Awakening Book 2 Chapter 2: Messy

The ground floor lobby bustled with noise, people either hurriedly walking along the hallways or arguing with one another. Some cracks and crumpled pieces were visible in portions of the walls and columns from what Blake could see, but the building still stood strong and people still used it as a medical sanctuary. Blake sat in a not-so-cushioned hospital chair, his mother next to him and the hospital entrance only a few yards away.

Amidst the movement of the people, Blake caught occasional glimpses of June's father, Chris, as he attempted to converse with a nurse at the front desk. A short line of people stood behind him, waiting for their turns. Blake couldn't easily see Chris' face, but his hands moved about rapidly and the nurse's scowl only grew more and more apparent with time.

Blake briefly gazed over at Alisha, but her focus was trained on the groups and pairs of people moving around in the hallways. Her eyelids drooped slightly as she observed the animation of everyone else, her gaze slowly becoming more distant. 

He was only half paying attention when he realized a tall figure approached them. When his eyes focused he realized Chris stood in front of them now. Alisha stood up, slow and with a hefty grunt, before tilting her head to one side as she looked at the man.

"They wouldn't do it?" she simply asked.

Chris shook his head, his frown and eyes gleaned with disappointment. "No. They want to, um, keep her for more observations just in case, and a few more blood draws too."

"I'm so sorry."

"No, no, you don't need to be. It...is what it is."

An uneasy feeling crept up his back, but Blake said nothing out loud. Alisha then held her hand out to Blake, who accepted it as his mother helped him up. Chris led them outside the hospital and towards the parking lot. Every step of his was slow and uneven, but still Blake said nothing.

Eventually the three came upon a large black pickup; Alisha took the front passenger seat, and Blake went for the backseat right behind her. Chris took the driver's seat, turned on the ignition, and left the parking lot.

The ride was a little bumpy, and filled with complete silence. No one spoke, no coughs or sighs or shuffles. No music played, and no radio chattered at all. Blake could not fully describe it in his head, but a certain melancholy covered the air and shrouded the world in a sort of cold silence that could have been suffocating. It was uncomfortable, but strangely soothing at the same time. Blake felt himself sinking further and further into the seat the longer the drive went on.

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The truck crawled to a halt in the driveway. All three of the passengers stepped out once the ignition was off, with Blake heading directly across the lawn to the walkway of the next house over. It had only been a few days in the hospital, but to Blake it felt like months had passed since he was last home.

"Thank you, Chris."

Blake stopped and turned. Alisha had wrapped her arms around June's father in a tight embrace, and held onto him for many seconds. They mumbled a few words to one another that Blake could not hear, but he could see the sorrowful expression on his mother's face while she hugged Chris. The man's entire body tensed up after a few more moments, but he did not push away from Alisha in the slightest. Meanwhile Blake stood in place, silent, letting them have this moment.

Alisha finally unwrapped her arms, exchanged a few more mumbles with Chris, and the two separated. When she walked past Blake, the latter still stared at the man; he drudged towards his own house, his form somewhat slumped and his imbalance apparent. It told Blake everything he needed to know.

By the time Blake caught up to Alisha, she was in the process of unlocking the front door. Her thin fingers had trouble holding and inserting the key, let alone trying to turn it.

"I got it Mom." He stepped forward but she blocked him off with one of her arms.

"I can handle this, sweetie."

Something about her tone threw Blake off for a moment. It also sounded as though she were a little offended by his offer to help? He couldn't tell for sure. But he wasn't about to argue with her and so let her open the door on her own. She pushed it open and walked forward.

And then she halted. "Oh."

Confused, Blake stuck his head under her arms and looked inside. Most of the living room furniture had been shifted slightly from its normal position. The coffee table had in it a huge gash on the top and two of its legs bowed out at an odd angle. Next to the door, a long but not so deep horizontal cut stretched out on the wall before him and his mother. Blake realized in a flash what had happened.

"Were we...robbed?" Alisha gasped. In a matter of seconds she reached for her purse and pulled out a phone.

Blake's heart skipped a beat. In a moment of panic, he pushed his mother further inside the house and closed the door shut behind them. "Please don't call the police!" he begged. "We weren't robbed, I swear!"

Her brows now furrowed and her gaze narrowed, Alisha stared at him. "Then what exactly happened here?"

"Um, well..." He did not know how to best explain the situation, even if it could be stated simply. Then he remembered something he could try, and so he held out his open hand out and forward. With his mother's face right in front of him, and with his thoughts calm and focused, the scythe appeared in his hand in seconds. He grasped the staff the moment it appeared, and stood in the living room while Alisha continued to stare. He wasn't surprised, because now he knew she was one of the only people who could see it.

Alisha looked around the living room, and then back at Blake and his scythe. An understanding look quickly made its way across her face.

"You were practicing with it?" she then asked.

Blake shook his head in response. "Not really. Before I left to go to the hospital, I was...well, attacked by those dark shadowy creatures."

"Shades."

Surprised by her quick correction, Blake asked, "So you know what they are?"

"Yes. And no."

Blake couldn't exactly process what she'd just said. Alisha set down her belongings by the front door and walked over towards the couch, looking it over. "Do you think you could help me reposition this?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sure." He set the scythe against a nearby wall and made his way to the other end of the couch, after which he and his mother pushed the corners around so the pegs once again lined up with the carpet indents.

"What do you mean by that? Yes and no?"

"I only know bits and pieces about what they are," Alisha explained. "I can see both Shades and Lost, not as well as you could."

"Shades. And...Lost?" Blake echoed, bewildered. Once the couch had been correctly repositioned, Alisha moved towards the damaged coffee table, examining it. "You mean the ghostly spirits I keep seeing?"

"If you mean the wandering souls, then yes," she replied.

"I didn't know they were called that. So, what are they exactly?" Blake worked to rearrange some of the other living room furniture, slowly, so he could talk with his mother as long as possible.

"You've seen them. What do you think?"

After a few moments thinking about Alisha question, Blake replied, "Spir...er, Lost are the souls of people who's passed away, but haven't passed on. And, I think, after a while, they become Shades."

"You're only half-right."

Blake froze and looked at his mother with furrowed brows and wide eyes.

"Some people make their own way to the afterlife," Alisha explained. "But others, Lost, remain behind on Earth, unseen by human eye. Most Lost have lingering wills or thoughts, ad that's what keeps them tethered here and unable to pass on."

"And you've seen them?" he asked, realizing he'd not yet thought about that aspect of his mother's capabilities yet.

"I have, but I don't think I can see them as clearly as you can." Alisha leaned away from the coffee table, her neck craned in a way that she stared up at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. "I do always have this sort of gut feeling when a lost spirit is nearby. I sometimes get feelings in my chest too, when the emotions of a Lost are particularly strong."

Blake reflected on his own way of sensing nearby spirits and specters. The tingles along his back, residual pain from injuries, visions and odd smells and and strange tastes...she definitely did not have as strong of a sixth sense as he did.

"But Shades..." Alisha paused, and a frown crossed her face as she looked back down. "...they are different."

Blake nodded; even if he didn't yet know anything he could tell that they acted far differently from the Lost. He'd experienced them enough to know that much for sure.

"Make no mistake though, Shades do have emotions and personalities, just as Lost do." Alisha must have noticed Blake's head jolt upward at this revelation, and so she continued. "But it is not the same. Some Lost may become Shades if their negative emotions overwhelm their very existence. They almost become corrupted of sorts, and transform into something that's not quite resemblant of any person. They might be closer to animals that rely solely on instinct...but, I hate thinking of them that way when they used to be lost souls that were once human."

After a couple moments of thought, Blake nodded his head, slow and solemn. Her explanation did not sit well with him, in part because of a specific memory. The two Lost he encountered outside the park bathroom, and the anger and fury from one of them had been palpable to an unbelievable degree, to the point where it transformed into a Shade right in front of him. He already guessed that the Lost and Shades weren't so different as he'd initially thought, but to hear his mother confirm it in such a confident tone...it practically made him sick to his stomach to see his worries confirmed, especially if it was true.

"So you've known about Lost and Shades for a long time?" he finally asked after some silence.

"I have."

"And you guessed I could at least see them too?"

"I knew you would one day, but you never told me anything."

"But why didn't you tell me anything?"

By now Blake had stepped away from the furniture and had his gaze fixed on his mother. Alisha too no longer focused on the coffee table, but her eyes drifted elsewhere. With her hunched position and drooping eyelids, she had to have been able to tell that Blake was starting to get emotional.

"I was...hoping I'd have more time," she answered at last, her voice quiet. "I'd hoped you'd be able to grow up more, mature, so that when serious danger was coming, you would have more confidence and strength to face it."

What kind of answer was that? Blake let out an exasperated sigh, unable to understand just what all that was supposed to mean.

"Blake, I never thought all this would happen so soon." Alisha finally looked right at him, her expression undeniably revealing her heavy heart. "I didn't know you could see Lost for as long as you have, and I didn't know that Shades were appearing in increasing numbers."

"Mom, I love you, but...I wish you would have told me."

She closed her eyes and lowered her chin. Blake wanted a response from her that he could make sense of, that could explain everything. He wanted to forgive her so badly, he wanted to heal the hurt in his heart, but for some reason she didn't trust him. She wanted him to be better prepared for something, but for what? No, that wasn't the right question. Why should anyone expect a thirteen-year-old to battle corrupted shadow souls and superhumans with an old scythe that belonged to-?

"In the hospital."

Blake trailed off, catching Alisha's attention. She took a small step towards him. But instinctively, he took his own step backwards. She did not approach further, but also did not say anything.

"In the hospital," Blake repeated. "You told me, you told me the scythe didn't belong to you." He turned and observed the curved blade over as it leaned up against the wall, feeling no longer fazed by its sharp and supernatural semblance. When he finally looked back at Alisha, he asked, "Mom. Who does this belong to? Is it...?"

He couldn't finish the sentence, even though he felt he already knew the answer. Alisha meanwhile fell completely silent, but still had this very focused and knowing look in her eye that sent uncomfortable chills up his spine. He did not know why his mother did not immediately answer, but it left him increasingly tense.

"It belonged to your father."

Why did that answer still catch him off-guard? After all, it was a topic he'd not heard about or even thought about in years, but something about it did make sense, confusing as it still was. Blake's father? True, they never talked about him, but Blake had also never thought about why that was.

"It...it did?" was the only response he could give.

"Your father is special, like you," Alisha elaborated. Then she shook her head. "No, maybe even more than you, even if you do take after him a lot."

Blake's brows furrowed. "Is? Don't you mean was?" After all, he'd come to understand his father had passed years ago, but what she just said now made the situation all the more confusing.

But his mother shook her head. "No," she answered simply.

"W-wait, are you saying he's not dead?" he finally asked, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

"He isn't," she told him. "Why would you think that?"

"B-because that's how you made it sound all the time! As a kid you always told me he left, and you looked sad, so I thought...that he died..."

"No, I, I didn't mean that..."

Blake waved his hands around, almost trying to shake off his own bewilderment but to no avail. "Well, if he's alive, then you know where he is, right? We can ask him more about it?"

"I don't know where he is."

He froze. "If...if you don't know where he is, how do you know he's still alive?"

Alisha looked away, lost in thought. Even so there was this sincere glint in her eyes, like she was searching for an answer and trying to grasp at it, but unable to reach it properly.

"A...feeling."

Blake could not believe what he'd just heard. She didn't actually have any evidence that his father, the original owner of the scythe, was still alive? She just had a feeling and that was good enough for her?

"So, you've known about Lost a-and Shades all this time, you can even see them, but you never told me you knew? Because you thought you had to wait until what? I was older? You thought I should wait for danger when it definitely didn't wait for me? A-and now you're saying my dad, who used to have this scythe, is alive but you don't actually have any proof of that? You just feel like he's out there?"

Now the unease settled on Alisha's expression. She looked to be at a complete loss for words, and the confusion and uncertainty rolling throughout Blake's head soon turned to frustration and indignation. How else was he supposed to feel when nothing made sense?

"What else are you hiding from me, Mom?"

Alisha continued to look stumped. She could not even get a single sound out of her throat. The silence from her soon had become too unbearable as he realized his pleas to have answered questions were being ignored.

"I..." Even that word could barely exit his throat. Next thing he knew his own legs briskly walked him towards his room without a second thought. Alisha still said nothing as her son strode away from the conversation. Completely on autopilot now, Blake entered his room, then proceeded to kick the door shut behind him. 

With no lights on the room was dim and gloom, but he didn't care. He sat on his bed, stared at the floor, and mulled over not just what happened, but how much it was starting to affect him.

A tightness wrapped itself around his chest, constricting more and more the longer he stared off into nothingness.