The Angel Contract

Chapter Six: Mr. Crandall

After parting ways with Tristan, I found myself intercepted by Miss Patty as I made my way back from the courtyard. "I never thought I would see the day, but you have another visitor," she said cryptically, leaving me puzzled and slightly apprehensive.

Returning indoors, I spotted a man seated on the oversized brown couch. Pausing in the doorway, I took in his appearance: his hair resembled swirly white cotton candy, and he sported an outdated plaid suit, his wire-framed glasses shifting nervously as he smiled at me. With a deep breath, I approached and took a seat, clasping my hands in my lap to ward off the chill of the air conditioning. For several moments, he simply smiled, uncertain of where to start. Sensing his hesitation, I took the lead. "They say you came to visit me. Why? Who are you?"

"So it's true. You don't remember anything?" he asked, to which I shook my head, unsure. In my peripheral vision, I noticed Jake—now known to me as Evan—an angel, tending to Mrs. Rivers. His nod reassured me silently. "Yes, it's true. I have no memory of my past. Please, answer my question. Who are you?"

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Bernard Crandall," he spoke with a light English accent, his gaze lowering as he mentioned the accident that led to my confinement, sending my heart racing. Yet, a lingering doubt clouded my mind regarding his intentions. Despite this, I reached out and gently clasped his hand, seeking reassurance in his presence.

"What do you mean? You know who I am? I've been confined here for years, and you only find me now?" I questioned, my voice tinged with frustration and confusion.

As Mr. Crandall shifted closer, his voice dropped to a whisper, enveloping me in a shroud of secrecy. "Lucky, I know what you are. The timing wasn't right. You were safe here. Safe from them," he confided, his words sparking a flicker of recognition within me, yet leaving me with more questions than answers.

My brow furrowed at the mention of "them." What was everyone talking about? Was it really good timing now? Mr. Crandall produced a photograph from his pocket, depicting us together in a bygone era, unmistakably not of this time. As I examined it, the banner in the background read "Happy New Years 1926." Mr. Crandall and I seemed unchanged by time.

"I will tell them I am family. That I am your uncle Bernard and that you have been lost to us after the accident. We need to get you out of here. I have other pictures as proof that we know each other. You have to say you remember," Mr. Crandall's words dripped with urgency as he emphasized the need for my liberation.

"Any pictures from this time?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued as I sought tangible evidence to corroborate Mr. Crandall's claims.

Mr. Crandall nodded solemnly, his gaze momentarily distant as he acknowledged my request. With a subtle movement, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a photograph, its edges worn from years of careful preservation. As he handed it to me, I felt a surge of anticipation, eager to glimpse a glimpse of my forgotten past.

"See for yourself," Mr. Crandall urged gently, his voice laced with a sense of urgency. As I absorbed the significance of the photograph, a wave of emotion washed over me, mingling with the uncertainty that still lingered in the depths of my mind. Yet, in that fleeting moment, I felt a glimmer of hope, a beacon guiding me towards the truth that lay hidden within the recesses of my memory.

I nodded eagerly, the prospect of freedom from the asylum outweighing any doubts. A smile shared between us momentarily lifted the weight of uncertainty, granting a fleeting sense of sanity. But amidst the relief, a nagging question persisted. "I am an angel, right?" I asked tentatively, seeking confirmation.