Dancing with the Dead ✔

Chapter Twenty-Six - Welcome to the Real World

Oh, no. Pull yourself together, Alexis!

"Thanks." I try to smile even though parts of my face still feel numb.

I can still feel my pulse races, so I try to focus on something else to get that strange thought out of my head.

That's when I remember.

John. Where is he?

My eyes search the vast land before finally finding the spirit laying unconscious about ten feet away from me.

"John!" I cry.

I put one hand on the ground and another on the detective's arms to help me stand. Just when I'm about to rise on my feet, my legs feel weak and unsteady. The whole land feels like its spinning around me and before I know it, I'm about to fall to the ground again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Careful, Doc." Lucas uses one hand to grip my waist and keep me from falling. "Let's just sit for a while, shall we?"

My breath hitches and my pulse races even more when I feel his arm wrapped around my waist.

Uh-oh. This is not good. Not good.

Before I know it, I'm already sitting on the ground with him sitting next to me. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down.

When I finally get a grip of myself, I shot my gaze across the room to the spirit who's waking up with a groan, holding one hand on his forehead. That's when I notice something odd. I squint my eyes, hoping to get a closer look, and that's when I see the tears on his face. When he finally realizes the reason I was staring at him, he wipes the tear away in an instant. He raises on his feet and approaches me.

"Oh my God. What happened?" John kneels in front of me, his eyes fixated on the newly pasted band-aid on my cheek.

"I... don't know..."

With one hand holding my aching forehead, I try to recall what happened. Meanwhile, I draw one hand to my left eye, which somehow feels like it's been beaten repeatedly. I gulp, trying to hold the pain.

How did I get so badly injured? Did I happen to hit my head on a stone? But... As the memories keep flooding back to me, I remember the wounds that John got from being beaten by the Italian man.

Yes. The wounds.

Then, I remember what Lucas said earlier and start to put two and two together. I realize that whatever was happening to John in his memory affected me too, in the worst possible way. But that's when I notice something odd.

"Wait... didn't you remember?"

"Remember what?" John draws his brows together.

"The memory! Where you got beat up, and this!" I point to my scar. "It's the same scar you got."

When he finally understands what I mean, his look of confusion slowly turns into guilt. "So..." he drags a hand to my cheek. "This is my fault?"

"No, John... It's not your fault..." I give him a reassuring look. "But... How can you not remember?"

"I was..." He pauses, the guilt on his face grows clearer. I let my expression repeats the question. "I was in your memory..."

His words send me to utter shock.

So it works both ways?

Then, my curiosity forces me to ask the inevitable, "Which memory was it?"

He purses his lips together while I slowly sense pity in his expression. His face silently tells me the answer.

"That night, huh?"