H A U N T E D

t h i r t y - s e v e n

I don't realize Jack took the cone shell from his dresser, until he brings it up to hover above us. It is a beautiful piece of nature, and it is not cracked nor broken, as most of the shells on the beach tends to be.

"This is a Juno's Volute shell", Jack's speaks up. I didn't know that, I thought it was another cone shell. It is brown, with dark spots covering it, like a cheetah's fur.

"They are extremely rare, and to find one, is nearly impossible, as they are damaged at sea before they get to land", he continues on, rubbing his thumb across the shiny surface of the shell.

"The day I was...set free, from the cage, coffin, whatever you want to call it", Jack clears his throat, uncomfortable with the topic. I am surprised he is bringing it up.

"The person who set me free, and I, were walking down the side of the mountain that led to the ocean. I was nearly crazy with thirst, and delusional. It is peculiar, I remember the moments, but they seem to blur within each other. I didn't know truth from what my mind made up to protect me", Jack frowns deeply. My hand strokes his chest, almost comforting him. Maybe I am not used to the direction of the conversation, but obviously Jack needs to talk about it, and I won't be the one to stop him on his road to recovery.

"Anyway, we were walking down the beach, and the man seemed hurried to get into the water. I remember thinking that it was almost like we were being chased. I never had the chance to realize that there were high buildings all around us, with sharp and metallic sounds", he recalls with a husky voice. Mentally, I try to work out the math. Jack was twelve years old when the Black Plague came to an end in the mid 1350s — we did a whole chapter based on Medieval art inspired by the pandemic in Art History a few years ago. He was nineteen when he was turned and captured, so that would mean Jack was found in the late 1930s or early 1940s. My stomach turns at the thought. He had just been released from his own personal hell, just to enter the world at war.

"And the man paused on the beach, scouring for what I guess to be lost humans. It was the time of the war, and soldiers didn't return home, so I guess he was searching for a meal for me. That's when I saw it, this small shell", Jack lifts the shell up once again for me to see.

"The shell that survived the deepest and troubling waters, through treacherous storms. I never understood why I found it, then and at that moment. I held onto it, until I could understand the meaning",  the boy lifts my open hand to his, and places the shell in my grasp. He curls my fingers around it, and sets it down to my chest.

"Now I know. You're the beacon of goodness, the beauty who withstood it all", Jack smiles and places a kiss against my temple. My cheeks flare up at the untrue compliment, and I turn on my stomach to look at Jack.

"I wish you didn't keep me on such a pedestal."

In all honesty, at times it feels like I have to achieve this high expectation Jack has for me, something that I have to meet, or I'll disappoint him. 

"Besides, you do know I have done bad things, like awful things?", I look down at the covers, placing the shell on the bed. The small memento is something I will always keep dear to me, of Jack. He kept it all these years, and now he's giving it to me, without a second thought.

"Show me the person who has not sinned, and I will show you the person who has not loved, for surely they must be of the same vein", Jack remarks near carelessly. It is times like this that I am reminded that Jack is not from these times, and that he lived in a time where people were not doubtful in their words.

"Jack", I call his name softly, a gentle caress of the syllable. He turns his head to me, and I push myself to sit on my knees, leaning forward on the palms of my hands that are pressed into the bed.