(Book 3) Hayden Mackay and The Shaatrumani Stone

9. Mind and Body versus Soul

Author's note: As the Thanksgiving weekend is approaching I decided to post the next chapter today. I really hope you enjoy this crucial chapter. Thank you and Happy Thanksgiving.

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Tyrell tossed and turned but couldn't find right position to sleep. The voices were reverberating all around his room and that was what blossoming an icy discomfort in his chest. While the rest of the academy might have already retired to their rooms and embracing dreams, he was still fighting the never ending battle inside his heart- to sleep or not to sleep.

A lingering haze of sleep was back inside his mind, but the same mind was forcing him to stay out of slumber. He slowly lifted his head up to check on the clock and on finding it was about to strike twelve, he sighed heavily out of trepidation. He felt a tickle on his temples because of the newly forming sweat. His mind reminded him that it was about to start anytime now and surprisingly he has been receiving these reminders since past few days. His supposedly Alzheimer's diseases and blackouts weren't helping him to forget the pain anymore. He just couldn't share his sufferings with anyone. There was a sharp inkling inside his mind threatening him that if he did, it might only cause worse. He so wanted to get out of the room and find Leena, to be in her company and to escape from the apparent torture. But his body refused to listen to him.

"Put your stone away. Now!"

His insides cried out of fear on hearing the demanding voice but he couldn't force it out through his mouth. His hands enacted as per the voice. Sitting up straight on his bed he took his stone out of his pocket, watched down at his shining opal for a few beats and leaned over to keep it on the table. He knew it very well that his stone shall come back to him if didn't stay any closer. So he did stay closer, as his mind demanded him to.

And so, it began...

Blood rushed towards his head. Pain throbbed so violently around his skull that he wanted it to crack open at once without keeping him so long in the cage of pain. He heard his own strangled cry but it was forcefully faint. He couldn't let the sound of his shriek penetrate outside the room, even though it was told to him that no one can hear him scream. His eyes shot open fully but he could only see colorful spots in front of his eyeballs. He leaped out of the bed. Clutching his head, he fell on his knees, bending so down to place his head on the floor and wished for the pain to stop.

"Tyrell!"

The adenoidal voice that was reverberating inside his room was much natural now and as soon as he heard it, his pain slowly and gradually subdued. But he wasn't feeling well. Hearing a finger snapping sound gave him a sharp sting throughout his body only for a second. Instantly he fell in a dark prison and the prison was his own body. His heart skipped a beat on realizing what was happening to him, why he was feeling different.

An alternative personality he wasn't aware of has just born.

His mind and body was ripped apart from his soul.  This could mean only one thing- he has to face the horror of having double emotions and double visions.

"You are late."

He flinched finding his mouth talking without his permission, his voice extremely hoarse. First he wasn't able to comprehend with whom he was talking. But he couldn't care less. He knew there was someone inside his room and he just wanted to grab his stone for his defense.

"My son!"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" Tyrell snarled.

His throat constricted when he looked up at the man that his mind recognized but his soul, watching through his eyes, couldn't. Standing near the door of his room was a tall scrawny man, leaned against the wall, his long hands crossed across his dark ebony chest covered with innumerable colored beaded chains hanging down his scraggly neck and wearing a black loincloth from his waist down. Aged in mid forties he looked rather young, his face features matching Tyrell's.