Recurrence

Stranded in Parallel [Chapter 13]

“Heading off to work!”

I heard those words somewhere amidst my restless sleep. I was just awake enough to hear the door close with a hasty slam down on the ground floor shortly after. When Mom left like that, it was because she was running late.

Part of me wanted more sleep, but the awake part of me desperately needed the bathroom. My legs were heavy as I pulled myself out from under the covers.

Even though it was just a few feet from the door of my room, the walk to the bathroom felt like I was moving through water. I barely kept myself from collapsing as I sat down to relieve myself. The back of my throat ached, and my pajamas were soaked in sweat. While returning to my feet, I felt every ounce of air in my lungs being used.

As I washed my hands, hung over the edge of the sink like a used rag, I couldn’t help but look up at my reflection. My eyes were red and puffy. I recalled the words that I had exchanged with the notebook the night before. I angrily pushed water up into my face and bangs to clear my mind. The sticky feeling of my face reminded me that it had been at least two days since I had showered, maybe more. With one last push of energy, I yanked the clothes off my shoulders, dumping them on the bathroom floor and fumbling for the shower handle behind the crinkled plastic curtain.

The water was just barely warm enough when I finished stripping down and stepping in. I hung onto the molded plastic shelf as the water attempted to stave off the chills running down my body. When standing became too arduous, I descended to my knees, then eventually found myself sitting on the rough pattern of the tub floor.

I don’t know how long I held that position, barely conscious, but when I came back to life, the water had gone cold, sticking my hair all down my goosebump-covered body. After turning the water off and getting my joints to work again, I dragged myself to my bed, wrapped only in a towel. It was all I could do to drag the wrinkled comforter back over myself, sloughing the damp hair off my face.

As my shivers subsided, I could only think about how alone I was. Calling Mom at work would only cause her more stress. There had been a handful of times when Dad had taken care of me when she was at work on a weekend. I faintly wondered where he was or what he was doing at that moment, if his freedom was treating him well.

My hand made its way into a ball as I remembered what Ohanzee had written the night before. That my condition was his fault. That it was despicable that he had left. The very thought of those words made me want to rip up the notebook and cease all communication with my otherworldly stranger.

I forced myself up, towel hanging down on my body. Perched on the edge of my bed, I glanced about the floor for where I had thrown it the night before. I found it leaning against the base of my dresser. After straining to pick it up, I slumped back on the comforter, allowing it to sit in front of me, awaiting its fate.

The wrinkled tips of my fingers pushed through the pages, bringing me back to Ohanzee’s fresh words. His dark cursive letters dug into the pages like dark crevices, leading me into his world. My blocky, penciled-in letters looked out of place. I gritted my teeth as I reached the last of the pages we had used. Of course, I hadn’t responded to his accusations. The words laced with hatred and criticism, written in frantic strokes.

I dared just enough to glance over the words that he had thrown my way, but a sudden shift in the lettering caught my eye. On the page there were words that I had yet to read.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry……

You probably won’t read this immediately. I understand. If… our connection ceases before you dare to allow me back into your world, then know that I am sorry.

There is also much history with the pale… white skinned people in my world. The coastal peoples of this land have had contact with them for over a hundred years. Perhaps more. But we have resisted much of their intrusion here. Alas, they still make themselves apparent from time to time.

I grew up on the shores of the great freshwater seas to the east. The white skinned people come down the waters on their boats to explore and trade with us. They only have a vague sense of respect for our lands and people, and they seem to have no concept of Elohi in the ways we experience it. Their own technologies are strange and unnatural, and yet terribly effective. Vehicles, weapons, tools. But that is not their worst aspect. It is the energies they carry with them within their bodies.

When I was a child, one of their parties came to our land. Many people in my community fell sick soon after. Many collapsed, their bodies losing the energy to move or breathe. Many died. My parents included. The white skinned visitors felt no remorse and offered no aid, leaving before the worst of it. Those of us who survived it… never returned to full health. The sickness took from me my ease of breathing and the strength of my body.

I came to this academy to study the healing aspects of Elohi. To prevent others from suffering the same sickness. Perhaps to heal myself in the process. I do not know. If… you find yourself able to accept my words again, then perhaps… I can share with you more that I know. Perhaps even knowledge concerning powers of healing.

Tears filled my eyes as I read the response over and over. With the remainder of my strength, I dug around in my rumpled covers for my dull pencil. The lead danced around the paper as I forced out a response.

“I’m here.

Help me.

I will do anything.”