Read Online Saphora: vol.1 Retention (The Athena Universe) by Jaz Johnson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jaz Johnson
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where. You were speaking gibberish and beginning to get violent when Fran couldn’t understand you,” he began, coming towards the bedside where Fran sat. He stood behind Fran, looking down at Saphora. “She called me when you weren’t settling down, for help. I gave you a shot to calm you. And you’ve been asleep since.”
“Why can’t I remember?” Saphora asked agitatedly.
Dr. Lupin shook his head nonchalantly.
“Remember what, exactly?” he asked, almost immediately after her question. Saphora’s eyes narrowed at him, a wrinkle forming on the bridge of her nose. “Fran told me you fell. You were pretty banged up when I arrived … Did you hit your head when you fell?”
Saphora’s head shook somewhat, as she tried to calm h erself long enough to listen what he was saying. Hit my head? She thought back to crashing into the tree, and then falling out of another one when she had attempted to fly again. And then tripping over the uplifted root onto the ground. It was quite possible that she could have hit her head in the mists of all that.
“I … Maybe. I don’t know ,” she said as she raised her hand to search her scalp for any bumps or dents. There were none that she could find, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t hit her head. It was the next day, after all. Lupin nodded, shifting his weight onto his other leg.
“Saphora, I believe that you were hallucinating.”
Saphora smiled. She didn’t know why. But she smiled as she shook her head in protest. Fran watched her carefully.
“What – no, I … I know what I-“
“You may not have been aware of it, but I believe the dreams – your memory, was putting a stress on you. You were desperate to remember. I think the hit to your head may have triggered the hallucinations. But instead of remembering the past, you created a present with the characters.”
Saphora’s temple pinged in denial. Created? No, what? She shook her head, lowering it and staring at her bare feet. Trying to remember clearly what had happened in the woods, her eyes squinted. She couldn’t. Not clearly, anyway.
“No – But … What about the truck? The house?” Saphora looked up at them both. Panic in her voice. “The house was destroyed! I was …”
Lupin tilted his head to the side, taking one hand out of his pocket to push his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.
“You were what?” he asked curiously. The memory of the wall crashing down on that poor man flooded her mind, along with the house’s ultimate undoing. She shook her head, her body feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion. She was fighting with what her brain was telling her, and what she was presently being told. Was she hallucinating? All of it? She looked down at her arms. Her legs. At the scratches and bruises that covered them. Could all that have been from falling?
“I … was there. I saw that man die. The house,” she shook her head. “It was destroyed. What about the house?” she questioned, not yet looking back up at them. Lupin sighed, putting his hand back into his pocket.
“Yes. The owner of the truck. A Mr. Gary Jones. He’s dead.” Lupin agreed.
Fran swung her head up in Lupin’s direction. Her eyes wide and her lips parted. She had been fearing the worst. And there it was – spoken. The owner of the mystery truck was dead. She had hoped that he was still alive.
“What? He’s dead?” she asked, even after hearing the answer. Lupin nodded, and she lowered her head to look back at Saphora. This led to even more haunting questions. “How did he die?” she asked, a bit short of breath as she squeezed on her hand, which had lowered to Saphora’s hand. With the condition that Saphora was currently in, who was to say that Saphora didn’t harm the man enough to lead to his death in her distraught state of mind? Dr. Lupin had told Fran that with her hallucinating about this man, she could have seen his face, instead of Gary Jones. And with her thinking that the man was
“Why can’t I remember?” Saphora asked agitatedly.
Dr. Lupin shook his head nonchalantly.
“Remember what, exactly?” he asked, almost immediately after her question. Saphora’s eyes narrowed at him, a wrinkle forming on the bridge of her nose. “Fran told me you fell. You were pretty banged up when I arrived … Did you hit your head when you fell?”
Saphora’s head shook somewhat, as she tried to calm h erself long enough to listen what he was saying. Hit my head? She thought back to crashing into the tree, and then falling out of another one when she had attempted to fly again. And then tripping over the uplifted root onto the ground. It was quite possible that she could have hit her head in the mists of all that.
“I … Maybe. I don’t know ,” she said as she raised her hand to search her scalp for any bumps or dents. There were none that she could find, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t hit her head. It was the next day, after all. Lupin nodded, shifting his weight onto his other leg.
“Saphora, I believe that you were hallucinating.”
Saphora smiled. She didn’t know why. But she smiled as she shook her head in protest. Fran watched her carefully.
“What – no, I … I know what I-“
“You may not have been aware of it, but I believe the dreams – your memory, was putting a stress on you. You were desperate to remember. I think the hit to your head may have triggered the hallucinations. But instead of remembering the past, you created a present with the characters.”
Saphora’s temple pinged in denial. Created? No, what? She shook her head, lowering it and staring at her bare feet. Trying to remember clearly what had happened in the woods, her eyes squinted. She couldn’t. Not clearly, anyway.
“No – But … What about the truck? The house?” Saphora looked up at them both. Panic in her voice. “The house was destroyed! I was …”
Lupin tilted his head to the side, taking one hand out of his pocket to push his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose.
“You were what?” he asked curiously. The memory of the wall crashing down on that poor man flooded her mind, along with the house’s ultimate undoing. She shook her head, her body feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion. She was fighting with what her brain was telling her, and what she was presently being told. Was she hallucinating? All of it? She looked down at her arms. Her legs. At the scratches and bruises that covered them. Could all that have been from falling?
“I … was there. I saw that man die. The house,” she shook her head. “It was destroyed. What about the house?” she questioned, not yet looking back up at them. Lupin sighed, putting his hand back into his pocket.
“Yes. The owner of the truck. A Mr. Gary Jones. He’s dead.” Lupin agreed.
Fran swung her head up in Lupin’s direction. Her eyes wide and her lips parted. She had been fearing the worst. And there it was – spoken. The owner of the mystery truck was dead. She had hoped that he was still alive.
“What? He’s dead?” she asked, even after hearing the answer. Lupin nodded, and she lowered her head to look back at Saphora. This led to even more haunting questions. “How did he die?” she asked, a bit short of breath as she squeezed on her hand, which had lowered to Saphora’s hand. With the condition that Saphora was currently in, who was to say that Saphora didn’t harm the man enough to lead to his death in her distraught state of mind? Dr. Lupin had told Fran that with her hallucinating about this man, she could have seen his face, instead of Gary Jones. And with her thinking that the man was
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