When Worlds Collide
Page 18
When Shawn's therapy failed, his behaviors soured like milk in the hot sun. Shawn's personality and behaviors morphed into my father’s. I crap you not; Shawn was a spitting image of the same man; my entire family hated. Because of this, my sympathy and patience for Shawn diminished by the day. Shawn was lazy and aggressive, but worst of all; he didn't appreciate anything, life included. It's challenging for you to understand, because you're alive, but imagine your life being directly ripped from under your feet, and wanting nothing more than a second chance. As you're aching for that new beginning, you're watching over your loved-one, while they wished they were dead. Trust me; this concept is enough to drive you mad. Instead of being a spiritual guide or a guardian angel, I started haunting Shawn, because quite frankly, I didn't like him. Shawn knew I was there, but he never told my mother. Seeing and talking to his dead sister made Shawn worse. The worse he got, the more I hated him. It was a vicious cycle, which I ended on the day of his pool party.
*
The day of Shawn's pool party was meant to be celebratory. However, Shawn's distorted thought process made it intolerable for me to watch. As a result, I made myself invisible to Shawn's friends, and hung out in the upstairs hallway. It's hard for me to believe how my mother felt, because she spent time, effort, and money just to make Shawn happy. And Shawn, during the pool party, was nothing other than an unappreciative, whiny, little bitch. As the party progressed, my blood boiled, and I thought, Shawn is going to provide the world with nothing positive, and destroy people in his path. Between wanting a second chance and watching Shawn waste away his life; I was on the verge of a mental breakdown. To avoid my overwhelming emotions, I did something impulsively. What I did was bad, reactive, and most definitely contagious. My disparities drove me to my first murder. My first murder victim, using the method of a heart-attack in a pool, was my brother, Shawn Walters.
When Shawn left the picnic table and ran into the house, he bumped into me in the upstairs hallway. Although there was a woman present, whom I didn’t recognize, I knew she didn’t have the ability to stop me. At that moment, I didn’t care any more. I expressed myself, and manipulated Shawn into the swimming pool. Not only did I manipulate Shawn; I tricked everyone else to go inside, so I could isolate my victim. When Shawn was in the pool, I allowed him several minutes to think, and when he was finished, I killed him.
*
Shawn's spirit and my own collided in the astral plane at the hospital. The both of us argued, and began to fight. Shawn understood I took his life because he continuously asked to die several times, but he decided to put forth a living effort, after it was too late. Trying my best to explain, you don’t deserve a body, Shawn's spirit overcame mine as his soul entered his corpse, causing it to convulse on the table. And when his body seized, the doctor observed a miracle, Shawn was alive. However, I wasn't giving up that easily. I figured; I might as well finish what I started. Once my brother opened his eyes, I apologized, and told him he would get a second chance, of course I didn't know if he would or not, but I wanted to ease his fear. After I spoke with him, I tore Shawn's soul out of his body, and threw it with hellacious force. Where he ended up, is anyone's guess. After tossing my brother's spirit to who-knows-where, I snatched his body, closed my new set of eyes, and fell asleep for the first time as Shawn Walters. I thought; I received my second chance that day at the hospital, but I was wrong.
*
When I returned home from the hospital, everything was hazy and confusing. Killing my brother really wasn't planned out too well, and I thought, I could forget my past, and live as Shawn Walters. However, I was wrong, terribly wrong. Trying to live as someone else when you remember exactly who you were is more frightening than any ole possession. My major problem, I couldn't adjust, and live with the guilt of killing Shawn, because I was reminded of him every time I looked into the mirror. I was falling apart and couldn't function because my past was enmeshed with my present. By the minute, I was bleeding through. And on the day of my suicide, literally, I did. When I tried to kill myself, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, and for the first time, I didn't see Shawn's face. I saw my own, exactly how I saw it on the day of my death, with blood pouring out of my eyes, mouth, and nose. I wanted to die, because I knew that I couldn't go on living behind Shawn's mask. It's crazy; I wanted a second chance so badly, never thinking I'd be the one haunting myself, making life impossible. When my suicide got interrupted, and I was forced to live in a lunatic asylum is when I hit rock bottom. When I sank to the bottom of the ocean, I wanted help, but I knew no one at Mountain Springs would be able. And just like an angel cast from the heavens, Patrick Lucid landed on my doorstep. Although Patrick was brought to me by a third party, and hope was on the horizon, I had a lot of work to accomplish, between me, myself, and I.
*
This brings us to present day. Throughout the past ten months, Patrick and I worked as a unit to heal my inner being. I've learned a lot from Patrick, and without his help, who knows what I'd be doing. I'm grateful for Patrick, and the third party who brought us together.
Could the third party be?
No, it couldn't be.
Anyway, with Patrick's assistance, I healed myself, and harnessed my astral projecting ability. Unlike Patrick, I'm not promising that I'll never haunt anyone again, but instead I'll make a valiant effort to take care of business in the psychological world first.
Momentarily, I will walk out of these damn locked doors of Mountains Springs; however, there remains one thing that I never understood.
Who killed me?
It's been in the back of my mind since my head exploded. I've talked to Patrick about it, and he didn't know. Yet, he reassured me if whoever killed me would come back; he’d be there.
*
Knock, knock, knock, I heard on my bedroom door.
"Shawn, are you coming?" Patrick asked, insinuating it was time for me to go.
"Of course," I replied, as I jumped off my bed.
Side by side, like two peas in a pod, Patrick and I walked through the hallways, and toward the main entrance, by the tall fake tree. Standing next to the retarded receptionist whom I still didn't like, was Doctor Bricker. Reaching out his hand, Doctor Bricker said, "Great work Shawn, we're all proud of you."
Understanding that Bricker meant what he said, I shook his hand, and replied, "Thank you. I'm really glad I had an opportunity to meet you."
After releasing our handshake, Doctor Bricker looked up at his old pal, and said, "Well, this is it Patrick. I appreciate your effort; you did a great job as well."
Patrick, instead of shaking Bricker's hand, hugged his good friend good-bye. Doctor Bricker, probably hoping he'll never see a case like mine again, looked at Patrick and said, "Well, until next time."
Patrick didn't respond, but returned a friendly smile. Because Patrick was quiet, I answered for him.
"There will be a next time, and his name is Cory Rivers."
And those were the last words I spoke at Mountain Springs.
It's hard saying good-bye to yesterday, but at some point, we must move forward in life. Because, with every second that ticks off the clock, we're one step closer to our new beginning. Standing in the parking lot next to Patrick and my mother, I can honestly say, my second chance had begun.
As I said before, you might find yourself in similar circumstances someday, and with-that-said, before you go judging anyone, just ask yourself, what would you do for a second chance?
Before I say goodbye and ride off into the sunset, I want you to remember one thing, in the end I succeeded, in the end Patrick succeeded, but I believe the battle isn't over.
Last but not least, I shared one more moment with Patrick. Before entering the front seat of my mother's vehicle, I embraced Patrick, demonstrating my appreciation for his effort. Most people would've given up on me, but not Patrick. I will always be grateful for this help, and at the drop of a dime, I'd have his back in a heartbeat. As I swiped a tear from my face,
Patrick told me, "Shawn, enjoy your travels."
In response, I smiled, and said, "Enjoy your travels as well. And maybe, just maybe, we'll cross paths someday."
Chapter 25
THE TIME HAS COME
21321 are the numbers that I wrote on Joy's bedroom mirror when she was at her mother’s house. I wrote these specific numbers because I knew Patrick would be able to interpret my message. My question, what does it mean? When communicating from the spiritual realm, it’s not easy, especially writing numbers while in the body of another person. Patrick should know, because he's done it before. This endeavor may be difficult to explain, so bear with me. If you're ever in the spiritual realm someday, and you possess a body to write on a mirror, this is what you'll experience. Although your spirit will be inside the body of another person, your visual perception, while standing in front of the mirror, won't be. If you can, pretend you are staring at someone from the other side of a mirror. If you can achieve this visualization, then you're capable of understanding my vantage point when I wrote the numbers 21321. Because my perception was coming from within the reflection, everything was backwards, along with the numbers that I wrote. As a result, when Joy disclosed the message that I gave her, Patrick interpreted 12312, not 21321. In-addition, Patrick realized that the numbers were symbolic for a specific date. The date in-which I direly needed to communicate, was December 3rd, 2012.
*
Patrick departed Mountain springs at three thirty in the afternoon, en route home to see Joy. Leaving Mountain Springs after Elizabeth received her second chance; Patrick's positive emotions were flowing like the Mighty Mississippi. Discharging a patient successfully is Patrick's ultimate goal. He believes, by changing one patient at a time, the world will be a better place. Elizabeth's effort was tremendous, obviously not a first, but she learned to trust, be honest, and work for what she needed. Everyone at some point in his or her life, or after-life, is going to want a second chance. Some panic and go about it the wrong way, while others, like me, design a marvelous and poetic plan. By now, you clearly understand I am the third party involved, who is responsible for the sweet madness in this story. Although the time is drawing near for me to unveil who I am, I'm going to wait a bit longer.
As I said, Patrick left Mountain Springs at three thirty in the afternoon, and in eleven hours, at two-thirty in the morning, December 3rd, 2012; Patrick and Joy's life will change forever. During the two-hour commute from Mountain Springs, Elizabeth's achievements had Patrick riding high, but in eleven hours, everything will come to a head, as Joy, and you the reader, will understand everything happens for a reason. The reason, Patrick understood long ago, but he didn't tell Joy, no surprise there.
Before Patrick returns home, I'll give you a little back story. A while ago, when Patrick was in the basement, he solved the riddle, and recorded my voice. Since then, I've discontinued haunting both Patrick and Joy. Although I stopped my spiritual communication, I kept tabs on them, but from a different place. Originally, I was in the darkness, but since Patrick understood what I needed and accepted it, I shifted my energy. Don't get me wrong, I'm no longer in the darkness, but I'm still in the dark. I can't see a damn thing, but I hear every word Patrick and Joy say. As well as hearing their words, I can feel their emotion.
How does it feel being able to experience someone's emotion?
Most of you have said to someone, I know how you're feeling.
Do you?
I'm not trying to be argumentative, but the odds are you don't know how someone is feeling. Being able to correspond what someone else is feeling requires a connection. Whether the connection is psychological, for example, sharing a mirroring experience, or spiritual, to feel someone's emotion there must be a bond. And with Patrick and Joy, my bond couldn't be any tighter. The sad part is, we’ve all had this ability, but when the bond was cut, sadly for most, it was never repaired.
Shortly after five-thirty in the afternoon, and nine hours remaining before lift-off, Patrick's SUV rolled into his driveway. In a rush, Patrick entered the front door to his home, leaving his keys in the door lock. Joy was asleep on the couch, not feeling well. Not wanting to wake her, Patrick didn't have a choice, because time was ticking.
Softly, Patrick tapped Joy on the shoulder, and whispered, "Joy wake up." She moved slightly, but Joy didn't come to be. This time with more force, Patrick shrugged both of her shoulders, and loudly stated, "Wake up!"
"What do you want baby?" Joy asked, in a sedated tone, after opening her eyes.
"Get up and get dressed, we have to go; we have to go now."
Sitting up slowly and I'm emphasizing the word slowly, Joy asked again, not understanding Patrick's high-octane demeanor, "Hey slow down baby, what’s the rush?"
Unable to slow himself, Patrick grabbed Joy's hand and pulled her off of the couch. Standing on her feet, Joy was clueless at the event taking place.
Applying pressure to the brakes, Joy shouted, "Stop! What the hell is going on?"
Patrick was brutally impatient, "Joy; we don't have time for this right now; we need to go!"
Joy, who was still holding Patrick's hand, let go, because he was pulling her towards the door.
"Where do we need to go in such a hurry?" Joy asked, as she was becoming increasingly irritable.
Now upstairs, Patrick was packing Joy's bag; thus, he didn't hear the question. Joy asked again, "Where do we need to go?"
Standing on the upstairs landing, Patrick shouted, "The hospital!"
Patrick and Joy were in the SUV; Patrick drove, taking the exact route to Helping Hands Hospital that Joy did during her possessed sleep walking experience. Joy didn't piece it together due to the circumstances, but Patrick did. The ride to the hospital for them was silent. The lack of communication wasn't because they were upset; Patrick and Joy were focused, visualizing the next step in their lives. For first timers, numerous thoughts burst through like fire-works on the fourth of July. The amount of responsibility to come is outlandish, and you wonder, can I actually do this? At the same time, you answer, of course I can. You know, there are many lessons attached to my story, but one of them, in particular, to reach something beautiful; you must work through the pain. Its effort and sacrifice that makes you appreciate life. Life is something precious, and unfortunately many fail to recognize how beautiful it is, because they forgot how mesmerizing the view was from the darkness. Psychologically, I've caused Patrick and Joy emotional pain. And now, I am causing Joy physical pain. My bond or connection couldn't be any better, because Patrick and Joy took the bull by the horns and sacrificed for me. And this is something I will never forget, not in a million years.
As Patrick pulled into Helping Hands Hospital, he parked his SUV in the same spot he did months ago, but this time Joy was under her own power.
Before getting out of the vehicle, Patrick placed his hand on Joy's leg, looked her directly in the eyes, and said, "I love you."
Replying, with a tear-drop trickle, Joy said, "I love you too."
Being able to feel their emotion from the dark, I said; although it went unheard, "I love both of you.”
Patrick helped Joy out of the SUV, where she stood waiting, while he found a parking spot. Jogging to the main entrance, Patrick grasped Joy's hand, and then guided her through the door of Helping Hands Hospital. As they entered, Patrick and Joy saw Janet, Michele, Patrick's mother, and Michael, Patrick's father. All of them were waiting patiently for their arrival.
Shocked, Joy asked Patrick, before they made their way to say hello, "How did they know to be here?"
Submissively, but pleasant, Patrick replied, "Oh; I called them months ago."
Continuing her slow and painful stride, Joy playfully replied, "I'm not even asking."
Hugs, hugs, and more hugs, Patrick and Joy were blissful to see their family. Michael, all smiles, said to Joy, "Are you ready for the big day?"
"I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be." Joy responded, ready to get the show on the road.
Without a well-to-do icebreaker, Patrick said to an intimidated Pastorio, "Joy's labor will start any second now, so I need you to admit her."
Pastorio scared to death of Patrick, hesitantly said, "Sir, until she's in labor, I'm not permitted to take her back."
Patrick, understanding hospital protocol, replied, "Pastorio, I want you to look at the clock, and countdown from ten seconds, when I tell you to."
Pastorio, uncertain of the game that Patrick was playing, didn't understand, and asked, "What? I don't get what you're doing."
"Just do it." Patrick demanded.
"Alright," Pastorio complied.
Pastorio looked at the clock, and verbally counted backwards from ten. After reaching number one, Joy, who was standing with her mother and Patrick's parents, went into labor, as her water broke. Pastorio saw it happen, and felt like he was in a science-fiction movie.