“The Keeper? You mean God?”
“The Keeper is definitely not God. If you ruled the world, would you seriously spend your days filtering through the dead? Hell no, you wouldn’t. You’d assign that shit to someone else. Delegate. Delegate. Delegate.”
“I’m …” I inched my head side to side.
“It’s confusing. I know.” She gathered her hair over one shoulder and began braiding it. “NDEs, OBEs, reincarnation, Heaven, Hell, eternal enlightenment … the possibilities seem endless. It’s easier to believe in the Big Bang Theory and resign yourself to the idea that the earth’s creatures will devour your remains when you die. The circle of life makes the most sense. Yet … here we are, knowing there’s some other factor, some other force. Such a small percentage of people come back. I mean … when the heart stops … that’s it. But humanity has messed with that. We like to swoop in and save lives—Hinder not the soul’s intended path unto the light.”
My brain hurt. It made no sense. Why would it be wrong to save a life? It was what I’d suspected the proverb or curse meant, but I didn’t want to believe it.
“I’m not supposed to save people?” I laughed.
She replied with a sharp nod. “Think of those words as the original DNR (do not resuscitate). Once you get past the mass of flesh that is the human body, you’ll have a greater respect for the eternal soul and the importance of not disrupting its journey.”
“Shards of darkness … I feel their pain until they die.”
Her head bobbed side to side. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but if that deters you from interrupting the soul’s path, then sure … you share their pain until they die, and all is released.”
“But that’s my job.”
She closed the book. “Find a new one.”
“I don’t want a new job.” I refrained from telling her my superhero dreams.
“Then accept the darkness. Listen … you’re looking at the queen of darkness, the ruler of rebellion, the obstinate soul who just can’t get enough of this one life. You still have free choice, but with a new set of consequences.”
“So this is what happens to everyone who saves a life?”
“Everyone? No. Most people in your position don’t see anything wrong with saving a life. They’re heralded as heroes. But knowledge imparts accountability. Those who know better must act better. Now, you know better.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
With sweat beading along my brow, I forced myself to get out of bed the next morning. Never again would I take for granted the gift of mobility. Ten steps to the toilet shouldn’t humble anyone. Yet, it robbed years of self-esteem as my ribs protested when I twisted my torso to wipe my ass.
After the marathon of a simple shit and hand washing, my leg tried to reject all attempts to walk into the other room. Closing my eyes, I reminded myself that my leg was fine. Still, it hurt. The injury wasn’t real to me, but the pain was incredibly real.
Evie.
Franz.
Anya.
I had every reason to keep going, to push through. This wouldn’t last forever.
“Good morning.” Mom smiled from the kitchen. “Tea? Coffee?”
“Coffee.” I limped to the sofa. “Where’d they go? The hospital?”
Keeping a smile on her face, she handed me a mug of coffee. “Your family?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yes. Evelyn didn’t want to wake you, but she wanted to go see her mom, and she thought it would cheer Madeline up to see the kids. So your dad went with her to help out. Also, she wanted to see Lila before they transferred her to Denver.” She sat next to me on the sofa, angling her body toward me as she sipped her tea. “You’re going to have to tell her.”
Grunting a laugh, I gazed at the steam from my coffee. “I tried, but we got interrupted, and then everything just … happened. It’s not exactly a quick thing to explain.”
“Ronin …” Emotion filled my mom’s eyes. She had been strong for everyone else, but I knew she saw the fear in my eyes. I knew it at the hospital. It was my fear too. “Your heart stopped.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“That’s …” She shook her head, blinking back the tears. “That’s not how it works. You feel. That’s it. You don’t live it. You don’t actually die. Why did your heart stop beating?” She cupped her hand to her mouth, choking back a sob as the tears fell down her cheeks.
I didn’t know why my heart stopped. I felt the cracked ribs. My ribs didn’t break. My leg wasn’t broken. My face wasn’t lacerated. The bruises were tender, but they weren’t visible. I just felt things. I would live to feel an eternity of deaths, not actually die. That was the deal. So why the fuck did my heart stop when Lila went into cardiac arrest the second time?