Death's Captive: Will she escape eternal confinement?

CHAPTER 23

I amble from the car park back into the hospital and find a comfortable place to sit. I close my eyes and tilt my head to the ceiling. I'm still mulling over Albert and hoping he's alright. It's sinking in that now he's gone I have nowhere to go; nobody to talk to, apart from Niklaus, of course, but his appearances are unpredictable and out of my control. I make a concerted effort to sort through my thoughts, remembering little titbits that have been left behind from my previous lives.

'We can take it!' – the unofficial motto of the British during the Second World War.

I recall having the weekend off work after getting clearance from the ward sister to visit my mother in the East End. An air raid during dinner. People heading to shelters, either in back yards or underground train stations. Trying to persuade my mum to leave the house and take refuge in the neighbours' bomb shelter, but because of the incidences of looters during raids, she refused to leave her possessions and freshly gathered rations. Hiding under the kitchen table and praying. My mum's poky kitchen with the yellow drapes over the window. I remember being exhausted after a long shift at the hospital and falling into a restless sleep in my mother's lap; her stroking my hair as the bombs rained down around us. It's bizarre how you can become accustomed to any kind of chaos. I remember the dust over the table when the raid was over. When I reflect back on that memory, I realise something is different: My eyes are now open to someone I didn't know was there before. I see a dark figure and I know his face. Niklaus. At the time I didn't know he was there, but I now realise Niklaus was watching over me that night while I took shelter under the kitchen table. Watching, without the intent to reap the souls of the deceased, but rather like a guardian angel. Unable to change what was occurring he could only wait to see if I was to die that night. If I had died that night he would have been there waiting for me.

"Excuse me lady?" a small voice squeaks.

I tilt my head down and a look into the eyes of a small bald child who is looking directly at me.

"Yes?"

"You're the lady who was here a few nights ago, aren't you? With the man..."

I look around and realise I'm in a caregiver's seat in the children's oncology ward. Two beds down from where I'm sitting is where the spirit of the small child was harvested by Niklaus.

"Yes".

"He's dead now."

I rise from the chair to walk towards her and stand at the end of her bed.

"They say I'm going to die soon." The child speaks in a matter of fact way that makes me think she doesn't understand the weight of her words.

"No, you're not." I say to her with a warm smile. Funny how we have automatic responses in these situations. I glide across the floor towards the ward door and mutter to myself. "Well not yet anyway."