Eternal Soul

by Amy Henwood

  “Are you a serial killer?” I blurted out and leaned away to create separation.

  He laughed from the gut. “What would possess you to think that?”

  “You don't care that I am wasting your time, and you keep telling us that we are not an inconvenience to you. Only a true serial killer is this patient with their next victim. Taking the time to build trust, then I would willingly go on a deep woods hike with you and never return. You slitting my throat with a dull blade, waiting for me to bleed out the jugular. Metallic blood soaking my feared body. My remains axed and buried within the forest grounds in several unmarked places. My limbs never to be found. My picture placed on the side of a milk container and my death treated as an unsolved disappearance.”

  “My preferred method is several stab wounds. Takes longer to bleed out.”

  I laughed as he played along with my crazy theory. “For my sake, I beg, please make it quick.”

  “I am the last person that would ever think of hurting you. Trust me,” he said with a large grin.

  “That’s what mass murderers say to lure their victims.”

  “Good point. How about: your friend Mia is very persuasive, and I know that she would not leave you in the care of a potential killer. She threw some threats my way while you were blacked out on the snow.”

  “That would be Mia.” I carried on through the remainder of the forms. Medical history: nothing pertaining to my fall. Allergies: none. Medication used within the last six months: none.

  I attached the pen to the top of the clipboard and set it upside down on my lap—a habit I had formed after completing countless tests and exams: turning my work over.

  “Finished?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He took the clipboard back to the registration desk and placed it on the ledge. He and the nurse exchanged some quiet words that I couldn’t hear. I tried not to stare when he came back. His movements flowed with precision and definition, his body perfectly portioned.

  “How is your knee doing?” he asked on the return approach.

  “Crappy.” There was no use lying and playing the all cool, tough-girl character.

  “You will be seeing a doctor in no time.”

  I scanned the emergency room. There were children who would take priority over me, and a man with his hand wrapped in a blood-soaked cloth. It could use replacing, as his blood would soon drip onto the floor, adding another colour to the already multi-stained tile. There were not many other people, but based on order of need, surely I would be the last one seen.

  “Tell me, Scarlett, what brings you to the town of Darlington for advancing your education?” he asked interestedly.

  “Location. I applied and was accepted at Brown and Riverhead as well, but Brown is located in a large city and I am not a city girl, and Riverhead is a long hike from home. Darlington is in a smaller community than Brown but boasts enough amenities to keep me occupied. If I ever do choose to travel home for a weekend or holiday, it is not a great distance for my parents to pick me up and bring me back.”

  “Logical,” he said. “Do you like it here?”

  “I do. I have nothing to complain about. What do you invest in? For your job and stuff?” My investment knowledge was less than minimal.

  “Stocks, mostly. People trust me with their money and I try to turn a profit for them.”

  “That’s a fair bit of responsibility to have.”

  “Yes, but I’m good at it. If I wasn’t, no one would trust me with their life savings.”

  Modest. “I suppose you’re right,” I said.

  “Those were quite the moves you were pulling off on the hill today.”

  “You were watching me?” I was shocked that I had an audience. I thought no one watched me. I just watched everyone else.

  “Not on purpose. You were dead ahead of me. Hard not to observe.”

  “Those were nothing. Mia is the real professional. I can only pull off the basics, but she does the pro level moves.”

  “Basic but perfectly executed in form and technique.”

  Rose flushed my cheeks, increasing in invisible temperature.

  “Wish the same could be said for the side flip.”

  “Your launch was good, but you over-rotated on the landing, causing you to lose your footing when connecting with the ground. It was almost perfect for your first attempt.”

  “How would you know that was the first time I tried it?”

  “Oh, well—”

  I gazed at him, studying closely. Déjà vu struck me. The black specks embedded in his aqua eyes; I had stared into those eyes before. A defined scar on his forearm was partially hidden by the rolled sleeves of his shirt, but I knew it was there before spotting the tail of it. The way the corner of his lips peaked when he spoke, I had run my fingers around the crests before. And his voice—I knew that voice.

  “Have we met?”

  “Yes, I am Jackson. We met after you fell on the skill hill. I’m going to suggest the doctor check your head. You seem to be experiencing some memory loss.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean, have we met prior to today? You look unbelievably familiar.”

  “Maybe I remind you of someone from your past.”

  “How did that happen?” Taking my finger, I ran it along the length of the scar, not comprehending what I was doing until I separated the contact. He didn’t flinch at the touch, nor discourage the action.

  “BMX biking. Fell riding a rail. My arm got caught between my bike and the railing, breaking my ulna. Took five screws to piece it back together.”

  “Wow. You are making my knee sound like child’s play, literally.”

  “Injured ligaments are nothing to joke about either. It is much easier to immobilize an arm than a knee. There are increased chances of turning the wrong way and slowing down the healing process when you cannot entirely restrict it.”

  As we spoke, the sibling of a sick child wandered carelessly around the waiting room, his parents not giving a damn about it and instead focusing all their attention on their younger child. The wandering child was not paying attention to his surroundings; luckily, I was, but unfortunately, I didn’t possess any reaction time.

  The child plowed square into my helpless extended leg. I gasped while biting my lower lip, almost to the extent of drawing a vial of blood in hopes it would prevent me from screaming in pain. Bullet shot shards of medieval torture ripped through me, as my leg twisted from the blunt impact.

  Jackson immediately relocated himself to the floor and cradled my leg, applying pressure above and below my knee, trying to minimize the throb. Jolts of pain hit with each pump of blood from my heart. He raised his head, bringing my attention away from the leg. I locked my focus on him, concentrating on his face. The pain began to subside when I stared at his precious features.

  “Better?” he asked.

  I nodded. “How did you do that?”

  “It had nothing to do with me. You targeted your attention on something other than the pain and alleviated it yourself.”

  He steadily positioned my legs across the row of chairs, lifting them to sit on top of his uncrossed legs. The elevation assisted in taking the edge off the pain, but only in tiny amounts.

  “Scarlett?” A woman’s voice called out my name.

  Jackson had his hand raised upright before I was able to acknowledge my name being called. He lifted me in the same manner as he had done before.

  * * *

  I entered our rental on crutches with Jackson following closely behind. It was a slow-moving process as it was my first experience using such a horrific device.

  “Hey, you.” I was shocked, in a good way, to see Mia the instant I walked in.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked her.

  “When I told Ryan what happened—” Simultaneously, Ryan’s head appeared around the corner of the hallway leading to our bedrooms and single shared bathroom.

  “Hey Ryan,” I said before letting Mia continue.<
br />
  “—he felt horrible that I left you stranded at the hospital just so he and I could go out. We hit up McDonald’s and came back to wait. It didn't feel right letting you come home to an empty house and having to fend for yourself, especially not knowing what condition you would be in.”

  “If I have not told you before, you are the best friend anyone could have.”

  “I know,” she said, sharing the same quality of modesty as Jackson. “What is the final verdict from the doctor?”

  “As Jackson predicted, a torn meniscus. The doctor told me to R.I.C.E. it.”

  “Rest, ice, compression, elevation?” she questioned herself on her first aid training memory.

  “Yep,” I confirmed.

  “Any medication?”

  “Tylenol threes for the pain and extra strength ibuprofen for the swelling.”

  “Got it.” She was making sure she had all the Cole’s notes for my proper care. “Now off to bed and get that foot up.” Flipping to mother mode.

  Jackson assisted me onto my unmade, sheet-tangled bed. I was embarrassed by the disastrous state of my room, but having a male coming over to put to me to bed had not crossed my mind when I had left yesterday. Mia brought additional pillows to prop my leg and ice cubes in a sealed bag, wrapped in a kitchen towel.

  “I hope you start to feel better soon,” Jackson said. “I best be heading off now.”

  “Thank you again for everything,” I said.

  “My pleasure.”

  He got up and left, and as soon as the front door sealed shut, Mia said, “He’s cute.”

  “Yes, you have mentioned that once or twice today.”

  “Oh, I know. I’m just reminding us.”

  Jackson was attractive, cute—well, gorgeous, but I needed to rest and hold off on beautiful boy conversations with Mia.

  “Would you mind getting me a glass of water?” I asked, avoiding the cute-boy topic.

  “Of course not.”

  She placed it on my bedside table and readjusted my pillows before leaving me for Ryan.

  I tried pulling back, but my mind kept drifting on a paddleless raft to Jackson, preventing me from sleeping. I am with Chase, I reminded myself over and over. Who I was going to have to call and explain what happened. Then it crossed me. He was expecting to pick Mia and me up at the ski hill.

  9

  Still dressed in my ski clothes, my arms begged for air outside of the insulated fabric. The bag of ice had melted and slipped off my knee, and I was thankful for the tightly sealed bag keeping the liquid contained. I was also thankful for the simple fact it was Saturday, as I was definitely not up for navigating crowded halls with ten minutes prior practice on crutches.

  My door creaked, and Mia stood on the other side.

  “Good morning,” she said. “How did you sleep?”

  “Surprisingly well for my condition.”

  “Good.”

  She adjusted my pillows to sit me upright and fluffed the ones that had become flattened from the weight of my knee overnight. She picked up the melted ice and replaced it with frozen cubes, forming it carefully around my knee.

  “Want any breakfast?” she asked.

  “No thanks.”

  “Okay. I’m leaving shortly to pick up some groceries and such before work; need anything while I’m out?”

  “Toothpaste.”

  “Okay, I’ll pick some up. Also, I’m scheduled for a double shift today, but I can trade off if you want me home.”

  “No, don’t. You have sacrificed enough for me. You have a car payment, gas and insurance to pay for. Work your shift.”

  “Anything I can get for you before I leave?”

  “A clean shirt out of my drawer, and my textbooks. I should get some studying in.”

  Final exams were fast approaching and using my bedridden day to review course material was the best use of my immobile time. The majority of our professors tended to base the bulk of the exams on end-of-semester materials, with only briefly touching topics discussed at the start. I needed to pull off some stellar marks on finals as my term grades had dramatically slipped in the previous month. I guess Mia did have a point about Chase.

  The doorbell sounded late in the morning. Mia had not returned from shopping, leaving me alone to answer the door.

  “I’m coming,” I yelled, though slim chance anyone could hear from my room, down the hall and through the front door.

  With caution, I lifted myself from the bed and supported myself with the hospital-supplied crutches.

  It rang a second time.

  “Hold on,” I shouted, this time directly at the locked, faded-grey front door.

  Finally reaching the handle, I opened it to find Jackson standing on the front porch with multiple brown paper bags printed with red and golden arches and a tray full of disposal drink cups. The aroma of the fast food turned my stomach into a fierce growl.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Morning,” I replied in the surprise of discovering him on my front step.

  “I figured you would be fairly bedridden today, so I brought you some breakfast.”

  “You didn’t have to, but thank you.”

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  “What do you mean—least?” I pulled my lips to the side. “You have already gone over and above just by taking and sitting with me at the hospital.”

  “Well—” Jackson struggled, fumbling for words. “I started the care process for you, I may as well finish it.”

  “Sweet, but completely unnecessary.”

  “Please.”

  I read his pupils. He no longer wanted to stand outside in the morning chill, while my breakfast was getting colder with each passing second. I moved aside to let him in.

  He set the bags of food and tray of drinks on the kitchen counter. Beside them lay a plate covered with plastic wrap enclosing a small assortment of muffins and Danishes. Laid tucked halfway under the plate was a piece of paper.

  Breakfast.

  Eat something.

  -Mia

  “Ah, it appears I have been beaten to the duty,” Jackson said as he saw the note.

  “Typical of her, but you delivered me hot breakfast. Hot food always supersedes overnight counter food.”

  I rested my leg on the kitchen chair beside me, sitting strangely sideways at the table.

  “I wasn’t sure of your morning drink preference, so I got apple juice, orange juice, coffee and tea,” he said, offering me a selection.

  “Coffee, please.”

  He released the steaming cup from the dust-coloured tray and pulled out small packets of sugar, cream, milk and stir sticks to adjust the black coffee to my liking. He reached into another bag, pulling out two muffins with packs of butter and plastic knives, placing them onto the newly emptied bags as disposable plates. From the final bag, he retrieved two hash browns and two breakfast sandwiches. I unwrapped mine, revealing eggs and bacon on a bagel; his was sausage and eggs on an English muffin.

  “I hope that is okay for you.”

  “It’s perfect. Actually, it is my favourite breakfast sandwich combo.”

  “Oh good, I couldn't remember what you liked.” Again, he stopped talking abruptly.

  “Pardon?”

  “I said ‘good’.”

  “No, after that—about what I like.”

  “I meant to say that I didn’t know what you liked.”

  “No, that’s not what you said. We have met before. Haven’t we?”

  “I don’t know what you're talking about, Scarlett.”

  “Yes, you do. That is the second time you have caught your tongue and words with me. First with knowledge of my first side-flip attempt and now knowing what I like for breakfast. Tell me the truth. Tell me how you know me.”

  His lips parted, about to speak, with me hoping he was going to tell me the truth, when a thunderous bang at the door startled me, but surprisingly didn’t cause a single flinch on Jackson.

  “Sc
arlett! Open this door right now!” a raging Chase yelled, parted by walls.

  “I have to leave.” Jackson promptly rose. I began to slowly rise as well. “No.” He motioned his hand in a downward position. “Stay there.”

  “Yeah. You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I snubbed.

  “Scarlett! Open! Now!” Chase continued yelling at the locked door.

  Jackson deserted me to open the door to expose a fulminated Chase. The two exchanged death glares with one another.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Chase cursed at Jackson.

  “Being a good citizen and taking care of Scarlett.”

  “You lay a single finger on her and you’ll pay for it. I can guarantee that,” Chase said as he burst past Jackson into my house.

  Jackson chuckled. “Yeah, we will see about that.” Then he was gone, leaving without a trace except for the untouched food.

  “What the hell, Scarlett? I leave you alone for one afternoon and this happens?”

  “Hi to you, too,” I snapped back. “I injured my knee. It was an accident. Those tend to happen from time to time.”

  “I’m not talking about your knee. I ran into Mia in town, and she told me what happened. You were supposed to call me to pick you up, but instead, you go get yourself injured.”

  “I already told you; it was an accident.”

  “Doing moves beyond your skiing ability is not an accident.”

  “And how would you know what I can and cannot do on skis? You don’t even ski.” Or does he? I really didn’t know much about him.

  “Mia told me everything,” he said. “Including going to the hospital with him.”

  “I wasn’t thinking straight. All I wanted was to get off the damn hill. And why do you keep saying ‘him’ like it’s a bad thing? He has a name, and he is just a friend checking up on me.”

  “Bullshit! I never want him around you again. Do I make myself clear?”

  “And who is going to stop me?” I challenged.

  “I will make sure of it. Trust me, you don’t want to test my abilities.”

  “You cannot order me around and dictate my social life. Please, enrich me on why I cannot see him.”

  “He’s not a good person.”

  “And how would you know that? He took care of me yesterday from the moment I crashed, including getting me to and from the hospital.”