My Soul To Keep

by Jackie Sonnenberg

  I thanked Mitchell and got up, keeping the smile on my face from shaking, and frankly, keeping my whole body from shaking. He watched me get up and leave, not moving from his desk or saying another word.

  I felt wobbly and weird and the first thing I wanted was a hot cup of tea and honey. The idea itself sounded soothing and I badly needed to relax and get a hold of myself. I sat at the kitchen counter for a minute, slapping my palms down on the counter and exhaling slowly. In my mind I replayed the scene in Mitchell’s office and everything that we said, but most importantly, I tried to imagine what exactly was said about me…and by whom. I, of course, had my suspicions. I felt the tension in my fingernails as they pressed against the counter and if I could have dug down and ripped right through it I would have. I would have if I could pretend it was Damien and Iris. I wish I did have Damien and Iris at my mercy. Them and their sharp tongues would be sorry. What was Damien getting at by what he said about me? Did he say things on purpose, or was it pressured out of him?

  I got up and fixed that cup of tea, filling the water up so high it actually could be seen over the rim. I got it out of the microwave and dunked the tea bag in over and over, feeling just how hot I made it. Tiny drops of fire rained on my hand—and at once the activity outside began to mimic. I felt the drops on my skin and then heard the drops splatter on the window, the porch, and the roof. The faster I drowned the tea bag the faster the rain began to fall. The evening storm made itself very clear. The first flash of lightning and small crack of thunder shot through the outside, and almost at the same time, the lights above began to weaken.

  I heard voices rush in and out of the walls. The voices increased when the house lights flickered and then went out completely. The microwave time went out and flashed as people walked about The Manor, announcing there was a blackout and looking for flashlights and candles. Kimberly and Carol came in with a handful of candles and started to light them, placing them all around the kitchen and counters.

  “Give us a hand, would you Sky?” asked Kimberly. “We are going to need more of these.”

  I got up and lit some candles while the rain and thunderstorm roared outside. People got to work lighting up the house, their voices coming from every corner of the place, and some of them I knew did not belong to students.

  Chapter 36

  That night I dreamed I was wading through a pool that came up to my waist, but it was not filled with water. It was more like mercury, or molasses. It felt as thick as molasses but it was the color and look of mercury. The pool was long and wide and silver and did not seem to have an ending point. I didn’t know what this dream meant or where I was supposed to go, but I was having a hard time getting anywhere. I pushed and pushed through that substance, struggling to make it a few inches, finding that each time I tried to fight through it my very bones were breaking. I struggled to make a step and bend my knees and instead felt like they were being crushed. I pushed against the stuff I was in only to give up midway and sink.

  I woke up instantly, seeing gold instead of silver. In the daytime sun light I could tell that the rainstorm settled and the power had come back on. My alarm clock flashed repeatedly to remind me to set it properly once I got the chance, or whenever I felt like it. As I moved around in my bed I realized that the feelings I got from my strange dream were all still there. I moved to sit up and move the blankets around, and everything from the waist down became incredibly sore. I wiped my eyes and rubbed my head. The minute I pushed down on the bed to get up, something disturbed me. I tried to push again, tried to move more… only to realize that I was having a hard time moving. Confused, I pulled back my blankets to look at my body.

  Everything was in place, and despite the realistic injuries I felt in my dream, I didn’t have any broken bones. I didn’t see anything, but the pain was there. It was there when I moved my knees, but it was there even worse when I moved my feet. Needles of various sizes stabbed every part of my left foot. It felt more than it was just asleep. My feet felt heavy and it hurt to move them. I rubbed my legs up and down only to see that they felt the same way. My legs ached and the more I urged them to move the heavier they felt. My pulse started to race as I started to panic. I tried with all my might to move my legs over the side of the bed to get out, but something was going on. The entire lower half of my body felt like it was stuck in concrete and I was a living statue. I pulled and pulled and twisted and turned in my bed, until finally I rolled over and completely fell out. I landed—hard—on the floor and screamed.

  I screamed again because I landed on my hip and it did not feel like little prickles. I pulled myself up the best I could and urged my feet to move. I twisted sideways to look at my bottom half just as I heard feet thundering down the hallways.

  “Sky?”

  The door opened and Holly, Kimberly, Carol, Becky, and some others rushed into my room. They saw me lying on the floor and looked equal parts concerned and confused.

  “My legs!” I cried. “I…I can’t move my legs!”

  They came all the way in, Carol at once trying to move me.

  “Someone get a chair or something,” Carol said. “A desk chair.”

  Carol squatted down and attempted to pick me up. She scooped me up and I put my arms around her shoulders, not realizing how strong she was.

  “We’ll find out what’s wrong with you,” Carol said. “We’ll get you fixed.”

  The caravan brought me downstairs, and Becky found an extra desk chair from one of the study rooms. She rolled it over just as we were coming downstairs. I clung to Carol’s shoulders, deathly afraid that if she were to put me down or drop me at any moment I wouldn’t be able to stand up. My feet swayed pathetically like two wet noodles as we went down the stairs. They moved lifelessly, weightlessly, but to me they still felt concrete and hard. By this time there was a small commotion over me and other students started to take notice.

  “Bring that over here, Becky!”

  I was put in the chair, and as soon as my butt hit the seat my legs fell before me and there was where they would stay. I scrambled in the chair, pulling myself up and trying to pull at my legs. It really was no use. I really could not move them at all.

  “What happened?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Did you hurt yourself?”

  I of course had a ton of questions fired at me from all directions, and I wished I had at least one answer.

  Carol disappeared and left me with everyone. I thought at this point that I would be going to the nurse when Mitchell showed up.

  “Sky, what’s the matter?”

  I looked up at him, almost thinking the rest of me had gone paralyzed as well. His eyes were steady and relaxed, showing no signs of alarm or even acknowledgment that one of his students was hurt.

  “Something’s wrong with my legs,” I stammered. “I woke up, and I couldn’t move them or get up at all and they hurt when I try to move them.”

  Mitchell suddenly shut his eyes. Some of the students stayed by me, putting a hand on me or on the chair as they watched Mitchell. His eyes did not shut completely. From my chair I could tell that they barely squinted shut and all we saw were the whites of his eyes, as they had rolled in the back of his head. Mitchell’s forehead tensed as small wrinkles snaked across his eyebrows… then they were gone. I sat up as Mitchell opened his eyes and looked at me, his entire face relaxing.

  “Come, Sky. Let us assess the situation before we get you any medical attention.”

  Mitchell came behind me and started to roll me over to his office. I gripped the arms of the chair, knowing that I was now completely at his mercy and would have nowhere to go if something happened. But what would happen? What could happen? What exactly was wrong with me, and why did danger settle at the corners of my mind?

  We got into Mitchells’ office—now officially my third time in there—and he turned to face me. I kept my grip on those chair arms and addressed him.

  “How and why would I lose complete feeling
in my legs all of a sudden? I woke up and felt like a statue!”

  “My child, I have consulted with The White Light and the spirits, who are with me. The Light watches over us, as you know and see. It seems to me that this incident of yours corresponds with the talk we were having yesterday.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well I am not completely sure, but it seems to me that the spirits felt like you needed to be grounded…literally.”

  Mitchell rested his hand in his chin while he addressed me, and looked at my legs. He sounded almost too casual, as if my sudden paralysis didn’t raise an alarm. I stared back at him, fighting to get any words processed in my head. I had to say something, but I was completely speechless.

  “I wouldn’t worry,” was Mitchell’s conclusion. “They do like to test us once in a while, don’t they? Test our loyalty and test our strength. It seems to me that you might have been struggling with your proper place. This is your proper place, Skyler. “

  I had been trying not to blow up or hyperventilate.

  “Am I paralyzed?”

  “I don’t believe so. You are stronger than this. You just have to look within yourself and prove it.”

  I had a million questions. Of course I did. I didn’t get a chance to get any more of them answered, or frankly to get any more answers out of Mitchell. Someone knocked lightly on the door and he turned his attention away from me, chatting with someone for a second and then opening the door all the way.

  Carol came into the room and approached me.

  “So she’s doing okay?”

  Mitchell gave a brief nod. “Let us just be sure she gets plenty of rest. This little Light will not go out.”

  I looked to the both of them, feeling helpless and confused.

  “Keep your faith Sky,” Mitchell said. “Carol why don’t you fix her something to eat?”

  And just like that, I was rolled out of the office without a second thought. There was only one silver lining to this horrible situation: It was Saturday, and I did not have to worry about how I was going to get to classes. I could just relax at The Manor. For the rest of the day I felt like a handicapped person. Technically, I was, and what frightened me the most was I didn’t know for how long. I needed help getting food, getting around, and being carried upstairs to the residential floor to brush my teeth and change my clothes. I didn’t feel numb in just my legs; I felt numb emotionally and could not look at people. Everyone asked what happened to me, and I kept telling them that I didn’t know and I woke up that way. I knew that they talked about me. I could tell by the way people would look at me and say something to one another privately, but secretly to make sure I wasn’t looking. At one point I turned my head and heard “Skyler…run away….” Now, they thought of me as a prisoner being punished for trying to escape.

  Damien and Iris saw me. I know they did. Iris acknowledged me casually, but I saw the same look on her face that I saw on Damien’s. It had to be the lowest form of pity. Look at her, what a little invalid. She can’t use her legs. She has to pay for not believing. Damien’s face was the worst. I couldn’t tell if he now looked down on me, or if he truly felt sorry for what was happening to me. Either way, it was like he believed it happened to me for a reason.

  I kept to myself for the most part. I only had the company of others when I needed to be waited on. Each time someone got me a glass of water, I tried in vain to see if I could do it myself. I would grab on to the chair arms and thrust my pelvis out, but I could not get my legs to cooperate. Each attempt became harder and harder. I became a jellyfish with sprawling limbs that I could not control or even maintain. So, I spent most of my time feeling scared and sorry for myself. I eventually went into a slump for being emotionally drained, and tired for struggling so much physically and mentally. Please, I begged whoever was listening. Let my body move again.

  I looked down at my feet, stretched in yellow socks with little goldfish all over them. If I could move my feet, it would look like those goldfish were swimming. I needed those goldfish to swim again. I at once thought of that scene in Kill Bill Vol. I, right near the beginning when the main character gets out of the hospital and steals a car. She sat in the seat with her paralyzed legs stretched out in front of her, concentrating very hard, and saying out loud to wiggle her big toe. Wiggle your big toe. She says this over and over again and concentrates, and finally we see an inch of movement that tells us everything we need to know. The main character breaks out of her confinement and is mobile again. In vain I picture this scene and try to mimic it, focusing on those goldfish and urging them to start swimming.

  Wiggle your big toe.

  Wiggle your big toe.

  Something moved all right, but it was not my toes. A tidal wave of a shadow washed over those fish and I looked up. Seth stood by the armchair I was in in the upper lounge, and I didn’t even hear him come in.

  “Sky?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How are you?”

  It was an innocent question, but Seth did not put it casually. He said it as though he were looking for a specific answer.

  “Well, I still can’t move. I’m confused and angry and freaked out and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  Seth’s glossy eyes stayed in one place, barely blinking.

  “I understand.”

  “I don’t think you do.”

  “Well, I do,” he said coming over to me. He felt his way over to an empty chair and sat in, slowly and carefully like an Emperor would. “Sky, we were chosen by the spirits to test. They recognized something in us that was not right, and they decided to fix us. We were fixed.”

  I could barely sit up but I tried to.

  “What in the world are you talking about? You can’t possibly think…”

  “Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?”

  I paused, considering his face and how serious his tone was.

  “No,” I answered honestly. “Because I don’t think I did anything to deserve to lose the ability to move my legs!”

  “Sky, this is a test. Don’t you see? You have to look past the physical burdens that our human bodies give us every day. The White Light is trying to teach you something. You felt like you did not want to be here, you felt like you wanted to leave. The White Light is teaching you that you did not make a good decision. It is helping you look past a physical burden to become stronger. You can become stronger.”

  It was taking all of my will power not to cry, and all of my mental power to deny everything he was saying. There was no way that this was happening to me…without a real reason. There was no way that my entire lower half just stopped.

  Seth couldn’t see the skin on my face scrunch up in agony, but he did know how I was feeling. I came to find that nobody could really hide anything from Seth. He could sense everything.

  “I know this is a difficult time, Sky. But you will get through it. And you will become a stronger being, ready for The Next Life. Look at me. Look at how I overcome my burden. And the spirits took away my eyes very early on in the year.”

  My face froze, knowing this to be completely true.

  “You remember,” Seth smiles slightly. “Halloween time, I believe. I was starting to go blind and lose my vision. Mitchell knew it. He knew it because he warned me. He told me to be careful what I said to the others, because I was seeing things all wrong. Let me tell you something personal.”

  I waited and he paused.

  “I had questions, too. I questioned Mitchell mostly, and his intentions. He told me that I saw things through the wrong eyes, and I needed a different perspective. Then I had a vision of nothing but beauty. It was around then I went blind. And now I can see inside myself and see my Light. It is beautiful, Sky. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Once you become grounded, it will be beautiful too. Trust me. Trust us.”

  He didn’t see me shake my head, but I did it anyway.

  “And Becky,” I said.

  “Yes,” Seth ans
wered. “Becky too. Becky had a wicked tongue. But she is better now. See how happy she is?”

  I let the passing of other students break the moment’s silence we had. I slumped down in my chair and stayed there, wishing nobody would see me.

  ***

  To my fear, my paralysis went on. Mitchell at one point came to me in The Manor with the only practical solution for me to get around on my own: A wheelchair. A god damn wheelchair. I was officially handicapped and now was forced to wheel myself around campus, around all the staring eyes and pointed fingers. It was bad enough I did not have a good explanation for GOL members, who with their wide and concerned eyes knew that this was punishment for something. I had done something wrong, and now I had to suffer for it. Explaining myself outside The Manor would be difficult, too, even though I didn’t talk to anyone else. How could I? By association with the “weird group” on campus I was automatically labeled a pariah and no one wanted to talk to me anyway. It killed me inside. I didn’t know what was going on with me. I didn’t know how to change or control it, and I was clearly not in charge of me.

  I’d climb into that chair every day, and do my everyday tasks, each day silently praying in my head that I needed to get back to normal. I wanted whoever—or whatever—was listening to know that I would do anything it took to get my old body back. It was almost like I was apologizing…although I couldn’t be sure what for. Apologizing for having suspicions with this group? For believing a teacher was taking things too far? But, of course, it wasn’t just him, and even if I did tell anyone about the spirits that controlled the house we lived in, they would not believe anything I said, from the cat to the Ouija board to faces in soup to the writing on the windows. But this was too real, and I needed to play my cards straight. I needed to get back on the spirits’ good side if I was going to survive this.

  Rolling in the snow was, as expected, nearly impossible and a nightmare. Kimberly sort of became my handler at one point and would help me navigate the icy sidewalks.