A Bizarre But True Story Of One Woman’s Battle With Demonic Forces.
It wasn’t long after Mom and I moved in with Grand Mother in 1999, that Daren came into my life, perhaps it was the stress of living with the old woman that made him so attractive to me. Grand Mother was many things, cruel, obsessive, demanding, controlling, however empathetic, kind, or nurturing was concepts totally foreign to her. In retrospect, I understand why Mom turned out the way she did, after being raised up by that old witch.
Every evening was the same; I would get home from school, go upstairs to my room to do my homework until Grand Ma called me to dinner. I would eat alone at the dinette table in the kitchen while she would take her meal into the living room and watch television. When I finished eating, it was my job to wash all the dishes and do the laundry, then afterwards return to my room where I would read or otherwise entertain myself until bedtime; which was a time of day that I hated.
Every night—just before bedtime—Grand Mother would prepare a bath (the old house didn’t have a shower) for me and call me down stairs when it was ready. At thirteen I was more than able to bathe myself but the old witch thought she had to help. The whole time making snide innuendos about washing the filth away, especially as she washed my breasts which were already more developed than any of the other girls my age at school. She made me feel dirty, which was probably due to the fact that I reminded her of my Father who she hated vehemently.
Mother worked days as a secretary, but apparently she didn’t like living with Grand Mother either as she was never home, out with her “gentleman friends” every night. I seldom got to see her except on Sundays and then—always hung over from Saturday night—she never wanted to talk to me or spend time with me, to be a Mother.
After the degrading bath each evening, I would go back upstairs and to bed, laying there all the while before drifting off to sleep listening to Grand Mother’s television blaring in the room below. Then each and every night, just before I would finally drift off, the bedroom door would fly open. Grand Mother in her evil obsessive and controlling manner, would silently creep up the stairs, tip toe across the landing, and fling my door open screaming at the top of her lungs; “What are you doing? Get those hands out from under the covers!”
Until Daren came into my life I had no idea what the old woman’s problem was, I simply didn’t understand what was so wrong with having my hands under the covers? It was during one of these fits of Grandma’s that I saw Daren for the first time.
That night, I was almost asleep, thinking that just perhaps I was going to drift off in peaceful slumber without her tirade as if she had forgotten the nightly routine, when suddenly she slung the door open and started in with her baseless—at least up until that night—accusations and innuendos. Then something strange happened, instead of curling up in a fetal position, withdrawing from her mind altering screaming, I saw—in the mirror next to the door—the most beautiful face, a man, twenty-something smiling back at me. The peaceful tranquil look in his eyes mesmerized me, drowning out the screams of my Grand Mother and it was if that look in his eyes took me to another place. This enchanted moment was suddenly shattered as Grand Mother in her rage slammed the door and I could see Daren no more. But it was not to be the last time I beheld that face.
The next morning, while riding the bus to school, I looked out the window while the bus was stopped at a traffic light and there in a bright red sports car, was Daren looking back at me. Then just as suddenly the light changed and he was gone. Later that day as I was walking to the cafeteria, I saw Daren just outside the attendance office, I ran to him as he entered the open door of the office, but when I got to the door he was nowhere to be seen.
For the next few days this scenario repeated itself, I would see him but would be unable to get to him. I was going mad—but I didn’t know why—I wanted to run into his arms but was frustrated at every attempt, until one night when Grand Mother had finished her routine harangue and when she slammed the door, there he was, he had been hiding behind the door waiting for her to leave. Slowly he walked to my bed—that mesmerizing smile upon his face—as he stripped naked, reveling his beautiful masculinity and slipped under the covers with me.
That night I learned what it was that Grand Mother feared I was doing under the covers; Daren held me softly with one arm as he took my hand and guided it to places that previously I had never dreamed of.
I had gone to sleep in his arms that night, only to wake up the next morning to find him gone. Hurriedly I prepared for school and ran to the bus, and once again there he was in that red sports car, teasingly passing by and then waiting at a stop light. I opened the window and waved at him puckering my lips as if to send him a kiss, but the girl in the seat next to me asked what I was doing and when I told her I was blowing a kiss to the guy in the red car, she replied: “All I see is a trash truck, what’s wrong with you girl?
The days became a blur, every day the same as the last, I would see his face in a crowd, never able to get to him until that evening after Grand Mother’s usual tirade and there he would be, waiting to take me to pinnacles of pleasure unimaginable. The more the months went by the more I became addicted to Daren and the pleasures he took me too, and the more I retreated into a world of my own. My grades at school started falling as I constantly fantasied about my next romantic encounter with my true love Daren, all my friends at school—the few I had—abandoned me claiming I was a freak, I simply couldn’t help it if they were incapable of seeing my wonderful Daren who now always accompanied me everywhere I went, and to whom I talked to constantly.
As far as I was concerned everything was going along just fine, even though the school had notified my Father (when Mom failed to respond to their calls and letters) that my grades were failing and—in their opinion—I needed psychiatric help. I was so wrapped up in Daren that I was totally oblivious to the fact that Mother had quit her day job and was earning her living as a professional lady of the evening, I also completely failed to see that she was a hopeless drug addict, until the day that the lady from Child Protective Services showed up at school to take me into custody. It seems that Mom had been busted for prostitution, and found to be in possession of a rather large quantity of Meth.
This was news that brought Dad back into my life.
Dad was notified of the situation and promptly granted custody of me, while Mother started her way through the courts and subsequently the penal system, by the time she finally got out, I was past the age of having to live with her anymore. At the time I thought I was totally in heaven, no more listening to Grandma fanatical ravings and Daren anytime I wanted him.
Then along came the shrink that Dad was asked to take me to by the case worker assigned to me by the family court. It seems Dad, the staff at school and the case worker all were growing concerned with me—a fifteen year old—constantly talking to what they considered to be an imaginary friend; I couldn’t understand what their problem was, I could see and hear Daren perfectly.
Almost a year went by before I first told my shrink about Daren. At my lover’s suggestion I at first toyed with the good doctor telling all sorts of irrelevant stuff that Daren helped me make up; it was so much fun. The Doctor would ask a question, and Daren would give me the answer which I repeated to Doc as he—like all the others—just wasn’t attuned to hearing my beautiful Daren who was always setting right at my side in front of the “blind” doctor. It was during these first months of therapy that Daren introduced me to his “friends.”
My loving Father in a moment of what he perceived to be wisdom bought me a computer, thinking that maybe it would help me in my studies and get my grades back up. Daren however had a better idea. He showed me where to access chat rooms that his friends or at least men that he claimed were his friends hung out, and through the computer introduced me to a new, world of excitement.
Upon joining the chat rooms I quickly made several new friends, all boys my age, who like Daren seemed to know just what to say to me to make me feel good. After a couple of weeks visiting with Stan, he wanted to meet me face to face. At first I was hesitant, not wanting to offend Daren or make him jealous, but actually Daren insisted that I sneak out of the house late at night and meet his buddy Stan; which I did.
Waiting at the park just down the street from Dad’s house, I was expecting to see Stan walk up or maybe riding his bike as he had led me to believe that he was fifteen like me, so I was surprised to see a SUV drive into the parking lot. An older looking guy got out of the SUV and walked towards me, at first I was scarred started to run but Daren told me it was okay, so I just stood there as “Stan” came up an asked if I wanted to go for a drive with him.
We drove just out of town and parked on a dirt road where Stan introduced me to what I had only fantasied about with Daren. As Stan drove me home afterwards, I felt dirty and betrayed, but Daren consoled me and told me how happy I had made him by going “all the way” with Stan, and before the evening was over, Daren had me totally convinced that not only what I had done was acceptable, but an exciting adventure that I couldn’t wait to repeat again. During that first year of seeing the shrink every week, there were many more nights like the one with Stan, with so many men that I can’t even now recall all of their names. And like all of the previous years since Daren came into my life I thought everything was going pretty good, until the night that my date turned out to be a social worker accompanied by a cop.
As I neared my seventeenth birthday, Daren was spending less and less time with me, claiming that he was allowing me “space” to be with his friends that I was meeting on the Internet. It was during one of Daren’s absences that David appeared in the chat room.
Apparently Daren was unaware that “David” was not his friend, in fact David wasn’t even a real guy but a persona made up by people that were trying to rescue girls like me from the predators on the ‘net; well I didn’t think the guys were predators, up to that point my night life was exciting, addicting. At least I wasn’t taking money for what I was doing like Mom had been; I reasoned there was nothing wrong with it and it was so much fun. The excitement of sneaking out of the house and back in again without Dad ever knowing anything, oh and the pleasure was so wonderful. After the first couple of guys, I learned to block out of my mind the man I was with instead visualizing that it was my Daren that was making love to me.
Then “David” insisted that I give him the phone number, which they promptly did a reverse search on locating the address of Dad’s house, and then they had the audacity—the social worker and the cop—to come to our house and ask to speak to Dad with transcripts and the IP addresses of the conversations I had been having with “David” and others in the chat rooms in hand. I was permanently grounded, the computer was confiscated and my fun was over; the worse thing however was just when I really needed him Daren had abandoned me.
To make a long story short—as luck would have it—as soon as he heard the news from Dad, my shrink changed my therapy plan. Doc knew of group program in our city for girls like me who had become addicted to meeting older men for sex, and while at first I hated it, I eventually learned that what I had been doing was not only wrong but dangerous, you see, as shock therapy the group counselors took us girls to the morgue to see a corpse of a girl our age that had not been so lucky as we had been.
During one of weekly visits—a year into therapy—Doc again asked me why everyone said I constantly talked to an imaginary friend, since Daren was not there that day—he had been conspicuously absent since the night Dad found out about my adventures—I decided to tell Doc about my friend.
About that same time, Dad and my new step-mother started dragging me along with them to her church, where as luck would have it another one of the girls in the group was being forced to attend by her parents. Nichole and I developed a sister like bond, at first in our rebelliousness of being forced to attend church, but as time went on we became close friends just because we had so much in common—other than group—and both thought each other was pretty cool. As time went on Nichole started to let her defenses down—opened her heart—and soon accepted Christ as her Savior, but I had some more experiences to go through yet before I found God.
That night after I told the shrink about Daren, he came back, with a vengeance. Instead of just being at my side, holding me in his arms, comforting me, whispering just the right things into my ear, he rushed back into my life and into my mind. The experience was so intense that I remember my head feeling like it was going to explode, just before I passed out. Then there was nothing but blackness, my consciousness was aware of what was going on—I mean I could hear what happened over the next several months—but I was unable to do anything about it. I could see everything, the doctors, nurses, technicians that performed the battery of tests that I underwent, and of course the hospital room, but my consciousness was totally detached, I felt nothing, I screamed by nothing came out of my mouth, and what did pass my lips was not my voice or anything I wanted to communicate.
They tell me that Dad and Shelly—my new stepmother—were awakened that first night by a sound they said was like a battle in a war zone, they knew the horrible noise was coming from my room and when they decided to investigate, they found me (as they told me later) in a fit of rage destroying my room and everything in it. Shelly said I attacked my Dad and nearly beat him to death before he could get away from me and shut me in my room; it was Shelly that had the presence of mind to call an ambulance as well as the Police. From the reports I have since read it took two cops and both ambulance guys to get me under control, while the third paramedic attended to my poor Daddy who was bleeding profusely from the wounds I had inflicted.
When I became aware of what was happening to me—even though I was powerless to do anything about it—I was in the psych ward tied down in a bed, where I was to spend the next several months, and suffered through all sorts of tests. I won’t bore you with all the details, but to explain that my shrink; who was satisfied that he had done everything he could for me, called in another psychiatrist who happened to know a Priest that he thought could help me. Yeah you guessed it; they did an Exorcism on me. Actually I don’t remember much about it, but they tell me it lasted over 38 hours.
After having spent several years in therapy with Doc, joining the church and accepting Christ, I now know that Daren was not any kind of friend to me, but a demon in disguise. Being a survivor, I have researched the phenomena and now recognize that—although it is unusual for a thirteen year old to develop and imaginary friend—my mental state was in such a condition from the mental abuse of my maternal Grandmother that I was susceptible to allowing what appeared to an imaginary friend into my life but that so called friend was no childhood playmate but rather a full blown demon appearing in the form of Daren.
Currently I am finishing post graduate work in clinical psychology and Christian counseling, with the intentions to someday be a part of a ministry that helps people who are suffering from that which I experienced; demonic oppression and full demonic possession like I had when Daren took over my body. And one last thing; never believe that demons do not exist, that the Rite of Exorcism is something found only in the movies. The principalities of evil are very real. Existing not only in the form of people like my Grand Mother whose pathology of evil ruined my Mother’s life, and nearly cost me mine, but in the form of spirits, demons that can take over your life, if you let them.
A note from the staff at Saint Michaels Chapel;
We received the story above in the form of an e-mail from a person who simply identified herself as Susan V….. Whether or not this is her real name or where she lived when this happened to her, we do not know. However we—with her permission—published this story here, to help others see that imaginary friends are not always harmless figments of a child’s imagination. Like Susan pointed out it is unusual for a thirteen old to develop such a friend, but research indicates that even adults report—not imaginary friends—but what we often refer to as “familiar spirits.”
In some cases people have reported that these spirits appear as departed souls, family or friends that have passed away and a ghost makes itself visible to the victim. Most clergy agree that the dead cannot make themselves apparent and if the manifestation is real and not a hallucination it is probably a demon disguising itself as someone known to the victim. In other cases the victims tell stories remarkably similar to Susan’s in that for some reason they have permitted a “familiar” spirit—which is much like the case of the entity known as Daren—to enter into their life. Usually the familiar takes on more of a persona typical of what one might expect of a mischievous and malicious Leprechaun or even a poltergeist or mischievous ghost that torments the living.
If you or someone you care for is being tormented by such an entity as described in this article, please contact your Priest, Minister, or call us at 417 598 7212