Savage (Daughters of the Jaguar) (12 page)

Then I looked in between the trees and saw the most beautiful sight of my entire young life. The yellow glowing eyes of my jaguar staring right at me.

I was still significantly shaken when I returned to my bed right after dawn. Mrs. Kirk was already up and eating in the kitchen when I sneaked through the front door. She didn’t see me. I threw myself on my bed and put the comforter over my head. My article was on the nightstand in a big envelope ready to be sent to the editor later that day. As I closed my eyes the images of my jaguar falling dead towards the ground kept flashing before my eyes. I relived how its long muscular legs shivered and trembled, the blood dripping in threads from the wound where the bullet had pierced the royal skin, the eyes that went cloudy in agony. My heart kept beating faster and I couldn’t fall asleep. What was it I had seen out there? Why had I seen it? It had been so vivid that there had been no doubt in my mind it was real. No doubt whatsoever. And yet it wasn’t there. It wasn’t real. I closed my eyes again trying to fall asleep but my thoughts kept me awake. I was beginning to suspect that there could be something really terribly wrong with me. Could my brain have suffered damage after all from drowning? Had something happened to my brain that the doctors hadn’t been able to detect? Something wasn’t right, that was for sure. Maybe it was one of those aneurisms that my father had spoken of so often. I knew they could be in your brain for years and you wouldn’t even notice it. It could be pressing on something vital in my brain, causing me to see things that weren’t even there. I remembered my dad talking about cases like that. Was that what it was? Could it be one of those blood-filled balloon-like bulges in the wall of a blood vessel that occurs in arteries at the base of the brain?

I never got any sleep that morning or during the day for that matter. Not because of the many thoughts and questions in my head, not because of the voices or images that wouldn't quiet down, but because I was suddenly startled by a massive turmoil going on downstairs. I heard lots of yelling and screaming and jumped out of bed. The commotion was taking place in the hall, I realized, as I stormed down the thick-carpeted stairs. The front door was open where a man had entered and was now grabbing Mrs. Kirk by the throat and pushing her backwards. Her head cracked into the wall as the man was pressing her back up against it, trying to strangle her. The man was yelling words like a madman that made no sense, while Mrs. Kirk made nothing but sputtering noises trying to fight the man off of her with kicks aimed at his crouch and while reaching with both hands for the man’s face. Maria was standing next to the uproar hitting her small fists into the sides of the man while screaming like an Amazon warrior. Feeling an incredible strength almost animal-like I leaped from the middle-section of the stairs with a snarl and jumped right on top of the attacker’s back. I rammed my fist into the man’s face and neck, causing him to give up his grip on Mrs. Kirk’s throat so he could try  to fight me off instead. He yelled as Mrs. Kirk fell to the ground. While I placed a perfect series of hard punches on the top and sides of his head I saw Maria grab for a big lamp on a table. With a scream she swung it towards him and hit him right in the face. Seconds later, he passed out and I tumbled onto the marble-tiles with him. 

I jumped to look at Mrs. Kirk who was breathing but not conscious. As I had seen my jaguar do it, I got on my legs and looked at the man, the attacker, my prey, with victory while circling his body to make sure he wasn’t about to attack again. I took the lamp in my hand. I wanted to be ready for him in case he got back up. Maria was still panting heavily as she grabbed the phone and called for help.

Mrs. Kirk regained consciousness as the police and ambulance arrived with sirens that filled the neighborhood with a noise and turmoil that caused people to gather outside of the house. Paramedics were lifting her on a stretcher and someone put an oxygen mask on her and started to examine her on the spot. The police radios were crackling as they asked for a second ambulance for the attacker.

Maria started explaining what happened to the officers. The man had rung the doorbell right after she was done cleaning up after breakfast, which was normally around eight thirty. She had opened the door and there he was asking to see Dr. Kirk.

“He told me he was a friend of the family,” she cried.

The officer placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her down.

“Mrs. Kirk came to the door to talk to him and he said that he had to speak to the doctor right away,” Maria said, still in tears. “I realized then that he wasn’t a friend; Mrs. Kirk didn’t even know him. When she said that it wasn’t possible to talk to the doctor, that he was at the clinic and he would be able to reach him there, the man went crazy. He started yelling all these terrible things at her and then he …" Maria sobbed and wiped away tears with a handkerchief. “Then he grabbed her by the throat and pressed her up against that wall.” She pointed at the wall where threads of blood revealed that Mrs. Kirk had hit her head pretty hard. I remember feeling an anxiety inside only hoping that she would be all right. Oh, dear God, let her be all right. I’d come to care for this woman a lot more than I had realized. After all, she had become the closest thing I had to a mother in nine years. I had enjoyed that tremendously.

“I know who he is,” a voice said coming from the door. It was Dr. Kirk who had rushed from his clinic as soon as Maria had called them and let them know what had happened.

“He is a patient that I had to refuse treatment. He couldn’t pay and had no insurance. It is a tragic, really. He is going blind.”

After the police had taken the doctor’s statement, I explained my part. That I had been woken up by the noise of people screaming and then ran to help. Maria interrupted and told them I had been a real hero, jumping like a wild beast from the stairs.  I felt the doctor’s eyes on me as we walked out to the ambulance while Mrs. Kirk was being transported. Just as the stretcher with Mrs. Kirk disappeared into the back of the ambulance and they asked the doctor if he wanted to go with her, he grabbed me and hugged me close.

“Thank you, son,” he whispered with an unintended tenderness in his voice. I could tell he was fighting to hold back tears.

“It was nothing, really,” I said.

“It was certainly something to me and my family,” he said before he jumped inside of the ambulance and they drove off with sirens wailing.

 Maria and I stood speechless for a long time outside of the house while the police finished their job securing evidence inside. Thoughts were again circling in my head as I realized that I had actually known this was going to happen. I had seen it at the hospital when Mrs. Kirk had come to visit me. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe and bent forwards in agony trying to catch my breath.

“What is wrong, Chris. Are you alright?” Maria asked. She put a hand on my back.

I nodded while trying to keep calm inside. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and Maria grabbed me and hugged me tight with her strong yet small arms. I figured she thought I was crying because of what had happened, because I was worried about Mrs. Kirk. That was one reason, but there was another thing that felt like it was slowly tearing me to pieces from the inside. I had no idea what was going on with me. As I slowly calmed down I raised my head and Maria let go of me.

“She’ll be alright, you wait and see, Chris. Dr. Kirk will see to it that she’ll be just fine. He is an important man around here and they will listen to him,” Maria said while holding onto both of my hands.

I nodded. “I know.” I let her calm me down even though she had no idea what had made me sad in the first place. I wanted her comfort. I desperately needed it. I felt so alone in this. So incredibly isolated.

As soon as I felt a little better, my eyes were drawn forcefully towards something. It was as if it was pulling in me strongly. I felt that something or someone was staring at me from afar. Not just staring, but studying me, seizing my every move and feeling my every emotion. It was like someone was calling for me, whispering my name in the gentle wind. I turned and saw the little girl with the brown ringlets that I had seen having a tea party in the garden. She was standing outside of the house on the corner lot with her hands behind her back. She was looking at me with an intensity that made me feel like she was seeing right through me, like she knew me or knew my every thought. I felt a pinch in my heart and had goose bumps running down my spine that made my body chill. Next to her in the air floated a doll with brown hair exactly like hers, its empty eyes wide open—staring directly at me.

Chapter 14

I stared back at the girl for a long time. She stood motionless and with no expression on her face. I felt my heart race in my chest. I was getting tired of this game. What did she want from me? Why did she keep staring at me?

I saw her older sister, the stunning girl about my age, come out of the house. I watched as she walked down the stairs and went to her sister, kneeling in front of her and talking to her. But the younger sister never took her eyes off of me and eventually the older sister turned her head and looked at me as well. That was when I made a decision I have never regretted since. In fact, you could say that I am eternally gratified that I did. It sort of sealed my destiny, if you will.

With long determined steps, I walked towards the mansion with the majestic windows. I pushed the big iron gate open and walked past the beautiful mythological women that looked like they were dancing in a circle, past the flowers that grew like they were wild all over the garden and turned the place into an explosion of colors and wonderful smells of summer. I went directly up to the house and towards the two girls. The older sister smiled at me as I came closer. My voice was shaking as I spoke.

“Why do you keep staring at me like this?” I asked the younger sister. She wasn’t as beautiful as her older sister, she was more skinny and lanky, and hadn’t obtained the grace her sister owned yet, but she had the same melancholic eyes and dark skin that made you think about sandy beaches and ocean winds. The girl didn’t answer me or even change the expression on her face. She just stared at me continuously with her deep brown, beautiful almost Arabic eyes. I looked at the older one and felt a pinch in my heart from her beauty. I now understood the expression “to be left breathless.” Just by looking at her I felt my heart beat even faster, threatening to jump out of my chest. I felt my cheeks blush, either from shyness or anger. “Your sister keeps staring at me,” I said to her. “It is really annoying.”

The older sister didn’t speak either. She only smiled enchantingly at me like she was about to burst into a big laughter. That made me even more furious.

“Did she do this to me?” I asked. “Did she somehow do something to me?”

Still no one was answering me. I found it extremely annoying and I felt the anger rise even higher inside of me. Like a volcano of fire I burst out at them: “Did she put some kind of curse on me? Like some kind of voodoo-trick or something? A spell? Well did she? ‘Cause strange things have happened to me lately. I am seeing things, I am hearing voices and now … now … this. I think I am even seeing the future! ” 

Both sisters stared at me for a while and I was afraid that I had been too violent in my outburst. Then the older burst into a childlike laughter.

I felt confused.

“Do you know that your nose wiggles when you get mad?” she asked.

Her remark took me completely off guard. I was speechless. Dumbfounded even. How was I supposed to react? The air went off the balloon, so to speak. I looked at these two girls in front of me and realized that I had been completely inappropriate in my reaction. I smiled.

“I am sorry,” I said and reached out my hand. “Let’s start again. My name is Christian, I am living with your neighbors next door. Everybody calls me Chris.”

The older sister gave me her hand and I touched her soft skin as I shook it gently. My heart was pounding with joy just by looking into her light brown eyes.

“Then I shall call you Christian,” she said.

I stared at her. No one had called me that since my mother died. Normally people preferred the shorter version. Hearing her say my name with her slightly singing voice made my heart jump. It sounded exactly like my mother used to say it.

“What’s your name?” I asked the younger sister. She stared up at me with her warm, dark brown eyes like she was about to answer me, but she remained quiet.

“Halona doesn’t talk,” the older sister said. “She hasn’t spoken a word ever since she predicted how I am going to die.”

I went quiet, out of words. I had no idea what to say. I had never heard anyone talk like this, talk about things like this in that way. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I am Aiyana,” the older sister continued. “It is a Native American name and means eternal blossom. Halona means of happy fortune. She got that name because my mother was in a car accident when she was still pregnant and therefore thought that if a child could survive that it had to be of happy fortune. The shock of the accident caused my mother’s body to go into labor two months too early and everybody thought Halona would surely be born dead, especially when she came out of the stomach without a sound. Since she wasn’t screaming like other babies, the midwife thought she was in fact dead and she checked her heartbeat and found none. She wasn’t even breathing. Her face had turned blue. Nobody thought she was alive except for my mother, Wyanet. She knew she was alive. She had dreamt about her the night before and knew she was coming. She kept telling them that Halona was alive but the doctors thought she was just a confused, unhappy woman and started comforting her instead of taking care of the baby. That was when Halona started screaming from the top of her lungs. She just didn’t like the attention, my mom used to say. And she has been like that ever since. She is the quiet one of us and that often makes her even more the center of attention than the rest of us. For some reason people always wants to win her over and try to get her to talk. The rest of us have given up a long time ago. It is not that there is something wrong with her, the doctors say. She has just decided not to speak anymore. She just stopped letting words come out. Right after she told me how I was going to die.”