Chapter 8: Chapter Eight
Rhea and Tia high-fived, screaming and bouncing as they jumped, holding each other’s hands. As they stepped out of the hospital premises onto the pavement.
Rhea pulled Tia into a hug, then cupped her face, placing kisses all over it. "I’m not dying anymore, Tia! I’m not dying!" She shouted, laughing through the tears caught in her lashes.
Tia couldn’t stop herself from smiling. If she were a cup, she’d have been overflowing with joy at the sheer reality of her friend not dying. "I told you! I told you we’d find a solution. Girl! You owe me a lifetime." She clung to Rhea, spinning her in a small circle before pulling back, grinning like her life depended on this moment.
Rhea laughed so hard that her chest heaved. "I don’t know what to say right now. Thank you, Tia. If not for you, I’d have been dying mostly because of my thoughts, not from the critical condition I was diagnosed with."
They both doubled over with laughter, as it rang across the street, drawing the attention of passersby, who wondered if they were crazy—why would two grown ass women, be laughing and crying at the same time. But neither of them cared. Their tears and joy were a glorious mess.
"We need to celebrate. No more being gloomy. You hear me? And now we can talk about a to-do list." Tia brushed Rhea’s hair back from her face.
Rhea wiped her eyes as she blinked back tears. "A to-do list?"
"Yes, and a better one at that," Tia said, eyes gleaming. "We’re going to add other things to it. But first, we have to celebrate."
"Definitely." Rhea snapped her fingers in the air.
"I’m ordering some food, cake, and, importantly, some drinks," Tia added, bringing out her phone from her bag.
"Yeah, I’ll be drowning in my victory tonight. My heart is no longer in the grave. But please make sure there’s no one-night stand or kissing a stranger, because I’ve had a very peculiar experience with strangers and a rich one at that." Rhea said jokingly.
Tia giggled. "I guess tonight, I’ll be the man you’re looking for: in finance, trust fund, six-pack, 6’4." She hummed a trending TikTok song as she counted her steps—catwalking.
*
Somewhere far in the distance, in a room devoid of any source of light or sound, only the glittering blue, water-sized pool illuminated the space. It was so dark inside that you couldn’t make out a face, even if you knew who was there.
But there were two men. One inside the pool, the other at its edge.
"She still doesn’t remember," said the one in the pool.
"Master, what will you do if she doesn’t remember?" the other asked.
The man within the water knitted his brow as his jaw hardened, but said nothing for minutes. Then he continued, "She has to." He turned his back on the other.
In a soft voice, the man at the edge added, "But Master, she may not believe you. You can tell from how different she is from before."
"She has to." His voice strained, as he lifted his gaze from the water, staring into the distance. "Or I’ll have to make her... remember me."
Suddenly, he grunted, then bent over, clutching his frame with both hands.
As his heart began to race, the water beneath him started to boil, not getting hot but becoming extremely cold.
"It’s time," the one standing at the rear of the pool said.
A gut-wrenching scream ripped from the throat of the man in the pool, followed by a painful growl—the kind from a hurting tiger, but from him instead. Then his breath became heavy as his body began to convulse. His skin began to peel off, flaking into the blue water and staining it red with his blood. Layers of flesh dissolved to the extent his organs were sickeningly visible. Then, suddenly, the process stopped, and his skin began to regenerate. This gruesome cycle repeated itself six more times before finally stopping. The water turned so dark you couldn’t tell if it was black or red from his blood.
Then two other men stepped into the room and assisted him out of the pool, then out of the room.
Rhea’s eyes slowly opened, peeking through her blurred vision. She blinked as she adjusted to the bright light, piercing through the blinds of the living room window.
As the room came into view, her head thumped, and her throat was dry as she swallowed. She stirred a little to the side as her eyes swam the room, scanning through the scattered empty bottles of wine and cans of beer, boxes of chicken and fries, party poppers, and glitter scattered everywhere. She noticed she must have slept in the living room.
She winced as she sat up on the couch, placing her hands over her pounding head, removing Tia’s legs from her body. Then she glanced at the dining/kitchen room at the clock hanging over the arched door.
"Shit! 10:20, Tia!" She shouted, her eyes snapped wide open. "We’re late!"
"Umm, I...late? To...to where?" Tia murmured between breaths, scratching her tummy.
"To school!" Rhea jumped over her, pushing her room door open.
"What do you mean by school? It’s weekend—SCHOOL!" Tia sprang up in an instant, taking off her clothes as she rushed towards her room.
They both burst through the lecture room door. By the time they got there, it was 11:00. Every face shot their way as they walked past the entrance into the class.
They scuffled hurriedly through the corner of the hall towards the end of the class, scanning for seats.
"Tia!" A voice whispered. "There’s a space here."
Rhea and Tia turned to the familiar voice direction.
"Thanks, Luke," they both chorused.
Under her breath, Rhea asked, "Why didn’t you call us when the class started?"
"I tried, but both of your lines weren’t going through." Luke picked up his bag and notebook from both seats as they sat down.
"Nice of you to join us... Miss...?" The lecturer’s voice cut through the class, directed at Rhea and Tia.
"George...Gunther..." they both replied quickly, their heads down, as they tried settling down.
"Something you want to share with us... Ms. George?" the lecturer added.
"I’m sorry, Sir," Rhea apologised, as their scrabbling noise in search of a pen kept echoing. Then she lifted her head, focusing on the voice from the front of the class.
Rhea froze.
What is he doing here!
She unconsciously stood up, followed by the sound of a fallen pen echoing through the eerie, still room.
She knew something was familiar about the voice earlier but didn’t pay mind to it.
She thought maybe it was from one of the lesser-known lecturers she’d attended his class before, and he was the one assigned to this module.
But no.
It was him.
Zeenare!
Standing on the podium, with a chain of glasses, a black suit, his extremely grey shoulder-length hair slicked back.
His sharp grey eyes stared straight at her, in flesh and in blood.