"I opened the door and saw it. Like a scene straight out of The Exorcist, the portable cot defied gravity; floating in mid-air, like a sailing ship without the sea. It was moving up and down while the sides pulsated, in and out, in and out, like some macabre horror movie prop..."
"At the first possible moment I carried out a covert mission to the incinerator to destroy the evidence of my failure as a human being. The paper writhed and burned, but the words were etched on the stone of my heart. I was irrevocably changed in that moment as I pulled up at the signpost of a major life detour..."
"Dragging myself out of bed, I lurched to the shower. My head was splitting. I melted into the steamy cocoon where I often stayed until the water went cold. The humid air loosened the fresh layers of tar in my lungs. I bent double coughing, trying to free evil, sticky rubber bands. I exhaled nicotine death. Stars floated in front of my eyes. I was sick. Sick at heart. Sick for which there was no pill. Sick of my life, sick of myself. I needed anaesthetic. I needed identity. I needed truth. Alcoholism had stalked our family for generations, gathering intensity en route. Its roots went deep ... "
“… This must surely be hell. I could sense demonic vultures circling, waiting for the twitching to stop. They perched on my shoulders and whispered in my ears. I was grateful they weren’t pecking my eyes out. Yet I was powerless to stand against them. How does one lay hold of the unseen?”
... "Before we could speak, once again the thing hit Mark and once again, Mark wasn’t Mark. Mark just didn’t move like that. He didn’t move his body like that, and he certainly didn’t move his eyes like that. It glared at us. In creepy slow motion it took a seat at the table with its strange eyes glued on us. Stefan spoke to me without taking his eyes off it or even blinking.
“Don’t say anything. Leave the talking to me. And don’t ask about the white light!” ...