Me Without You Read online

  He was jealous… But everything was true. Jonah was still very much concern about him. She was still very persistent in knowing how Xavier was. Indeed, it was very clear that Xavier was special.

  From the sidelines, Hugh could see the smite, still lingering in the atmosphere, heading towards him. In between trying to lure the smite away from Xavier and him and acting as if the smite wasn't there at all so that Xavier and the rest wouldn't be alarmed, the panic arose swiftly. He had no idea what to do anymore.

  Calm down…don't panic. Hugh told himself as if it will get a grip on him and whip his thoughts about Xavier and Jonah. Calm down… he repeated the line to himself.

  What seemed like a foot away before the smite was over him, his phone vibrated doggedly. He stood up and almost ran for the door.

  "I'll just answer this outside," Hugh told Xavier, getting his phone out of his pocket.

  X-girlfiend…

  There was still the shadowy movement on Hugh's side, following him, when he reached the corridor outside of the clinic. Although, he was having goosebumps all over and any minute he will begin to involuntary quiver the odd feeling he had inside, the seemingly black breath was just suspended in the air.

  "You're not answering my messages," Jonah's voice came through from the other end. She sounded really angry and impatient. "Would you like me to camp outside of your door again? This time, I will be putting chains on myself."

  Hugh couldn't help but laughed. He felt good hearing her voice even when she was not in her best mood. Slowly, the horizon cleared from behind the corner of his eyes. And he felt warm all over.

  "I don't think you will be getting the 411 from me anymore. Just wait for X to tell you himself. He's getting well. This is the last of his session and so far so good." He told her brightly. Then, he frowned a bit. In case, the smite returned again, he concentrated on hearing Jonah's voice on the other end of the line.

  "So why haven't you bothered texting me back?" Jonah demanded. Hugh could almost imagine her, pouting like a little girl. And the smile was on his face again. The X-girlfiend was growing into him.

  Chapter 4

  The Recluse

  Hugh carefully tugged at the sheet to free from Xavier's hard clasp as he sat on the bed. Hugh heaved out a sigh of relief. Xavier must have thrown up everything he had inside of him. And what was to throw when he hadn't eaten anything.

  It must have hurt…Hugh reflected aching for Xavier. But X never cussed…never complained.

  Then, Xavier had the worst chill ever until he had fallen asleep. He had gripped the edge of the bed sheet during the convulsions and he never let go even when he had fallen asleep. He was lying on his left side, curled like a crooked hook.

  Fortunately, it was the last of the chemotherapy sessions that Xavier had to undergo ever since his diagnosis of leukemia. But there will be future round of cycles and radiation therapy if things did not go well. And things can not go well. Even then, what Xavier had to go through was something nobody could get accustomed to, not even after undergoing a thousand cycles.

  "Hugh, don't get too close—" Gilda Byrne hissed. She was in her mid-sixties. Her white hair shone even from the dark corner of the room where she sat. "You'll make it worse for our dear boy, Xavier."

  Helen went to stand next to Hugh and patted his shoulder fondly. "Gilda, can't you see X calms only when Hugh is around."

  "Hugh is a healer, Helen!" Gilda said. "There's no way it can agree with what people call medicine now a days. It will only bring havoc to our dear boy, Xavier."

  Helen ran her hand through Hugh's hair and smiled. "Did you take something for your headache?" she asked.

  Hugh bent forward and got the tablet from the bedside table. He raised it for Helen to see and grinned slightly, "Guess, I forgot about it," he said.

  "Well, take it now before things get worse," Helen left her spot and went to close the heavy curtains.

  "Okay, Mom!" Hugh answered to pacify Helen. Ever since, Xavier got sick, Helen got strained out even for the slightest pain.

  If it hadn't been for the smite Hugh encountered earlier, he wouldn't have been suffering from a throbbing head that seemed to have a bug running inside it, bursting with pain. And Helen wouldn't have to worry about him when she had already got a lot on her plate.

  "You, yourself can do something with your little complains. Those are little toxins," Gilda niggled. "I don't understand today's medicine. They are designed to kill."

  Hugh looked at the woman exasperatedly before he sighed and said, "Please!"

  "Don't use that tone on me!" the woman seethed. "You're such a lazy boy! You never cared about practicing your healing muscle. You might as well not have been endowed with the gift."

  Hugh raised his hands in surrender and shrugged his shoulders indifferently. "Fine," he said in between his teeth as he continued to toy with the little tablet in his hand.

  Gilda was right about his healing prowess. For then again, there were instances in the past which really affirmed to him about his gifts, even if he never really took Gilda or about his healing abilities seriously. Hugh got it from her. She was also a healer. And Gilda always prodded him that he was lucky to have the gift because not all of the healer's children were endowed to heal. In fact, some of these children killed their own parents to have the gift of healing. But Hugh had to seal it yet.

  In this world, this type of healing was crap. For this reason, Hugh was motivated to go to medical school to back up the woo-hoo stuff with the sciences and Gilda never approved of it. It was his dream to introduce such an alternative way of curing sick people and being rationally accepted for it.

  How can Hugh take it seriously? Even if Gilda was his biological mother, a lot of rumormongers considered her an old, spiteful crazy recluse. And a lot of times, Hugh had to agree.

  Tales behind Gilda's back had made its rounds why she had chosen to become elusive to the public for almost two decades. Some people claimed she would burn when exposed to the sun because of a severe illness in the skin. Others assumed she was really a witch who needed to stay away from daylight.

  Hugh had his own judgment why Gilda was not quite visible outside of her mansion. He was convinced she really took it to heart that she bore a child at an age when she was supposed to be wiser, without a husband to show for. The humiliation was probably too great that she had lost face to live a normal life.

  Hugh contemplated. He had never asked anything about his father. And nobody even dared. It wasn't that he was not interested to find out about his father. It was just that, he would bet his head off if he can extract the information from Gilda. Even asking around from Helen or somebody else was frightening, in case Gilda found out about it.

  There was also the rift between the Blood Family. Even though Hugh didn't have all the details and it may be a hush-hush reality but it was possible that could have accounted for Gilda being a recluse. While Rebecca Blood can be seen almost everywhere from the newspaper to socialite functions, Gilda had opted to bury herself inside her house until she was almost as white as snow.

  "It is not a coincidence that this is the last chemo session that our dear boy Xavier has to take," Gilda addressed Helen , who took the chair near the window. "He is on his way to recovery."

  Helen smiled and said, "Oh, Gilda! God has answered my prayers. Xavier will be well soon."

  "This has nothing to do with God, Helen," Gilda said triumphantly. "Rebecca is dying and Xavier will be free from her curse."

  As Hugh listened half-heartedly to the conversation between the two women, he looked at Xavier's outline. There were some things that he envied about Xavier like having Helen as a mother.

  And there was Jonah… Hugh thought.

  Bringing Jonah back into Hugh's thoughts made him winced and smiled at the same time. His nose wrinkled as he remembered. He quickly looked around him, noting if anybody noticed his reaction.

  Meeting Jonah was probably one of the more complex events in his life. He did not k
now whether to cherish it or delete it from his memory altogether. When Xavier knew of his sickness he just dropped her off like a hot potato.

  And Hugh had been there wanting to pick her up. Unfortunately, he burned himself in the process. Her anger had become his pain…her pain—his sorrow.

  Even though, he wanted to take care of her himself, he thought Jonah would prefer Xavier by her side. Xavier was getting well and everything will go back to the way it was once before he entered the picture.

  And before it became too painful for him, he knew he had to let go off her.

  Yeah, leave her alone… It was even timely because he signed up for a program in school that will get him away from the house…away from Gilda…away from Jonah.

  "Ugh!" he blurted out before he could stop himself. She would really hate me…it was exactly what Xavier did—left her.

  "Is something wrong?" Helen asked him suddenly, looking alarmed.

  "Nothing," Hugh told her, feeling the embarrassment running like a hot flash all over his body.

  "Please, Hugh—take something for that headache of yours. Or do something before it gets—" Helen started to say.

  "Heal yourself—" Gilda interrupted."Be prepared. I had the same dream of the falling teeth for several days now. And it has never failed its message every time I do—death. The greatest healer is to die soon. I am going to need you then to find the new healer in line."

  Without looking at Gilda, Hugh asked, "How can you be sure that your dream pertains to the greatest healer?" He looked at Xavier meaningfully. "It could be someone else—"

  "No!" Helen said, her lips trembling.

  Hugh closed his eyes momentarily before he whispered, "I am sorry, Mom. I didn't mean—"

  Helen stood up from her chair and went directly to Hugh. She cupped his face in her hands lovingly. "Sshh! It's okay! Sometimes, I get the same feeling. But we need to stay strong for X's sake," she said in a low voice.

  "I know! But it's not just about X," Hugh said and kissed Helen on the cheek. He stood up and added carefully, nervously looking at Gilda, "It's just that I saw something earlier. It looked like—"

  "The smite," Gilda finished for him. "Sshh! Quiet there and be careful." She looked around her as if there were other people listening, who were hidden from her view. She took in a deep breath and exhaled. Then, she muttered a few unintelligible things to herself. "Tell me what you saw?"

  "What is it?" Helen asked looking alarmed.

  "I am going to fix myself something to eat," Hugh announced, trying to ignore Helen's question.

  Before he reached the door, Gilda stood up and intentionally blocked his path, "Good Lord, it was also after you!" she cried out. "Tell me what you saw."

  "Hugh?" Helen inquired, inching closer to both Gilda and Hugh.

  "Nothing!" Hugh said. "I couldn't even see it properly because it just looks like a swift black thing that creeps at the side of my eyes."

  Gilda ran both hands through her arms to rub them, "It was indeed the smite," she uttered.

  "I haven't seen the smite before," Hugh said. "Why now?"

  "The smite is everywhere choosing to show itself especially to people who choose to see it," Gilda quipped.

  "For heaven's sake, I didn't choose to see it—" Hugh cried out angrily.

  "Oh, yes you did," Gilda insisted. "You choose what you feel, what you think—you chose to see it!"

  "For a moment, it was only after—" Hugh looked back at Xavier meaningfully before he continued, "Then, the next minute it was going after me." He felt like a school boy telling his mother he was being bullied. There was a part of him that was embarrassed about it. However, there was also the vulnerable part of him which desired concern and protection.

  Gilda's eyes met his for a fleeting moment. If there had been a glint of motherly thing there Hugh thought he saw, it was gone like the speed of light as she told him emphatically, "I will make it sure my dream pertains to only one person." She proceeded to stand next to Helen.

  "What does it mean, Gilda?" Helen demanded.

  "Rebecca could have sent them—" Gilda announced while Helen gasped.

  "Oh, come on—" Hugh interjected. "She can't have power over them!"

  "She's is that powerful. She can't only heal. She can also destroy. Look at our dear boy, Xavier! It's her doing," Gilda uttered.

  Hugh shrugged his shoulders dejectedly. He was hoping for a different reaction from her—maybe something that was more directed to him than her war against Rebecca Blood.

  "I'll go eat now, I'm hungry," he said.

  Helen kissed him soundly on the cheek. Short from pushing him away from Gilda, she told him softly, "Go, go! We'll be fine here."

  Hugh proceeded outside and closed the door behind him. He stopped to pop the tablet into his mouth just as the throbbing pain in his head started once again.

  God forbid, Gilda doesn't kill Rebecca Blood, known to be the greatest healer, herself… Hugh reflected. Even if she wants to. And if she does, hopefully, she doesn't fail.

  If the stories Hugh heard about Rebecca Blood were to be believed, she was as evil as Gilda perceived her to be. Then, Gilda won't be left unharmed. Just like the countless, unnamed enemies of the Bloods, Gilda will be spitting out roaches and flies on her deathbed. If not, she may have to go into hiding for the remaining days of her life.

  Chapter 5

  Rebecca Blood

  "Are you healed?" the wind whispered in a voice that Rebecca Blood was so familiar with. It was her own voice, only speaking from the outside. After having lived and died all over again for the last thousand years, the voice kept on asking, always demanding and never satisfied. Perhaps, not once in Rebecca's many lifetimes was she able to answer it satisfactorily, the rationale for its recurrence every time she was on the brink of death.

  "Go, away! Don’t bother me," Rebecca said. I can’t think anymore…for God’s sake! She dismissed the voice the way she would anybody who did not matter.

  You sure, do not give people a chance to really reflect on their lives and be thankful much less—"…when dying can be this painful," she finished off loudly.

  Anybody who would hear Rebecca will certainly think she was already hallucinating and talking to herself. But nobody was around.

  Rebecca attempted to crunch on her bed with the help of all the propped up pillows behind her. However, moving took so much effort and pain. She slumped back heavily and uncomfortably, failing to rise an inch.

  How can she feel so numb yet so painful at the same time? It entered Rebecca's mind. It was ridiculous how she felt. Her long black mane which she kept almost to her waist felt so heavy and hot. She felt her muscles numb, tingly and painful. She felt tired and her body ached all over. Breathing was also laborious that it almost felt like she was taking in a lungful of invisible water, suffocating her. Curled in a fetal position, her technique was to calm down and stay immobile, just as she was, to lessen the pain. At sixty-five, she sensed her death like it was just another clumsy step on her part.

  "Why should I be afraid?" Rebecca hissed in between gritted teeth. Like a mantra, she repeatedly kept on mumbling, "Why should I be afraid?"

  As the most powerful priestess coming from the lineage of Mary of Magdala before the seven demons were driven out of her body, Rebecca never feared death. Indeed, death was an ordinary experience for her and the others in the clan. She has the priestess' blood. They all rose again after a period of time to be reborn. There was neither room for fear nor uncertainty prompted by the experience. Not even the pain of leaving behind the mortal body affected Rebecca before. There was always the comforting feeling and assurance that it was all a cycle and everything shall come to pass. Usually, priestesses like her reached the age of ninety before they succumbed to their deathbed. With a natural cause like an ordinary disease turned worse, they eventually die temporarily. Then, they were reborn with complete memory of their past lives. It was like not dying at all.

  But there lay the difference. Re
becca knew that the present moment offered something different about her passing away. After having encountered the experience of temporary dying for a thousand years, she was totally convinced something was anew. Aside from the reality that her death at the moment was a prolonged encounter the way it never happened before when she slipped into oblivion like she was only falling asleep, there was also the distinct taste of fear.

  Fear for the unknown.

  Rebecca and the other priestesses possessed supernatural powers and were skillful in occult activities. Death wouldn’t have been an issue for Rebecca. However, she feared her inevitable death for she knew quite well something had gone terribly wrong and different.

  And yet there was no turning back…

  Although, as a priestess she was endowed with immense power ranging from immortality and healing people to harming them, the worse thing that could ever happen was for others to know about it. Such immense power was eternally coveted.

  When priestesses like her were vanquished, the cycle of birth and death will cease and the power will be endowed to the victorious. That was why it was so important for the priestesses that no other soul will know.

  Even without the coveted secret power, Rebecca knew many wished for her downfall. Even among her family…particularly among her children…She knew most of her children had probably wanted her dead one time or another.

  Rebecca had seven children in her present lifetime. All of whom she had manipulated one way or another to be her clone without her power. Rebecca knew she was not easy to live with, imposing her rules, her desires, her dreams, her frustrations on her children. She couldn’t blame them if they wanted her dead. There was no loving relationship between her and her children in her present lifetime.

  Rebecca could remember however that there was one period in her lifetime when she unconditionally loved her children. That was probably way back her very first time as a mother, when she was naïve and nurturing.

  She realized though that there was a pattern of some sort that she was creating for every generation that she had survived. She observed that the pattern took an unmistakable route. Good generation led to the next bad generation and vice versa. Her children turned out to be rascals and even murderers when she had been a good mother. For the present generation, she knew her children were a bred of good generation because she was a bad parent.