I pray if anyone else reads this journal, captor or friend or myself: please know, I have nothing to give except my thoughts. But I want everything from this world.
I want a home. I want a family. I want to grow old with my Dymeka. I want to die in peace knowing Dymeka and I led the best possible life we could.
To my captor, I say this: please, leave us be.
To my friend: please, understand me.
Chapter 31
Charles
Anthony stood at Jasmine’s bedside when I came out of the elevator. He held my sister’s wrist while staring down at his watch. Then he put on his stethoscope and placed the circular end over each one of her lungs to listen to her breathing. It was all part of his routine. It didn’t matter that the results were always the same. Anthony still made sure Jasmine returned from the land of the dead in the same condition she’d been in when she’d left.
And my heart still knocked incessantly against my ribs as if it were the first time Jasmine had died. Fear and anger still motivated me to race home from school after a vision, charge into the precinct, and make sure my sister was all right.
I skidded to a stop on the other side of her bed, panting. “Is she okay? Did she say anything after she came back?”
“She’s fine now, Charlie. Just resting.” The doctor, who had been with us for almost twelve years, removed his stethoscope and draped it around his shoulders. Like always. But this time there was a shadow across his face. Something was bothering him.
“What?” I asked.
“She was talking about the case before she passed out. Your uncle stopped by,” Anthony added before I could ask. “I relayed this information to him already. It sounded like Jazz might’ve been onto something important. A theory that could help. She wasn’t making much sense to me in the end, but when I told Victor everything she’d said, he seemed excited.” He nodded at the leather-bound book on my sister’s desk. “He wouldn’t take that vital piece of evidence with him. He said it wasn’t for him. It was…strange.”
I glanced at the journal, feeling like it was a bomb just waiting to go off. “This whole case has been weird as hell. I can’t wait for it to be over.”
“She was cursing Death when she woke up. It was the most lucid I’ve ever seen her after a revival.” Anthony rubbed his forehead and gave a little sigh. “I feel like such an outsider, Charlie. I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Trust me; you don’t want to know.” I pulled up Jasmine’s rolling chair and dropped into it. “Thanks for taking care of her.”
“I do want to know.” Anthony turned to me, folding his arms. It wasn’t an intimidating stance, but more of a sign that he was willing to wait there patiently while I spilled my guts.
I glanced at the alarm clock sitting beside my sister’s bed. “Aren’t you off in, like, an hour?”
“It’s fine. I don’t have plans for tonight.” He said it with a tight smile and forced levity.
I didn’t want to ask but I knew Jasmine would chew me out if I didn’t. “Is everything okay at home?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
It wasn’t convincing. But, hey, I asked. I was off the hook. So I filled him in on the case. Anthony nodded occasionally and knitted his brow, but didn’t comment until the very end.
“After all these years, you found another couple cursed by Death. It’s mind boggling.” Anthony took off his glasses and cleaned them with his sleeve. He looked older to me all of a sudden; the circles under his eyes more visible now without the wire rims.
He went home early last night. Hadn’t he slept at all? I shrugged the thought away. It wasn’t my business.
“It looked like the contents of the journal might’ve helped your sister come up with her theory. Although, she gave me credit for cracking this case before she died.” The doctor shook his head. “I wish she’d wake up so she could explain herself.”
That was out of character for him. Anthony cared more about how Jasmine felt and what she needed to make a full recovery than his own needs. Jasmine had confused him in the past with her pre-death and post-revival babble, but even if he’d been anxious to disturb her precious sleep so she could answer his questions, he’d never said it out loud.
I swiveled away from my sister to study the doctor more closely. His clothes were just as immaculate as ever; his curly brown hair was styled. He looked like the same old Anthony, but then there were the stress lines on his face and the restless tapping of his fingers against his thigh and the way he stared at Jasmine as if she held the key to his happiness. Now I wanted Jazz to wake up so she could put the poor guy out of his misery.
She just kept on snoozing.
Anthony resorted to pacing after five minutes of intense staring. I found my gaze drawn to the diary while I waited. Whatever my sister had read in here had led to a breakthrough, according to the doctor. I could find my uncle and ask him if that was true, but I didn’t want to leave Jasmine. Plus, Uncle Victor was giving me the silent treatment again; I didn’t feel like having him explain everything through Vanessa Burkley. If they were even still talking. After their almost kiss last night, I doubted they were acting like nothing had happened.
When I got home last night, my uncle had been waiting for me on the couch. He’d quietly expressed his worry and disappointment, like always, and then threatened to confine me to the apartment if I ever left without telling him again. He’d conveniently forgotten to ask if I’d overheard
