With my breathing back to a normal tempo, I got up and walked to the bathroom to wash my face. The water splashed cold against the faded white porcelain sink, reminding me of how much I needed to clean my condo. While I waited for the water to heat up I looked myself over in the mirror. The blood had dried in the cut across my temple, the edges pink and swollen. The bruising around the gash had faded to a dark blue and purple that measured from my hairline down to my eyebrow. It would be a few days before the bruise started to heal and even longer for the cut to heal. The tear in my lip wasn’t very big to begin with and was now just a small slice on the left side of my bottom lip. Splashing warm water on my face, I was careful around the cut on my temple. After drying off with a nearby towel, I put some antibacterial cream on the cut, careful not to push too hard on the open wound.
As I changed into a baggy sweatshirt, my stomach rumbled in protest at not being fed since breakfast. Grabbing my cell off the nightstand, I ordered a small pizza and sat down at my computer in the living room.
I wished I could talk to Robert about what had happened. Not having any answers was driving me crazy and it was clear, Brett didn’t want me asking questions. But why? Wasn’t the cat already out of the bag once Robert healed me?
Frustrated, I pulled up a fresh internet window, I felt insane for what I was about to do, but what choice did they leave me?
The curser blinked in the narrow search bar, taunting me as I tried to decide what to search.
Miraculous healing from fatal wound. I typed hesitantly and pressed enter.
Spells for video games and bible links littered the front page of google. It’s not like I was expecting to find a link titled, So Robert Maxwell miraculously healed you and now you want answers, but this wasn’t getting me anywhere.
I clicked the next button, something I rarely did and began to search through the depths of the internet.
The pizza arrived about twenty minutes into my search when I found something that looked promising.
Clicking on the link, titled, King Arthur and Magical Healing, I braced myself.
There was a short story on the front page and as I skimmed it, I ate my pizza.
Arthur was born prematurely and they feared he wouldn’t make it through the night. Three days after Arthur came into the world, a visitor arrived. It was Merlin.
Merlin was not only a Soothsayer but he had the ability to heal fatal wounds. Arthur’s parents let Merlin examine the premature babe and he told them he could save the child, but Arthur would be changed forever. They agreed wholeheartedly to give their son a fighting chance and Merlin saved Arthur's life that night. From that day forward Arthur had a Magical soul.
I scrolled down the page a little further as I stuffed another piece of pizza into my mouth.
Merlin foresaw that Arthur would end the clan wars and bring everyone together under his rule. Without Arthur, the tribes of England would destroy each other and in turn destroy the future of Britain.
Interesting, It was at least a better story than the Disney version, I thought.
His parents didn’t have the slightest clue how he was different. After all, he looked and acted like any other child. But when Arthur turned sixteen, Merlin return for him.
He explained to Arthur that Magic was real and that he had a destiny to fulfill, but in order to do so, he would have to leave his family behind and become Merlin’s apprentice.
The words, magic was real, made the back of my brain tickle. I had never believed in Magic, but how else could I explain how Robert healed me.
Arthur grew into his Magic and became a fierce warrior under Merlin’s guidance. Some say, their Magic was linked and they moved as if they were an extension of one another.
Scrolling a little further, I continued reading.
Once Merlin deemed Arthur fit to rule, they returned to his home town and he pulled the sword from the stone, becoming King and ruling over all of Britain until the day he died.
I sat back in my chair as I came to the bottom of the web page. This wasn’t exactly what I had been looking for, but I had to admit, something about it felt familiar.
A rustling noise outside made me sit up and look around the living room. My heart raced as I watched for movement. I heard another noise that sounded like someone was trying to unlock the front door. What if it was him and he was back to finish the job? I went to grab my cell off the desk and realized I must have left it on the night stand. Damn! I jumped out of my chair, heart pounding and mind racing, and made my way as quietly as possible to the hall closet. Opened the closet door, I grabbed the baseball bat I kept as a crude alarm system.
I held my breath as I edged toward the front door. My hands were clammy as I gripped the bat, ready to strike. I waited for another sound but heard nothing. My knees locked in place as I stood frozen in my entryway, trying to listen for anything that might sound out of place. After a minute or two, I built up enough courage to take a quick look through the peephole. There was no one there. I kept one hand on the bat as I slowly unlocked the door and opened it. I peeked my head out the door — both hands back on the bat, ready to swing.
Everything seemed perfectly normal, the ocean breeze rustled the trees and a few crickets chirped from some dark corner.
“Violet, what are you doing?” Harriet asked coming out of the shadows.
My heart leapt into my throat and I jumped backwards at the sound of her voice. Harriet came into the light from my right side, looking at me as if I was crazy.
“Shit… I thought you were…” I sighed and tried to collect myself. “I thought I heard someone trying to… wait, what are you doing out this late?” I asked, confused. It wasn’t like Harriet to lurk around in the dark.
“Couldn’t sleep.” She shrugged. “Thought I'd go for a walk.” She smiled and looked up the full length of me to the Louisville Slugger I still held above my head.
“You didn’t see anything did you? Anything that looked out of place?” I asked, looking around her into the darkness, still jittery and my fingers white on the bat.
“No, not at all.” Her voice was light but I noticed she kept her distance from me.
“I could’ve sworn I heard someone,” I said under my breath. I relaxed ever so slightly and lowered the bat a few inches.
“It was probably just one of the neighbor’s cats. Why don’t you go back inside and get some sleep? It’s late.”
“You're probably right.” I lowered the bat to the ground and self-consciously rubbed the tiny scar on my stomach. “Night, Harriet.” I turned to go back into the house.
“Goodnight, dear.”
As I walked across the entryway, a cool breeze ruffled my hair. My feet froze and I looked in the direction the breeze had come from. The living room looked empty so I edged forward with my bat once more ready to swing. The palms of my hands were sweaty and my stomach felt like it had bottomed out. Something was definitely off but nothing looked out of place.
An ocean-scented breeze ruffled the drapes over my patio window, the cool air freezing me in place. I couldn’t remember opening the window but it was possible I just forgot to close it earlier. I moved cautiously toward the opening. With one hand still gripping the bat, I closed and locked it. I relaxed some, but I still had the feeling something wasn’t right.