Her silence befuddled him. He wasn’t really sure why, or how come. Why would, how she looked or the apparent misery she felt, concern him? He tried to go back to reading, but couldn’t. Something unsettling about her was calling him ask her why. Where did this querying feeling come from?
He slid the magazine back on the table, rose and walked over by her. He asked if he could sit down. No reply. He asked again. She gave a slow nod. He presumed that meant it was okay and immediately sat beside her. For the first few minutes they gazed out the large window at the soundless sights in streets below. Pretty soon his thoughts began to drift back to why she could be so miserable. What happened to her? Was it some incurable illness the doctor told she had? Did it have to do with family? What was it? There were so many questions twirling around in his mind; each jockeying for position. Finally, he just sort of blurted out, “My name is, um, um, its.” He hastily stopped. Damn it, he swore in his head. All he had to do was just say the damn name, but he couldn’t. For some reason it didn’t seem to fit. How weird was that he thought. Is it your name that defines who you are, or is it your actions, thoughts, and feelings? You can write your name down on paper, wear it on a name badge, or have some one call it out in the middle of the night. That’s what bothered him the most; your name does define who you are to others. Without it you’re just a vessel with emotions, witnessed by those around you, but no identity to go with it. So what is in a name; everything! He tried again, “My name is Andrew,” he benignly said. “Andrew Knight.”
“Storm,” her voice finally came out of the shadows. “My name is Storm Higgins.”
“I like your name,” He said, observing her closely. It felt weird. Why would he do something like that? Why would he even care? And yet it seemed as if from his observation he could tell a lot about her. For example, when she talked, he noticed her teeth were well cared for, so it meant that her parents had good insurance. Yet her eye teeth were longer; looking more like fangs. Why would she do that? He quickly shook off the feeling and recovered, and smiled. “How did your parents come up with it?”
“My mom…” Storm sniffed back her tears. Her shoulders sunk and she became withdrawn, not so much as before. “My mom gave birth to me during a really bad snow storm. They couldn’t get to the hospital, so I was born at home.”
He saw that talking about her mom was very upsetting. Something terrible must have happened recently. What could it be? Was her mom in the hospital or something worse?
“Are you okay?” He picked up on Storm’s reluctance when she talked about her mom. He pressed further, “Did something happen to your mom. I mean, well, you can tell me only if you want to.”
“My parents,” Storm paused and exhaled deeply. “My parents and brother were killed recently. I was the only one to live.”
“Was it a car accident?”
“No, they were murdered.” Storm bust out in tears. She covered her face with her hands. He didn’t know what to do. Should he comfort her? Call a nurse?
“Dear Lord,” was all he could say. He simply sat there listening to her cry. He closed his eyes, and a single tear streamed down his cheek. For some weird reason, her pain had now become his pain. Who would murder a mother, father and brother? What kind of person could do that? Was it for money, or revenge, or something else? Why were all of these damn questions flooding his mind? His eyes flashed open; the room seemed to be getting smaller. He couldn’t breathe; it was like there was no air in the room. He suddenly felt very ill and had to get away.
He bolted from the sofa and ran out of the room. He had to find a way to shut up the deafening, swirling noise in his head. But where could he go? That’s when he saw the door marked ‘Roof Observation Room’. He gave the door a shove to open and bolted up the stairs. Once he reached the top of the stairwell, he saw a glass enclosed observation room. It was empty. He closed the door. He grabbed a hold of his head with both hands and roared at the top of his lungs. His screaming ricocheted off the glass and engulfed him like waves crashing on the beach. “Make the questions stop!” He fell to his knees. “Make them stop! What is happening to me?” Images of people he did not know, places he couldn’t recognize and feelings that couldn’t be explained, joined in the menagerie leading to a torturous crescendo. The battle inside of him was too much to bear; it felt like the thunder of a thousand cannons. All of the suppressed memories and feelings that his mind had built up walls to hold back came flooding out. His head was spinning. He felt sick to his stomach. He tried to get up on his feet, but he couldn’t move. He tried to resist with his entire mind and might but he no longer could prevent it. He grabbed a trash can and vomited until his body finally succumbed and he just lay down. The battle was over, but who was the victor?
Only an hour had passed by; just a small click to the hands of the clock in his life. He opened his eyes. The world was different now. Where was he? He glanced around the glass room. Where was he, oh that’s right, the observation room on the roof. He rose to his feet a bit unsteady yet. He walked over to one of the windows. He moved close enough to see his face reflected in the glass. He moved his head from side to side, each time gazing out of the corner of his eye. He was in need of a shave. He bent even closer to the glass. His eyes were still green, although they looked a bit tired. He made his face contort into an overdone grin. He laughed and his face relaxed again. Staring at the face in the glass, he asked, “Who are you?” With his eyes, he met the eyes of the person reflected in the glass. There was no hesitation. No longer did the specter of doubt rear its ugly head. Unlike the dream he had had a night ago, his face was not blank. His lips parted with a slight grin. “I am Andrew Knight.”
Storm was still sitting on the sofa. She saw the man suddenly get up and rush out of the room. She didn’t know why.
Storm was about to get up and go back to her room, when the man reappeared. He seemed different to her. Unlike before, he was smiling. He briskly walked toward her.
Andrew walked back into the sunroom, fortunately Storm was still there. He smiled at her. Andrew walked toward her.
Storm smiled slightly as he stopped in front of her. He sat down again.
“Tell me about your parents,” Andrew started off.
“What do you want to know?” Storm asked. “Why do you want to know?”
“Listen Storm,” Andrew paused and quickly checked to make sure they were alone. “I’m a private investigator and have been hired by Wyatt’s mom to prove he didn’t murder your family.”
“Wyatt would never do that,” Storm blasted back. She quickly calmed down, “Yeah he was excommunicated from the coven, but he wouldn’t. I mean my father didn’t like Wyatt’s lust for blood or the fact that he didn’t respect the laws by the coven.” Storm’s bottom lip began to tremble and she looked away, “But he would never hurt us or me.”
“Did you see the person who attacked your family?” Andrew asked. He grabbed a tissue from the end table and handed it to Storm. She thanked him. Storm dried her eyes. She turned back towards him.
“No, I was shot in the back.” Storm said. “Want to see the scar?” She started to lift her pajama top.”
“No that’s okay,” Andrew motioned for her to stop.
“When I finally woke,” Storm said. “I dragged myself down stairs. That’s when I saw my family…my family was…” Storm broke down. Andrew gingerly put his arms around her, offering comfort. He held onto her for quite some time and could feel her pain with each sob. He was even more determined to find the person who did this.
“Listen Storm,” Andrew said softly. “Just tell me where I can find Wyatt. I know he didn’t attack your family.” Andrew paused for a second. “Wyatt is the key. He is the link to this Night Blade, whom I suspect murdered your family.” Storm thanked Andrew again, and she sat up.
“Wyatt hangs out at a lot at JFK Prep,” Storm informed him.
“Thanks, Storm,” Andrew smiled. She smiled back. Their respective nurses returned and took them back to their rooms. Life had given him his memory back and in the process, he got one up on Sheriff Delsmann. Today was a great day!
The sounds of gentle, rolling waves and ocean breezes enveloped the room. Soft light from candles and their aromatic scents of lavender wafted about in a relaxing splendor. Megan lay in the soothing water with her eyes closed. She loving caressed her growing tummy; reassuring her unborn child that everything was alright. The hospital, more specifically Doctor Straussman, called to inform her that Andrew was being released this afternoon. So she decided to take a relaxing bath and then get dressed. Megan sat up and pulled the drain plug. She stood and reached for a towel. Megan wrapped it around her and she stepped out of the tub.
Megan walked into the bedroom and sat down at the table and mirror. She put on her makeup, touched up
