by Brianna G. Harte
“Was there anyone you recognized? Do you think your father or mother commanded the ship?” Odessa asked, her eyes entirely focused on me.
“There were only humans around,” I insisted. “When I ran from the ship, no one really seemed to notice, just like you, Wallace, and everyone else. I mean, before you fell. They had to be humans.”
“Do you think, maybe, you used to be human?”
I fell silent as I considered it. That wasn’t possible. Angels went to Heaven or Hell if they were good or bad – at least, that’s what Wallace had noted before. This couldn’t be either. They seemed to actually have memories whereas mine was gone, that is, if I had any before waking up on the ship. And none of them, besides Odessa, could touch me. But then again, I walked like them. I talked like them. Except for me being shorter than the majority, I looked like them.
“I understand that you might think there’s no plausible way for you to have been human, but you should just wait for a moment. Didn’t you say that you could read? The notes your friend Wallace -”
“He’s not my friend. He can’t see me.”
“In any case, you read his notes. If you weren’t human, you couldn’t have done that,” Odessa reasoned.
Before I could respond, heels clicked against the tiled floor. “Ms. Iggnahn?”
Odessa hesitantly turned her head to face the nurse. “Yes?”
The nurse, with her straight black hair pulled tightly into a bun and teal scrubs loosely covering her body, stood before us, clipboard and pen in hand. Nearly black eyes bore into Odessa, seeming as cold as they were curious. Her invisible smile did not make her any more friendly. I felt uncomfortable for Odessa. The nurse tapped her pen against the clipboard as she exchanged glances at her patient and the notes taken on the paper.
“How are you feeling?” she asked while recording information on the monitors above Odessa’s head.
“You took quite a fall earlier. I’m just going to check the bump again to see if anything has changed.” The nurse gently pushed aside Odessa’s hair to uncover the bump and wrote something on the paper, leaving a sight akin to a bird’s nest in place of the pulled back hair from before. “Who have you been talking to, Miss?”
“To myself,” Odessa said, not looking at me.
I tried to not get annoyed at this. Who knew where the nurse would send her if she said she was talking to a ghost?
“Are you certain? You’ve been talking for over an hour.”
“Is it your business as to if I talk to myself or not?” Odessa asked in a harsher tone.
“Yes it is,” the nurse asked.
Just then, the lights started to flicker.
Copyright © 2015 Brianna G. Harte. All rights reserved.