Soulkeeper

Chapter Three : I'm losing my mind.

"Alright, alright, is everyone ready to begin the riveting lesson I have planned for today." Antonio announces while rolling his r's and directing everyone's attention on himself. I quickly took the last seat in the front.

Antonio is one of those super down to earth unconventional teachers. Certainly, gifted in a literary sense, but rather than demanding authority, he takes a casual approach by insisting everyone call him by his first name. His Italian heritage attributed to many of his gifts. The most obvious; his voice. Whether speaking English or Italian, it glides through the air smoother than butter and sends chills down my spine. Hell, he could recite a poem about cow shit and have everyone's heart racing. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration, but still seriously gifted, seriously attractive, and might I add, seriously magnificent to have as a teacher.

Gliding to the front of his simple white top desk supported by sleek stainless-steel legs, Antonio pulled up a blue plastic chair. He leaned back and scooted on to the edge of his desk, placed his right foot in the chair, while the left dangled parallel to the front of the desk. This very casual teaching position was his go-to for intimate discussions with the class. Rolling up the sleeves on his mock pheasant, loose fitting cotton shirt with felt brown tie strings resting below the dip of his neck, he carefully extracted a cell phone from the back pocket on his light brown slacks. Stretching his phone out in front of him he leans into the class. Placing his elbow firmly on the leg supported by the chair he peered out to the class through his thick scruffy hair.

Shifting the once lighthearted tone to a more serious note, he addressed the class, "As you might have seen on the news this morning, our community suffered yet another tragedy."

Shaking his head in disbelief he read the news report from the smart phone screen, "Yesterday evening our community lost a hard-diligent working man to yet another equipment malfunction at the work site of Log Castle Incorporated. This is the second man to have died in what seems to be a very preventable tragedy. Steve Ackers suffered fatal blunt force trauma to the head by an alleged out of control crane." I could feel my expression fade to a cold pale as he continued to read, "Two other men were injured in the incident, but are being treating with the expectation of a full recovery. The Ackers family, which consists of grieving widow, Alice and her two twin daughters Pricilla and Patricia, have begun funeral arrangements. The family appreciates the support of the community but wishes to keep their affairs as private as possible during this difficult time." Using his thumb, Antonio swiped upward on his phone to project an image of Steve on the classroom smart board.

Totally zoning out on Antonio, I begin to study the image of this man. I know him. He feels familiar, but from where? I have the overwhelming sensation that I know this man, but in a different way. In the image he looks happy and bursting with energy. His bright blue eyes contrast against his rosy plump checks. His jaw and chin are masked with a tasteful amount of facial hair. He looked like a honest young man who was full of life. Why do I have such a cold icy feeling crawling under my skin? I begin scanning my memory to see where I can place him... Was it at the store? Maybe at a parent function? Perhaps he was Garvey's friend? None of those feel right. My head spinning with the rapid thoughts going off, I decide I need to leave the room as soon as possible to get some fresh air.

"So, as you can see, this is to further develop your understanding when writing from a character's perspective. In writing you want to dig deep to relate and embody your character's emotions. Feel what they feel. To do that, and to honor a member of our community who has tragically passed too soon, you will be writing something from a family member's perspective as if their loved one was tragically taken too soon. Perhaps you can draw from your own life experiences. I am only asking for one page, but that one page must be filled with emotion!" Antonio pushed the blue chair out from his right foot and swiftly stood straight up. He peered out to each student and prepared to command the class. His muscular raised forearms stopped his sleeves from sliding up to his shoulders as he reached up to give two loud, but graceful claps. While whisking around to behind his desk he announced with full voice, "Get to work!"

Taking advantage of my first opportunity, I slowly stand up, step out of my desk and steady myself. Once I am confident my legs are functioning, I make my way to the front of Antonio's desk. Antonio beamed up at me with his romantic Italian eyes, "How may I assist you Ms. Alex?"

"Errm... Can I... I mean... May I be excused to go to the restroom?" My voice is trembling despite my best efforts at obtaining composure. Why is this image of this poor man affecting me?

With a peculiar look, Antonio expressed concern in his voice, "Of course you may. Is there anything else I can do to assist you?" Placing an emphasis on 'anything else' he raises a bushy yet well shaped eyebrow in await for my response.

Ready to run from the room I quickly respond, "No, that will be all. Thank you. I will return shortly."

Attempting to not bolt to the door, I play it cool by taking in a deep breath of stale air as I glide through the doorway into the vacant hall. With the realization that I now have freedom from any glaring eyes, the flood gates release my panic. In that moment, I knew. I knew why Steve Ackers was so familiar. I rush down the hall as warm tears of confusion spill over my eyes and down my cold pale face. I escape to the first empty room secluded from any other classrooms or lockers.

Once safely inside I am comforted by the darkness and bear my weight against the wall to the right of the doorway. Leaning deeper into my safe corner, I pressed my trembling hands on the cement block wall in front of me. Tracing the bumps and groves of the block, I try to breathe but my mind continues to lose control. My goat brain floods my thoughts. What the hell? Why is this happening to me? How is this possible? Why couldn't I just be normal? The questions swirl around my mind as a ship at sea in the midst of a storm. With each question I am battered with several emotions, fear, uncertainty, and confusion.

The realization that Steve Ackers was one of the many 'beings' in my nightmares. Steve's glowing presence from the image was far from the man who I saw last night. When I woke up it was hard to remember, but now, I see it clearly. Last night, he was pale, slightly transparent with no color in his cheeks. His sunken face was tainted with deep hard shadows under his cheek bones and eyes. His eyes. I shuttered just remembering staring into the empty white nothingness of his pupils. How could the man, obviously dead, that I saw last night be the same man on the smart board? Why was he in my dream? Did my subconscious know he was dead?

With each question my heart races and my breath quickens as I lose control and dive into the full throws of a panic attack. Continuously gasping for air, I use my free hand to clutch my abdomen. I desperately want to scream. A deep truth rings in my ears as I am pushed over the edge. I just want to be a normal girl with a normal mother and father. I don't want to live with Grant Harvey. I don't want to live not knowing who I am. Who am I? Nothing. I am just a freak that has nightmares and no family. Great. My vision blacks out as my mind races. My body trembles with each gasp for air that shakes the vast river of tears off my chin line to escape down my neck.

Stop this! Someone will see you! Then you really will be a freak then! My endless banter batters against my mind deepening my entranced panic.

The caress of a large but warm hand on the small of my back stills my body as I hold my breath. Who the hell is touching me? Part of me is afraid to turn around, but the other part of me wonders if it is even real.