Chain On The Crescent

 

Mrs Lin

The Amtrak Crescent rumbled out of New Orleans, cutting through the morning haze toward Picayune. Mrs. Lin sat by the window, staring at nothing, her mind back home with her daughter—alone, chained to the bed again.

She hated those padded restraints more than anything, but after the last time her girl had levitated off the mattress and spoken in a voice that sounded like gravel and smoke, Mrs. Lin didn’t have a choice. She had to go to work. Bills didn’t care about demons.

The doctors said psychosis. The preacher said Legion. The preacher had tried three exorcisms, then went blind for a week and never came back. Some days her daughter was fine—laughing, normal, begging for extra syrup on her waffles. The next minute she was snarling in languages nobody in Louisiana had any business knowing and trying to bite through her own wrist.

Mrs. Lin was so deep in it she didn’t notice the young man until he spoke.

“Excuse me, ma’am—I think that’s my seat.”

She looked up. Early twenties, polite smile, holding his phone with the ticket pulled up. Beat-up backpack, tired eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby.” She slid over. “Mind was somewhere else.”

“No problem at all,” he said, dropping into the seat with a long sigh.

“You alright?” she asked.

He gave a tired laugh. “Been sleeping on the street in New Orleans the last couple weeks. Finally got enough saved for a room and a new job up in Picayune. Trying to look halfway human for the interview.”

Mrs. Lin’s heart softened. “Lord, that’s hard.”

He shrugged, then dug into his backpack and pulled out a folded work shirt. He glanced at her, cheeks red. “Ma’am, this is gonna sound crazy, but is it okay if I change real quick? I do it all the time on this train—nobody ever notices.”

Mrs. Lin actually smiled—first real smile in days. “Son, I’m fifty-seven and got a possessed child chained to a bed right now. Go right ahead. Ain’t nothing I ain’t seen.”

He grinned, relieved. “Thank you. Name’s Justin, by the way.”

“Mrs. Lin,” she said. “Pleasure, Justin.”

He turned toward the aisle for a little modesty and swapped shirts fast. Mrs. Lin looked out the window again, but the knot in her chest loosened just a fraction. Sometimes all it takes is a stranger being kind to remind you the world hasn’t completely gone to hell.

After Justin buttoned his clean shirt, he sat back down and gave her a sideways look.

“Ma’am… you weren’t serious about the possessed-daughter thing, right? Tell me that was just a joke to mess with the homeless kid.”

Mrs. Lin let out a tired laugh that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I wish I was, Justin. One minute we were eating cereal like any other Tuesday. Next thing I know, my baby girl’s sitting at the table… and she’s not in there with me.”

Justin shifted in his seat. “Look, I’ve slept under bridges from here to Baton Rouge. The street beats the fear of ghosts right out of you. I don’t really believe in that stuff.”

“If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t either,” she said quietly. “I called her name three times. When she finally looked up… her eyes were solid white. Not rolled back—just pure white, like milk glass, with little red veins crawling up her cheeks. Then she smiled, real slow, and said in this voice that still rattles my bones: ‘You will suffer, Mama.’ Wasn’t my Rebecca talking.”

Justin swallowed hard. “Jesus.”

“Almost had a heart attack right there at the kitchen table.” She stared at her hands. “That was six months ago. Been downhill ever since.”

A long silence settled between them, broken only by the steady clack of the rails.

Justin cleared his throat. “I’m real sorry, ma’am.”

Mrs. Lin looked at him for a long moment, then out the window at the pine trees whipping past. An idea flickered across her face—half hope, half desperation.

“Justin… how would you feel about renting a room at my place? House is way too big for just the two of us, and I’ve got spare bedrooms sitting empty.”

He blinked. “Ma’am, I—I just told you I’m broke. I’ve maybe got forty-three dollars to my name right now.”

“You wouldn’t owe me a dime. Not till you’re on your feet.” She leaned in a little. “My daughter—Rebecca—she’s nineteen. Same age as you. She’s… lonely. Scared. If she saw a new face, somebody kind, somebody her own age… maybe it’d bring her back a little. Even for a day.”

Justin stared at her, the offer sinking in. Winter was coming fast. Nights on the street in December could kill you.

“You’re serious,” he said.

“As a heart attack.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about frostbite, about waking up with ice in his beard, about the way this woman was looking at him—like he might actually be an answer to somebody’s prayer.

Finally he nodded. “All right. If it’ll help Rebecca… and if you’re sure… I’d be honored, ma’am.”

Mrs. Lin’s eyes filled up, but she smiled for the first time all morning. She pulled an old receipt from her purse and scribbled on the back with a pen.

“Here’s the address. And my cell. You get yourself up to Picayune anytime—today, tomorrow, middle of the night, don’t matter. Door’ll be unlocked and a room’ll be waiting.”

Justin took the paper like it was made of gold. “Thank you, Mrs. Lin. Truly.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, folding her hands tight so he wouldn’t see them shake. “Maybe you’re the miracle we been praying for.”

The train whistle moaned as Picayune station slid into view—two platforms, a couple of benches, and a sky turning the color of bruised peaches.

Neither of them knew it yet, but one of them was about to meet Rebecca for the first time.

And only one of them would still be entirely human when it was over.

A week later, on a sunny Saturday morning, Mrs. Lin and her daughter Rebecca were just sitting down to breakfast when the doorbell rang. Mrs. Lin sighed.

“Who on earth is coming by this early?” she muttered, glancing at Rebecca. Her daughter gave her a curious look, but Mrs. Lin just shrugged and headed to the door.

When she opened it, she did a double-take. Standing on the porch, looking nervous but hopeful, was Justin.

“Justin!” she exclaimed, breaking into a huge smile.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he said politely, a shy grin spreading across his face. “Hope I’m not too early.”

“Not at all! Come in, come in—we’re just about to eat breakfast.”

“We?” Justin asked, suddenly looking a little uneasy.

Mrs. Lin laughed. “My daughter Rebecca’s here. Come meet her.”

Justin let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d spent the whole week wondering if Mrs. Lin would even remember him—or if her offer still stood. Seeing the warmth in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

He stepped inside and followed her to the kitchen. At the table sat a young woman who could’ve stepped straight out of a magazine—beautiful, with striking green eyes and an easy smile.

“Rebecca, this is Justin—the young man I told you about,” Mrs. Lin said proudly. “Justin, this is my daughter Rebecca. I might’ve mentioned… her situation.”

Justin nodded, extending his hand. “Nice to finally meet you, Rebecca.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” she said, shaking his hand with a genuine smile. “Mom wouldn’t stop talking about you. I’m really glad you came.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

Mrs. Lin beamed. “So polite—and straight off the street, no less!”

Justin smiled. “People can choose who they want to be, ma’am. I just chose to be someone my mom would’ve been proud of.”

“That’s beautiful, honey,” Mrs. Lin said, already pulling out a chair. “Now sit down and let me fix you a plate.”

And just like that, Justin became part of their home.

He was a godsend around the house. He fixed the creaky back door, patched the leaky faucet, mowed the lawn every weekend, and tinkered with anything that wasn’t working right. He never complained, never asked for much, and always said “yes, ma’am” and “thank you.”

Little by little, both Mrs. Lin and Rebecca grew to love him—not in a romantic way (at least not yet), but like the son and brother they’d never had.

Best of all, Rebecca had been herself the whole time. No episodes, no dark moods, no signs of the thing that used to take over her. For the first time in years, the house felt peaceful.

And as the weeks turned into months, Rebecca and Justin grew closer than anyone expected—two kind souls who’d both been through too much, finding something like family in each other.