If you are new to the Reluctant Psychic series, this chapter will not make much sense, if any, without the context of the previous chapters.
For those of you who are returning to the series, thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy the story.
* * *
I was afloat in a sea of light. I readied myself to be pulled back to my body in a vertigo inducing moment. But I kept floating. The crisp whiteness of the light started to fade into the sullied color of old snow. As the intensity of the light faded, so did the feeling of weightlessness.
The light grays turned to dark grays, and I felt pressure surrounding me. I couldn't say on what part of my body the pressure pushed, because I couldn't even tell if I had a body. In this formless gray on gray world, there was no anchor of reality, only unbalanced forces pulling and twisting me.
I tried to concentrate on one streak of gray that appeared darker than the others. But as I watched it seemed to become a lighter gray, or perhaps the surrounding grays got darker. I couldn't tell if I was even looking at the same streak of gray as they moved around, or perhaps I was moving.
Why couldn't I get back to my body? My mind went in circles chasing after the answer, but it was as elusive as the streaks of gray that faded through each other in this strange place. How did I even get to this strange place?
Anna's room, I recalled. I was talking to her, remembering our first meeting. No, it was after that that the light consumed me. Anna said, "Then listen to your conscience. Go back to your girls, they need you. Raise your sons and daughters to be strong of body and conscience." That was when the light began.
I noticed a streak of red standing out starkly from the sea of grays. My senses latched on to it, only to have it skitter away. Or did the whole world go red long enough to let the streak dissolve into obscurity. Was the color a figment of my imagination, was this whole world a construct of my mind?
"Of course, it is" a voice whispered. The sound resonated my entire being.
If it's in my mind, then I should be able to stop it. I should be able to wake up from the coma. I thought back to the classes I had taken, everything I learned when Anna fell into her coma. A hysterical coma happens when the mind can't adapt to an event or situation. It is a protective mechanism where the subconscious tries to sort everything out.
But I had sorted things out. Anna helped me realize I had to go back to the girls. I could raise my children to use their powers for good purposes. They wouldn't have to be like me. Once I realized that Anna's room began fading away. So I should be back in my body by now.
The world turned an angry shade of black as I remembered what Anna asked me moments before the light took me away from her. She wanted to die. The sky turned darker still as another thought occurred to me: the only way she could leave me was through death.
She didn't want to die, she just wanted to be done with me, leave me alone in the world.
"You aren't alone in the world, only in here," another voice said.
"Anna?" I asked the formlessness.
"She loves you still," a voice called from the distance.
"Who are you?" I cried out. The void refused to answer.
I was on the verge of cursing the interminable silence when I finally heard, "Do you love her?"
"More than life itself!" I cried.
"Her life or your own?" The voice asked. I felt like a particular dense child being lead to an answer that was obvious to everyone except him. The obviousness of the answer was all the more vexing for being out of reach.
"Speak clearly! Who are you?"
"Who are you?" the voice asked, very clearly.
"I know who I am," I said, wishing I had arms that I could cross over a chest I also wished to possess.
The voice left me alone and quite confused. Of course, I'd meant my own life. What sense would it make to love Anna more than her life? How could I love her if she were dead?
How could I love her in a coma? How could I love a voice in my head, a voice that might not even be Anna?
The pressure began to ease, and I felt myself floating again. I was at the bottom of an ocean, and the salty water was pushing against me, slowly squeezing me towards the surface. As I ascended, I became aware.
* * *
"Tell the angel who will watch over your life to pray now and then for a man who, like Satan, believed himself for an instant to be equal to God, but who realized in all humility that supreme power and wisdom are in the hands of God alone," I heard Gwen voice say.
"Am I really like Satan?" I asked, or tried to ask through a parched throat.
"You're awake!" she exclaimed as she hurried to my bedside. I tried to reach out my hand, but my arms felt strangely heavy and stiff. She grasped my hand, and a moment later I felt my other hand being clasped as well. I looked over to see Betsy standing on the other side of my bed, tears streaming down her face.
"I was so afraid I'd lose you too," she thought. I realized that I read her more clearly that I ever had before. I also felt her intense fear of being left alone, as she'd been reliving the horror of her father's coma.
I tried again to speak, but my throat was much too dry. Instead, I clasped her hand and sent my thoughts, "I'm so sorry that I frightened you." As I looked at her, and then Gwen, and saw the depth of their relief I wondered, "How long have I been out?"
"It's been more than a week," Betsy said simply. She squeezed my hand then bent down to give me a kiss. "I have to call the others, Gwen will fill you in." Betsy hurried from the room, and I knew she needed time to compose herself as much as anything.
