Chapter 2
"'And the boy held her hands. They were soft and warm—much like the cup of coffee they had shared just a few moments ago. He put his hand to her waist and grasped her hand with the other. Then they danced to the silent music of nature with only the moon to light them and the wind to accompany them,'" Celia read.
"And?" Amelia asked.
"That's it for that chapter," Celia said, putting down The Midnight Dance book on Amelia's bedside table. She playfully tapped Amelia's nose—a gesture she seemed to have developed for the sole purpose of telling Amelia that enough is enough.
"Can't you read me one more?" Amelia begged.
Celia laughed. "You're seventeen; I'm sure you can read on by yourself."
"But I like how you narrate stories!"
"Well then," Celia said, standing up. "You'd have to wait until tomorrow." The nurse stroke the girl's hair like her own daughter. She sighed. "You really made me worry today."
"I know," Amelia replied, sighing back. "But I really couldn't remember what actually happened. I just remember touching a ring, then pain came over and then next thing I know I'm here on my hospital bed."
"The guys that got you didn't report about a ring," Celia said. "If they did, they would've told me about it. What did it look like?"
"I don't know. Silver, maybe? It looked pretty ordinary."
"Maybe it triggered some of your memories?" Celia suggested.
"Maybe."
Celia gazed upon the girl's clear, youthful eyes with compassion. "If you get your memories back, you'd have to leave this place. You know that, right?"
Amelia nodded.
"Won't that be great, though?"
"Yeah..." Amelia muttered. "But I won't be able to see any of you guys again."
Celia sat back down on the girl's bed. She took her hand and held it tight. "Amelia," she started. "You've been here for about three years. You deserve to meet new people and to learn new things out there." She gestured outside the girl's window. It was night out; the moon was partially hidden by a hoard of clouds. A few stars twinkled meekly.
"It's pretty dark out there," Amelia replied, sarcastic.
"Oh you know what I mean."
Amelia laughed. "Just kidding," she added. "But I do meet new people here."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah! I met that newly transferred boy and his nurse!"
"You mean Taylor and Prince?" Celia asked warily, her grasp weakening on Amelia's hand. A sad, nostalgic expression filled Celia's face. She stared at her hands with eyes drowned with sorrow—it seemed as if she could burst out crying anytime soon.
Amelia could only observe her, confused. It was rare for her to see Celia like that. Celia was the girl that loved to live in the moment; not to recount the past. Amelia couldn't take the silence. "Is Prince your ex-boyfriend?" she asked.
Celia perked up upon hearing this, like an idle bunny suddenly flipping its ears up. "What? No!" The nurse shook her head hard. So hard that Amelia thought she might've been having a seizure. "No, no, definitely no!" Celia repeated. The thought of it reanimated her. She swung off Amelia's bed and crossed her arms. Shaking her head once more—less extreme than the last one—she said, "You're keeping me here, aren't you?"
"Uh, no?" Amelia said. She wanted to point out that she wasn't the one zoning out on her bed, but Celia looked so sad that she was scared to point it out.
"Its way past your bedtime, young lady," Celia scolded. She marched over to the door and opened it. "If I see even one bit of light when I pass by here later, you're going to be in big trouble."
"Goodnight, mom," Amelia joked.
"Very funny," Celia replied, smiling. She flicked off the lights in the room and everything went dark. Celia's silhouette stood at the door frame. "Remember. Not one bit of light."
"Got it."
"Goodnight; sleep tight," Celia said.
The room dove into complete darkness once the girl's nurse closed the door.
___
-Entry 016, October 31-
It's Halloween tonight! I still couldn't figure out what I should wear. Celia suggested that I should just wear a white dress and pass off as Cinderella. Although this isn’t really one of Celia’s greatest ideas in her life, it was pretty easy to do. She went home as I was having breakfast earlier and had brought me this silk-white dress she said she had worn for her prom when she was around my age. It was beautiful. It was like its woven out from the clouds.
Anyways, Taylor’s bodyguard, Prince, met me again at breakfast. He said Taylor wanted to visit me in my room and maybe read a few books together. I’m not confident in my narrating skills, though. Compared to Celia, I’m probably going to be pretty bad. But he did say my voice was pretty. Whatever that meant.
Someone’s knocking. I think that’s them.
Amelia
___
Amelia swiftly covered her journal under her sheets before picking up a book from her bedside table. “Come in!” Amelia shouted.
The door cracked open. Prince’s head popped in, smiling. “So this is where Ms. Amelia spends most of her time.”
"Hi," Amelia greeted, innocently putting down the book she was pretend-reading. "Where's Taylor?"
"Right here." Taylor stepped in beside Prince. Surprisingly enough, he was wearing a button-down blue shirt and a pair of khaki jeans.
"You bring your wardrobe here?" Amelia asked.
"For special occasions...such as this," Prince answered for Taylor, who shouldered him annoyingly. Prince laughed. "Alright. I got some paperwork to do so why don't I leave you two alone here?"
Amelia blinked. "Wait, what?"
"That was the plan," Taylor agreed.
"Take care of him for me, will ya'?" Prince said, already halfway through the door.
"But—"
But Prince closed the door behind him, leaving the girl and the boy alone. Silence. It seemed like an eternity of silence. Amelia gaped at the boy who stood frozen at her door way.
"Hello?" Taylor called out, reaching a hand out at a wall. "Did you jump out of the window or something?"
"I'm here!" Amelia answered, realizing that she was letting him just stand there. "I was just, um...I just don't get a lot of...this, usually."
"You mean you never spent alone time with boys before?"
"Well..."
Taylor chuckled. "Don't worry about it. Since I'm blind, you can make any weird face you want. I don't care if your hair is messy or if your room is messy. Although I might have to object if I find dirty underwear on the ground." He wrinkled his nose as if such a thing had happened before.
"No underwear, I swear," Amelia promised.
"I hope so," Taylor replied. With a hand out in front of him, he took a step forward. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll be tracing your voice." He took another step forward.
"Tracing my what?"
"Your voice. I'm still getting used to it, but I'm going to try to come over to you without directions. Just tell me if I'm about to hit my head or if I'm about to step on something I shouldn't step on."
"Like dirty underwear?"
"Exactly like dirty underwear."
"I'll keep an eye out for you then."
"Thank you very much."
"So...I just keep talking?"
"Mmm."
"Are you sure you've done this before?"
"Like a bat."
"Gotcha. Can you see walls? Or, like, my mini-fridge?"
He stopped. "We have a mini-fridge in our rooms?" he asked; unbelieving.
"I thought all of us do," Amelia replied.
"Prince is going to get it when he comes back," he muttered.
Amelia cracked up. "Did he make a stupid reason that's related to keeping things cool?"
"Very much so." Taylor resumed his step-by-step walk, raising his hand again to make sure nothing hard was in front of him.
"Did he go out to keep your cola cool instead of just shoving it in your fridge?"
"Someth
ing like that— Ow. Mini-fridge?"
"Mini-fridge," Amelia affirmed.
Taylor shuffled around the object with his hand planted on it. Amelia found it impressive that he was relaxed while doing it. She figured if she was walking blind she'd be freaking out by then. Maybe she'll toe-hit a cabinet. Or maybe she'll suddenly step on a hole. Or maybe a flight of stairs that no one told her about. Such possibilities never escaped her mind.
"That was not sexy at all," Taylor said once he had completely circumnavigated the mini-fridge. "Any other mini-things I should be aware of? A mini-heater or something? I can't really hear out things below my waist."
"Nothing else below the waist. Except for my bed...which you're getting really close to."
"...Is this the bed?"
"Yup," Amelia confirmed.
"What's this, um...fluffy thing?"
"That's my dress."
"Very fluffy. Mind if I sit down?"
"On the dress?" Amelia asked.
Taylor laughed. "Of course not. I like sitting on the floor," he said as he bent over, crossing his legs underneath him and leaning his back on her bed. He took a deep breath. "Magnolia."
"That's creepy."
"Why? Is that your perfume?"
"No, that's my shampoo."
"Well it's not my fault it's all over your room. Just shows how much time you've spent here, which brings me to the question: how long have you been staying in this place?"
"Five years, I think," Amelia answered.
Taylor whistled. "That's funny."
"Huh?"
"I got blind five years ago as well."
"Oh..."
"Coincidence or not, right?"
Amelia chuckled. "Probably coincidence."
"So, what are you in here for? So far, I don't think you have cancer or an amputated arm...or leg."
"This hospital doesn't admit cancer patients, dummy," Amelia replied. "And I'm not an amputee. I'm just here because I can't remember a thing."
"Relatives?"
"They don't care about me."
"Parents?"
"They're gone."
"Oh," Taylor said. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. It's been five years. I got over it. Celia's pretty much the only family I have right now."
"Celia!" Taylor exclaimed, pointing a finger up to the ceiling as if he had said Eureka!
Confused, Amelia asked, "What about her?"
"So that's the name of the nurse Prince was hitting on!"
"Seriously?"
"Yeah! That's why he refuses to use my mini-fridge—so he has an excuse to go out and flirt with her!"
"Are you sure it's Celia?" Amelia asked. She didn't really take Celia for the type of woman to flirt back to guys like Prince. But then again, she was only seventeen; what did she know about flirting?
Taylor nodded at the wall. "Very sure. I overheard Prince talking to someone outside my room one time. He asked for her name. She said 'C' something."
"What are the odds," Amelia said. "There's another nurse here with 'C' in her name."
"Who?"
"Catherine."
"It didn't sound like a Catherine."
"I'll leave that to you," Amelia replied. She got off her bed and stepped over Taylor. "Excuse me."
"No problem."
She opened her fridge and took out two juice-boxes. She handed one to Taylor before popping the straw on hers. Amelia watched Taylor pull the packaged straw from the box, delicately inserting it in the straw hole. He sipped his juice.
"So, what about you?"
"Mmm?" Taylor responded.
"What's your story?"
"Well, I think you know."
Amelia took a short swig of her juice. She sat right next to Taylor on the edge of her bed with a few inches to spare between them. "I'm sure you're not just blind and relocated to this place. You kind of have to get a special case to actually get here."
Taylor put down his juice, sighing. "Okay, I'll tell you. But don't freak out."
"I'm listening."
"I swallowed a box of staplers."
Amelia stared at him. "Doubt it."
"Didn't buy it, huh?" Taylor muttered. "Fine. I'll tell you the real reason. But seriously, don't freak out."
"I won't freak out," Amelia said, casually taking a sip from her juice-box.
"I also lost my memories five years ago."
Amelia choked on her drink. Coughing, she got up to fetch a towel.
"Are you okay?"
"Mmm," Amelia replied as she wiped her face.
"Did you shoot orange juice from your nose?"
"Ew, no," Amelia lied. Juice dripped down her chin. She hastily dabbled her face to get rid of the evidence. But someone barging in the room seeing her with a trail of orange juice from her nose was the 2nd thing that she was worried about. The first was what Taylor had said. "Five years ago?" Amelia repeated.
"Weird, huh?"
"Like I said," Amelia replied, "must be coincidence."
"Hmm, yeah, maybe you're right."
There was a brief knock on the door. Prince poked his head in with a gleam in his eyes. "Back! Hope I'm not intervening or something—"
Amelia cried, alarming both Taylor and Prince.
"What is it?" Taylor inquired.
"My dress—it's got orange juice all over it!" Amelia said. The dress was, for a matter of fact, ruined. A large blotch of orange stuck on the front, making it look like someone had barfed on it.
"This is a mess," Prince said, putting a hand on his chin. "Is that your only dress for the Halloween party tonight?"
"It isn't even mine." Amelia sighed.
"Celia's?" Prince asked.
Taylor chuckled.
"Yeah, it was her high school prom dress thing."
"Why are you wearing such a pretty dress for a party full of kids?" Prince inquired. "Unless of course..."
It took Amelia a few seconds to get what he meant. Her face grew hot. "It's not what you think it is!"
"I technically can't dance," Taylor butted in. "It's either I'll be stepping on your feet or you're going to step on mine. Or maybe even both. Although we could do it like they did in Twilight—"
"Nooo!" Amelia answered. "I'm not dancing with anyone! I just want to go to the party as Cinderella; is that such a hard thing to comprehend for your brains?!" she finished, taking heavy breaths.
"Whoa, calm down you two," Prince said. "I never said anything about a dance."
"You didn't mean a dance?" Taylor asked, adopting a disappointment look. He looked pretty cute; his eyebrows were scrunched up together and his lip curved in a perfect way. It made Amelia's heart beat run faster for a reason she didn't really know.
"What then?" Amelia challenged, tearing her gaze from the boy.
"I was going to say 'unless of course you plan to be Erileth.'"
Amelia frowned. "Who's Erileth?"
Prince chuckled. "Don't know? She’s from this story about Death's daughter, which is Erileth. She watches over children because she has a firm belief that children shouldn't die so early in their lives. Most of the time, she convinces her father to spare a little child's life, but of course, she couldn't convince him of everything without giving something in return. Her father had to take an hour from her life everytime she saved a child's life...until she died."
"That's pretty morbid for a children's Halloween party."
Prince shrugged. "But hey, Cinderella works too."
"But I can't. My dress is ruined," Amelia replied, holding up the once pure-white dress.
"You could dress up as Amelia," Taylor suggested. "You won't need to get a new set of clothes for that."
Amelia exhaled. "What's the fun in that?"
"The fun part is that you don't have to dress up," Taylor replied.
Prince started nodding. "See, now he's got a point..."
"Not helping," Amelia said. She bundled up the dress and tucked it under her arm. "I'm gonna go to the cleaners to see what they can
do."
"Good luck," Prince said. "You have, like, what? Five hours?"
"I can make it," Amelia said, determined.
"Well, see you then," Taylor said, standing up. He got on the bed and lied down. "I'll take a nap."
"Take a nap in your room, geez!" Amelia replied. She didn't bother to stay after that line.
Amelia went out into the hall and marched straight to the stairwell. The hall was bright and shiny due to the harsh sunlight passing through the windows. Kids were playing outside in their costumes, making Amelia smile as she walked by.
She went down the stairs as fast as she could, positioning her dress under her arm in a way that it won't fall easily. Normally, she wouldn't even dare of doing such a thing. Then again, who knows how long cleaning that dress up would take? As she was doing so, she felt a cold bristle on her back.
Her foot slipped.
Amelia stared at the dozen or more steps that awaited her body. She felt as if the distance between her face and the steps was unnaturally long. Maybe it just like that because everything seemed to be slowing down. But her face approached the blunt steps, nonetheless. She already imagined what would happen. Her neck broken. Her face sliced open. I'm going to die, she thought. I'm going to die here.
But before she could completely tilt, someone grabbed her arm. The girl froze up, holding her breath. Her heart pounded in her chest like a cop trying to knock down a door. She was suspended diagonally with only the stranger's hand to hold her. The hand that grasped her was unnaturally cold, but she didn't pay much mind to it; she was more concerned about who it was that just saved her life.
The stranger pulled her up straight again. She held onto the hand rail with her dear life as her legs failed to carry her weight. Crumpling into a seat, Amelia sat down on the steps, breathing deeply. She craned her neck back to identify her savior. "Thank you—"
"You're not supposed to die yet," the strange man replied. Amelia didn't recognize his face.
The man was tall. His body was burly and firm. Along with a sleek-black tuxedo, the man looked like a very important business man—a type of person Amelia least expected to be in the hospital. But what shook her up more was the ring on his hand.
It was the same silver ring she had found yesterday. The sight of it made her feel sick as if something buried wanted to dig out of her mind.
"What do you mean?" Amelia said softly, almost whispering.
The man stared at her. "Our deal is almost done, but it's not done yet. I can, however, return your memories, but that would cut out the boy instantly. Do you want me to return your memories now?"
"Huh?"
The man closed his eyes for a moment. "Ah, I see. You don't remember." He stepped forward, taking the silver ring off his finger. "I suppose you can have a little bit."
Amelia wanted to run as the man approached her with the ring outstretched towards her. But she could barely move. "Wait...wait, no—"
The ring touched her forehead.
Everything went dark. She couldn't feel or smell or detect anything. All she heard was two people speaking.
A boy was crying; sobbing. "We just had to drive over the bridge—how could this happen?"
"It happens without anyone's judgment," a man's voice replied.
"You can't take her!" the boy snapped. "If you're going to take her, take me instead!"
A deathly silence passed through. It felt like forever before the man replied. "If I were to take you, what's there to say that she wouldn't do the same for you?"
"Then take away her memories of me!"
"That's not possible," the man replied. "I cannot steal someone's memories without taking everything."
"Then what can I do, huh?"
"Well, I propose a deal."
"A...deal?"
"Yes. In exchange for her life, I will take away your sight and your memories."
Another wave of silence went by.
The boy said, "Deal."
"Very well."
___
Amelia's vision returned. She was back at the stairwell. The man sat right next to her, pinching the ring with his thumb and index finger.
"What— I don't understand what that was—" Amelia stuttered.
"That's his deal. I cannot reveal to you your deal with mine."
"Wait, was that...Taylor?"
The man's face seemed to grow harder. "Yes."
"But then...what do you mean my deal with you is almost up? I'm going to die? But I thought he made a deal with you?"
"His deal does not concern your deal with mine."
"But I don't even remember my deal with you—whoever you are!"
"I am what you people call an Angel. An Angel of Death to be exact."
That introduction took a few moments to sink in. She made a deal with Death? What for?
The man stood up, pocketing the ring. "Well...you have until tonight. Taylor's deal with me stands. Yours is almost up." The man took one last cold look at her. Out of nowhere, he threw her dress back at her. Unlike before, however, it was clean as snow. "Spend your time wisely. You deserve it," the man said, walking up the stairs.
"Wait!" Amelia called. But the man didn't turn or acknowledge her. He simply walked until he vanished out of sight. Strength instantly returned to her body once he went out of her sight. With dress in hand, Amelia ran up the stairs to follow him, but when she got there, he was already gone.
The girl crumpled against the wall, hugging the snow-white dress in her arms and burying her face in its softness. It was hard to believe—she was going to die, she made a deal with Death and Taylor saved her life five years ago. It felt as if someone had dropped a huge boulder on her body. She held fast, fighting back tears; the last thing she wanted to do was cry.
"Amelia?" someone called.
Amelia raised her head from her dress. Taylor stood a few meters in front of her with his hands out.
"Taylor?" Amelia said. "What are you doing here? Where's Prince?"
"Prince is somewhere. He left me in my room." The boy frowned. "You called my name, didn't you?"
"I didn't," Amelia answered. "Look, do you remember anything from five years ago? Anything at all?"
The boy bent his lips. "No. Nothing. All I remember is darkness. Even now all I see is darkness."
"Oh..."
"Amelia?" Taylor called.
"Yeah?"
"I don't think it was a coincidence—our accidents."
Amelia stood up, rolling up the dress. She approached Taylor until he was just a few inches away.
Taylor sniffed, wrinkling his nose. "What is it?"
"Can I hug you?"
Taylor hesitated, but nodded his head. Amelia wrapped her arms around the boy, who just stood still like a stick. "What's this about?"
"Thank you."
"What for?"
Amelia put her forehead against his chest. "For everything."
"I, uh, I didn't do much, really—"
Amelia pulled away. She couldn't bear seeing his innocent face. Whatever deal she just made with Death, it cost Amelia her life—the same life Taylor had saved. Amelia slowly back away until there was a few feet between them. She dropped her dress on the tiled floor. And then she ran.
She didn't dare look back.
___
Taylor figured she wasn't coming back when he heard her run away. Her familiar scent of magnolia still lingered in the air, throwing him off. He called her name a couple of times just for good measure. No answer.
He felt agitated about Amelia's actions. Something was up; something had happened. He took a few steps forward until he stepped on something soft. He knelt down to pick whatever it was and discovered Amelia's dress. Amelia scent was on it. He instantly knew something was wrong when he held it. He didn't know how, but he knew. It was as if his instincts had kicked in.
"Amelia," he whispered, standing up again with the dress in his hand. "Amelia," he repeated, taking another step forward. He was about to take anothe
r one when someone caught his hand.
"Careful, bud!" Prince said. "You're two steps from a deathly flight of stairs."
"Oh," Taylor said.
"Hey isn't that your girlfriend's dress?"
"Prince," Taylor said, ignoring his remark. "I think Amelia's in trouble."