.’ And then they all file out of the room.

I stare at the wall opposite where there’s a picture of a field full of sunflowers. All I can hear is the ticking of a clock.

OK. So…

I fell off the roof?

I look down at the cut on my wrist. Feel the one behind my head.

Strange. I don’t feel very bruised…

I look for my phone. I don’t seem to have one. OK. Well, I kind of like that. I hate technology anyway.

‘Hello?’

I look up.

There’s someone in the doorway. Someone I’ve not met before.

‘Hi,’ I say.

‘Can I come in?’

‘Might as well, everyone else has.’

She steps towards me, letting the door slam shut behind her. She’s staring at me.

Why is everyone staring at me today?

I like her hair. Kind of emo. Her purple nail varnish too. She looks like the kind of person I’d be friends with.

‘Are you OK?’ I say.

‘Yeah,’ she says slowly. Her eyes are a little … dead. It’s freaking me out a bit. ‘Is your name Elias?’

‘Um… Yeah…’ I say. ‘Why?’

‘I think…’ She stops and looks back at the door, checking.

Then she turns back to me, pulls her sleeve up and shows me her arm. There’s something written on it.

I feel a slight jolt inside me. A murmur of something. A flash of a memory, deep inside my brain. As I read the words, I feel a gap, a space, begin to open up inside it. For some reason, it makes me want to cry.

The truth is out there

And it’s not what you think.

Signed,

Elias Pew

Property of TEAR Solutions, Floor 1, Harper House

It’s in my own handwriting.

And there’s a drawing of an m-shaped bird on the inside of her wrist, in the exact same place my scar is.

OK. Well, that’s weird.

‘Do you know someone called Jack?’ she says.

I look up. Jack. Jack . Do I? ‘I don’t think…’ But I stop as I see she’s holding something in her hand.

Hanging from a chain is a wooden pendant. A rose. It looks a little odd, misshapen, perhaps home-made, but also kind of beautiful in a twisted way.

As I look closer, I see there’s a name carved in it. Four little letters. And as I stare at them, I feel something, deep inside me.

Some sort of inexplicable longing .

‘Wait…’ I say. Wait.

Jack .