Foul Punch

Chapter 1: Is this a dagger which I see before me?

“’And daily, hourly, the hideous instrument of torture claimed its many victims-old men, young women, tiny children, even until the day it would demand the head of a King and a beautiful young Queen."

I paused to look up at Sophie to check if she was asleep. Her angelic figure was leaned back on the headboard with her eyes closed. I observed her pale, crystalline like skin and admired her wispy blonde hair that resembled an endless waterfall that drifted into a calm, moving river. Her plain white night gown hung loosely on her petite figure and her chest was slowly rising and falling as she rested soundlessly.

“Keep reading.” she mumbled.

I looked down at the wrinkled book and began reading again-- then suddenly Sophie’s door creaked open. She sat up in alarm and then quickly sunk into her bed and turned her body toward the wall. She pulled the covers over her head and looked as if she’d been sleeping all that time.

A dumpy, round woman in white scrubs sauntered into the room. She gasped when she saw me sitting by Sophie’s bed, giving her a perplexed look. “Oh! Excuse me, but visiting hours ended an hour ago!” the woman growled with her hands on her non-existing hips.

I looked at the ID tag that hung from her breast pocket and read her name: Bernice Middleton. That was the woman who Sophie liked to tell me about. The night shift nurse who would never let Sophie stay up passed her bed time or read books to her.

“She doesn’t like old literature.” Sophie said.

I sat straight up from my bad habit of slouching. “Um, I’m sorry, I-I lost track of time and I wanted to read her The Scarlet Pimpernel.”

Ms. Middleton grunted and eyed the sleeping figure under the sheets. She expressed a satisfied look as if she were pleased that Sophie knew her own bedtime. “Well, Sophie is asleep now.” She moved her body away from the door, hinting that it was time for me to leave.

I gulped and got up from the chair. I shoved the book into my leather satchel and before leaving; I leaned down toward Sophie’s head and whispered “Goodnight, Sophie, Happy 17th Birthday.” and left.

I walked through the dimly lit hallways and quickly made my way to the elevator. As I waited for the doors to open, my eyes wandered around the frame of the doors to read the posters that hung around it. There was a poster advertising anger management classes and another for parents of a depressed child. My eyes then scanned over the small metal plaque beside the tall Dracaena plant that read: Rochester Psychiatric Hospital.

Before I could read the contents below, the elevator doors pried open and I was greeted by a mirrored image of myself standing inside the elevator. I stepped though the threshold and the doors slid closed again.

***

I turned down the air condition in my car as I pulled out of the parking garage. It may have been summer, but 10 PM weather was 10 PM weather, which in Belwyn, was quite chilly. But the city was known for its temperamental weather, whereas it could be 45 degrees one day and then 70 degrees the next. But I didn’t mind the wishy washy weather patterns.

That night the moon was out, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway because of the city lights suppressed its luminescence. Sometimes I wished Belwyn wasn’t a big city, but a small tourist town with vineyards and lakes. Sometimes I wished Belwyn was a city where I could really appreciate greener grass and cleaner waters. Sometimes I wished Belwyn was a city where the strangers you met were genuinely sincere. Sometimes I wished Belwyn was a city where the circus would visit. Sometimes I wished Belwyn was a city where the community would have a charity event that truly meant what is was and not a contest for who had the bigger pocket. Sometimes I wished Belwyn was a place where I belonged.

As the arrow light turned green, I rotated my black BMW SUV to the right and hit the gas as I turned the corner. As I was about to accelerate, a man on the sidewalk ran out in front of my car.

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed as I slammed the brakes, hoping to stop my vehicle in time.

But it was too late. I watched his body fall over my hood and slowly slide off of it and onto the concrete ground.

My breathing became shallow and I began to have tunnel vision. I shut my eyes and opened them again, hoping that what I saw was only a hallucination. My hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My whole body began to tremble in fear and I prayed that he wasn’t dead.

My breathing quickened as I turned off the engine and got out of my car to go see the body. His figure was laying flat face down on the ground and his long arms rested above his head. He had a very tall and skinny physique where I thought I could have maybe hauled him into my car and take to the hospital.

I inched closer to the body and crouched down beside him “Oh my gosh, sir, sir, are you okay, I’m so sorry!?”

I hoped he was going to be okay. I hoped he wasn’t dead. But what if he was dead? He couldn’t be dead. I didn’t even hit him that hard. He wasn’t dead. But what if he was dead? What if he had a family? Of course he had a family. What if he was a father? What if he was dead? He couldn’t have been dead. He couldn’t have been dead! What if I had crippled him? What if he was dead? He couldn’t have been dead. This would ruin everything. He couldn’t have been dead. What would happen to me if he was dead? He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t have been dead.

He’s not dead.

“Sir?” I croaked as I leaned closer.

Effortlessly, his body sprang up from the ground and onto his feet. I fell back onto my butt by surprise and let out a gasp. The man crouched down in front of me and pulled out a jagged blade from the inside of his jacket and aimed the tip straight for my neck. I swallowed heavily as I saw the street light glisten down on the knife. I traced my eyes up the man’s arm, shoulder, and finally stopped at his face. All I could see were his eyes-- his deep set, blood shot, and hungry eyes.

“Give me your car keys.” His voice was low and gruff, “And don’t try to scream or I’ll slit your throat.”

I quickly fumbled my keys out of my jean pocket and was about to give it to him when suddenly his chest violently projected forward as if someone kicked him in the back. As he flew forward, his knife slit me on the side of my left arm, leaving a line of red blood forming on the surface of my skin.

Before I could do anything else, someone grabbed a hold of my forearm and yanked me up and pulled me behind them.

“Are you okay?” My savior asked without turning his head.

I nodded my head slowly, but then I forgot he couldn’t see me. “Y-yeah, I’m fine. I just got a small gash, but I’ll be okay.” I looked over at the cut and grimaced at the sight of it.

He slightly turned his head around to look at my arm as if contemplating what to do. He then fully turned around and took off the black bandana that was on his head. He bent down and wrapped it around my upper arm where my wound was and secured it tightly in a perfectly made knot. “This will help stop the bleeding.”

I tried looking at his face to identify who this man was, but the lighting was off and all I could see was the top of his tousled hair.

“Just give me the car keys dammnit!” The knife-man held out his left hand as he glared at me.

What was this guy doing? Any other thief would have run away by now, not sticking around for me to have a chance to call the cops to arrest him.

My savior and I didn’t move a muscle, but I could tell he was ready to fire.

The knife-man began to itch his arm as if he had something crawling under it and his head began to shake left and right.

“Just give them to me!” Then he ran towards us with the knife.

My savior pushed me aside and began to block all the blows the knife-man tried to throw. I watched as the two wrestle and fight as I helplessly stood on the side. My savior deftly punched the knife-man in the face, kneed him in the stomach, and then pushed him onto the ground. The knife-man got up and tripped my savior, sending him tumbling forward, but he caught himself right in time to spin around and kick the one who tripped him.

My mind was having a race with my heart to see which would explode before the other. I tried thinking of what to do to help. “Stop it or I’ll call the cops!” I shouted over the two men fighting.

I began reaching for my cell phone in my back pocket. Then suddenly my savior shouted, “No! Don’t call the cops—just get in your car and leave! Go!”

I furrowed my eyes in confusion and slowly shook my head. “Why not!?”

He grunted as the knife man punched him in the stomach, “Just go!” Then he grabbed the knife man by the collar of his neck and punched him square in the temple, knocking him straight to the ground.

I slowly stepped back and then ran around my car to the driver’s side. I took one last glance at my savior before I got in my car. “Hey!” I shouted.

He turned around.

“Thank you!”

He nodded his head and then I drove away in my car.

***

When I returned home, I saw two unfamiliar and luxurious cars in my driveway. I figured it was some of my parent’s friends coming over for an after party. I groaned in frustration as I pulled into my garage. New guests meant that I had to introduce myself again for the seven billionth time. My mother aimed to please and loved having people come over. For some odd reason my mother always felt inclined to flaunt her new granite kitchen and ‘keep in touch’ with her fraternity sisters. Both my father and I knew that it was to just keep tabs on who had the best whatever.

I dragged myself out of my car and through the house doors. I heard laughter from the living room. I could distinguish my mother’s high pitched laugh and my father’s deep chuckle, but I couldn’t recognize the other voices. I tried thinking of a way to quietly maneuver myself passed the living room and up the stairs with out having anyone notice me. But my plan of not being seen was ruined when, Margaret, our house keeper gasped as she saw me.

“Ms. Annette, what is on your arm?!”

I turned toward her small frame and placed my index finger over my lips. I pulled her to the corner of the room and then began to untie the black bandana. “Here, wash this for me and please do not let my parents see.” I gave her the bloody bandana.

She looked at the cloth in her hand and gave me a confused expression. “Why do you have this and—“She wafted the fabric, “Is this blood?!” She then took a hold of my hurt arm and examined it. “Ms. Annette what happened to you?!”

I moved my body away from her. “I’m fine, I really am!” I lied, I wasn’t fine, my wound stung and I wanted to itch it. “Hey—let me borrow your cardigan!” In case my mother caught me and wanted me to talk to her guests. I wasn’t about to waltz in there with a gash on my arm.

Margaret shook her head and her bouncy white curls went with it. She instantly knew why I asked and shimmied off her black Old Navy cardigan. I quickly put it on. I had to pull up the sleeves due to the slight tightness and I cringed at the fact that I was stretching her cardigan. I promised to get her a new one.

“The Chamberlain’s are here.” She said softly.

The Chamberlain’s were my parents’ good friends and business partners. I’ve met them many times before, so I guess those were two less human interactions I had to encounter.

I tip toed passed the kitchen and then the living room, but suddenly I heard a man’s voice call out my name. I slowly turned around.

My eyes grew wide and my mouth fell agape. I couldn’t believe it was him.

It was Dorian C. Flynn! Dorian C. Flynn was actually in my house! Dorian C. Flynn, the man who always seemed to have swept me off my feet, Dorian C. Flynn, the man who had looks of a God and a mind of an Oxford man.

I stared into his emerald eyes as he began walking towards me. “Hey, Cutie.”

I thought I was going to faint.

“H-Hi Dorian.” I didn’t know what to say—I didn’t know what to do.

He looked at me adoringly as he bent down from his 6’4 stature to hug my 5’7 one. I tried to raise my arms that hung dead in my sockets, but they wouldn’t move. I was too in shock of the fact that he actually wanted to touch me.

He released me and stepped back a little. “Hey, you look great! Man, it’s like I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Yes. Ages. 4 years, 1 month, and 11 days.

“And did you finally learn to cross country ski? I remember the last time I tried teaching you, you spent more time on the ground than on your skies!” He laughed and I wanted to just melt away.

I chuckled, “Yeah, three years in the works and I finally got it down my senior year.”

He smiled at me. “Well, I guess we’ll have to test out your skills this winter. That is if you’re still here.”

I nodded my head, “I will! I’m staying here one more year and then I’m off to study abroad. I’m leaving next June.” I explained.

“Where are you off to?”

“Thailand.”

“Thailand! Wow, that’s really cool. I wish I had the guts to go off somewhere foreign.”

“Yeah and I wish I was smart enough to graduate from MIT!” I said, referring to his academics.

He shrugged and ran a hand through his deep, brown hair. “Nah, it’s whatever! Hey—so my mom is having a charity event this weekend and afterwards we’re having a ‘welcome back’ party for me and I would love for you to come.” Dorian left for college four years ago and I thought I was going to cry. It wasn’t like I had the right to, because he was neither my boyfriend—in my dreams—nor my best friend. He was only my parents’ best friend’s son who only thought of me as a sister.

I smiled and nodded my head eagerly. I hated those types of outings, but since Dorian was asking me—how could I refuse? “I’ll be there!” I said a little too excitedly.

“Oh good! I actually already asked your parents and they said you would, but I just wanted to confirm it with you. I know how much you dislike these types of things.”

The fact that he remembered made me want to swoon all over him again.

Dorian then looked at his wrist watch and formed his lips into a straight line. “I’m sorry, I have to go, but I’ll see you this weekend.”

I slightly down casted my eyes in disappointment, “Oh, okay.” I said, almost whispering.

He reached out his arm and playfully tugged on my side braid. He smiled at me and then left through the front doors.

And in that moment, I completely forgot about the cut in my arm.