Read Online Forgotten Self (Forgotten Self #1) by Rachel Carr - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachel Carr
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tricky. That scar can lead a soul to choose things he or she would not have chosen otherwise in their human lives.”
“ But, I mean, how often can that happen?”
Jonathan lets out a low whistle. “Well,” he starts.
I sit up straighter. “Don't tell me. It's good versus evil related, righ t?”
He nods. “It's not just a temporary biological death that can scar a person. A demon can damage a person's soul, too.”
I lean my head back, contemplating. “Before we go any further, Jon, I need to know something.”
“ What's that?”
“ Why are you here? And, if I'm an angel like you say I am, why am I here?”
A guy from the nearest tow trucking company pulls my car slowly out of the ditch. When the front is visible, it's clear that there's more damage than I thought. “Damn.” I bite my lip. .
Jonathan had l eft after telling me he'd explain everything later. When I say left, I mean he disappeared. One second he was there, the next he was not. No breath of air or noise whatsoever. Creepy, creepy, creepy. But I shove all my fears and misgivings down. Now is the time to be strong and being numb helps. Yes it does.
The towing man waits as I try my ignition. To my undying gratefulness, the car starts up. I hand him a hundred and drive home. On the way, the scraping sound of bent metal on pavement jars my thoughts. My bumper had suffered the worst in my little ditch run-in. “Fabulous,” I say as drivers honk and pedestrians stop to stare at the sparks created by the twisted bumper. I wave and smile. “Yes, yes,” I say through clenched teeth. “Enjoy.”
When I finally get home, it is quiet and eerily still. The fridge doesn't even do its popping thing. I plop onto the couch and switch on the television for some distraction. I don't want to think about things right now. CNN is still the channel that first comes on. I see th e picture of a burning building and the caption “Fifteen Dead in Factory Fire.” Blech. I switch to Nickelodeon. Spongebob is on, something I used to watch a lot in junior high. No shame.
Spongebob is jelly-fishing when I hear Jonathan's soft voice beside m e. “I've seen this episode.” He smiles.
Having since resigned myself to the fact that Jonathan could pop in and out of wherever as he pleased, I am not startled. “I love the jellies,” I tell him.
We are silent for a while as we watch the various mishaps th at Spongebob and his crew encounter. When there is a commercial break, I mute the television. I don't move my eyes from the screen as I ask, “So, you here to finish our talk?”
“ I am here to answer your questions, yes.”
I shove the afghan covering me aside and sit up. Coolly, I watch him and say, “You could answer the ones you didn't when you left the car.”
“ Yes. Well...” He rubs his chin.
“ You know, for an angel, you sure do have a lot of human-like tics.”
Jonathan smirks and drops his hand to his lap. “I have been around for a long time, Abigail. Those tics are not hard to pick up.”
“ Did you live with a family while you were here? How did you grow up if you're already old? I mean, I assume you're old.”
“ Very,” he responds.
I file that little tidbit away fo r later. “So how did you do it?”
“ I lived alone. Sometimes as this adult being, and otherwise, at school and with you, I was a child. We can change appearance as we please. It's a sort of a comfort thing to help us do our jobs. We are whomever our assignme nt feels most comfortable with.”
“ What do you actually look like?”
He smiles smoothly. “I'll show you sometime.”
I frown. “And what about me? How did the other me in that memory look like me now?”
“ I showed you an image you'd know.”
Okay...
There is silen ce for a moment and then I blurt out, “Was I in a car accident at the beginning of the summer?”
“ Yes.”
“ And was it you that saved me?”
“ Yes.”
“ Are you my guardian angel?”
Again, he smiles.
“ But, I mean, how often can that happen?”
Jonathan lets out a low whistle. “Well,” he starts.
I sit up straighter. “Don't tell me. It's good versus evil related, righ t?”
He nods. “It's not just a temporary biological death that can scar a person. A demon can damage a person's soul, too.”
I lean my head back, contemplating. “Before we go any further, Jon, I need to know something.”
“ What's that?”
“ Why are you here? And, if I'm an angel like you say I am, why am I here?”
A guy from the nearest tow trucking company pulls my car slowly out of the ditch. When the front is visible, it's clear that there's more damage than I thought. “Damn.” I bite my lip. .
Jonathan had l eft after telling me he'd explain everything later. When I say left, I mean he disappeared. One second he was there, the next he was not. No breath of air or noise whatsoever. Creepy, creepy, creepy. But I shove all my fears and misgivings down. Now is the time to be strong and being numb helps. Yes it does.
The towing man waits as I try my ignition. To my undying gratefulness, the car starts up. I hand him a hundred and drive home. On the way, the scraping sound of bent metal on pavement jars my thoughts. My bumper had suffered the worst in my little ditch run-in. “Fabulous,” I say as drivers honk and pedestrians stop to stare at the sparks created by the twisted bumper. I wave and smile. “Yes, yes,” I say through clenched teeth. “Enjoy.”
When I finally get home, it is quiet and eerily still. The fridge doesn't even do its popping thing. I plop onto the couch and switch on the television for some distraction. I don't want to think about things right now. CNN is still the channel that first comes on. I see th e picture of a burning building and the caption “Fifteen Dead in Factory Fire.” Blech. I switch to Nickelodeon. Spongebob is on, something I used to watch a lot in junior high. No shame.
Spongebob is jelly-fishing when I hear Jonathan's soft voice beside m e. “I've seen this episode.” He smiles.
Having since resigned myself to the fact that Jonathan could pop in and out of wherever as he pleased, I am not startled. “I love the jellies,” I tell him.
We are silent for a while as we watch the various mishaps th at Spongebob and his crew encounter. When there is a commercial break, I mute the television. I don't move my eyes from the screen as I ask, “So, you here to finish our talk?”
“ I am here to answer your questions, yes.”
I shove the afghan covering me aside and sit up. Coolly, I watch him and say, “You could answer the ones you didn't when you left the car.”
“ Yes. Well...” He rubs his chin.
“ You know, for an angel, you sure do have a lot of human-like tics.”
Jonathan smirks and drops his hand to his lap. “I have been around for a long time, Abigail. Those tics are not hard to pick up.”
“ Did you live with a family while you were here? How did you grow up if you're already old? I mean, I assume you're old.”
“ Very,” he responds.
I file that little tidbit away fo r later. “So how did you do it?”
“ I lived alone. Sometimes as this adult being, and otherwise, at school and with you, I was a child. We can change appearance as we please. It's a sort of a comfort thing to help us do our jobs. We are whomever our assignme nt feels most comfortable with.”
“ What do you actually look like?”
He smiles smoothly. “I'll show you sometime.”
I frown. “And what about me? How did the other me in that memory look like me now?”
“ I showed you an image you'd know.”
Okay...
There is silen ce for a moment and then I blurt out, “Was I in a car accident at the beginning of the summer?”
“ Yes.”
“ And was it you that saved me?”
“ Yes.”
“ Are you my guardian angel?”
Again, he smiles.
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