A Touch Dead

A Touch Dead

Chapter 7





I jump forward, catching him around the waist, using my body to support him and keeping him from hitting the ground. Instantly I regret it-not catching him, but allowing myself the direct skin contact when my fingers have brushed his side where his shirt has risen up just slightly. I’m pulled into his head and I see something so disturbing I know he’s not just fantasising it. I see Morgan being surrounded so quickly that it’s a blur. The fists spring on him so fast and hard that the kid can’t even defend himself properly. I feel that terrible pain, hollow from experiencing it through another body, but still painful just the same. I see this rich kid die, and this time I’m experiencing it how Aiydenn has.



I snap my hand off his skin, making sure to keep some fabric between my black flesh and his paleness. I drag him over to the grass off the sidewalk and lay him down. I stare at him, utterly confused and curious. Carefully I pull back my sleeve and press my hand to his, feeling myself being pulled into his head again. He’s reliving the death, seeing it just as clearly as I had and the pain just becomes more and more suffocating that his own fear is mingling with Morgan’s. I don’t understand how he knows what happened. I don’t think communicating with Morgan can give him this detailed a picture of what had taken place. Before it repeats again I’m thrust back into my own head and I yank my hand away, sliding it back up my sleeve as I see Aiydenn regaining consciousness. He looks at me blearily, propping himself up on his elbows.



Before thinking I blurt out, “How do you know how Morgan died? How come you’re able to see it?”



Fuck.



“And how do you know I can?” He says and before I can pull back he grabs my wrist, his brows knitted together. He pulls up my sleeve and I let him, watching his expression carefully. His eyes widen, and I can faintly hear the quick intake of air. His fingers go to touch my discoloured flesh and I yank my hand away before he can, returning it to its’ protective sleeve. I still don’t have mobility back in my hand yet and I feel my skin prickling with unease. I’m unable to meet his gaze and I can tell he’s straining himself to keep his body to tense.



“Get up, let’s go.” I snap as I grab his upper arm and hoist him to his feet. I know I’m going to have to explain myself and I’m not enjoying entertaining his every piece of curiosity. But I got myself into this crap, now I’ll have to take care of the consequences. I don’t release him; instead I drag him back through the woods, slowing down when he practically falls on his face. I bring us off the trail and let him sit on a fallen log, noting how drained he is, both physically and emotionally. This is one conversation I wish I could avoid, and despite all his fatigue, his eyes clearly express his desire for answers. From me.



“Well?” He finally interrupts my train of thoughts, glaring at me intensely. “What’s your deal?”



“My deal? None. I can just see into your head when you aren’t conscious.” His lack of a response tells me he’s stunned. He shakes his head and presses on.



“Is that the first time you’ve seen it? How he died?” I shake my head.



“I’ve seen it already. Before I touched you.”



“How?” He looks incredulous, leaning forward as he becomes wrapped up in our discussion. I shift uncomfortably, moving to lean against a close by tree. My fingers slip out of my sleeve to gently trace the cut on my left cheek, a result from discovering Morgan during my trek through the woods. He watches my every move, analysing me, trying to figure me out.



“I touched him.”



“Before he died?”



“No. I can’t see the future.” I growl, finding the idea absurd, yet his reaction indicates he’s disappointed.



“Then what? I don’t understand.”



“Neither do I.” He scowls, not impressed by my obscured response. I wouldn’t be either if I was him. “How did you see it?”



He hesitates and I give an impatient grunt and he flinches. His fingers intertwine in his lap and release many times as he mulls it over, debating whether to tell me.



“Did Morgan tell you? Did he describe it in detail and you just happened to mentally visualize it to perfection?” I say, a bit on the sarcastic side, but more curious then anything. He shakes his head, his brown hair falling into his face.



“I saw it like a vision. I can see how people are going to die, even if I don’t want to. Then I see their ghosts.” He trails off; like he’s remembering every terrible thing he’s witnessed. “And that’s why I need to know what you know. Morgan Steels-the real one-is haunting me. It’s not the usual haunting. I mean, usually they just follow me around, ya know? Like part of the background, and eventually disappear. But Morgan, he’s the first to stay this long and actually try to communicate with me. He’s tried to hurt me and he doesn’t seem to be weakening at all. He’s becoming more intense, like he wants something,”



“He probably does. Isn’t that why ghost would stick around?”



He shrugs, not really caring enough or just doesn’t have the energy to do much else. “But I don’t know what he wants. My best guess is that he wants us to know who killed him.”



It’s my turn to shrug and I reach into my bag, pulling out a smoke and lighting up. He says nothing, just sitting there like he’s about to fall over. After a while I can’t stand the silence. A part of me worries that’s he’ll faint again is he’s too idle.



“Can you ask him?”



“I’ve tried. He just keeps bringing me here, keeps making me relive the terror of his death.” I ponder that, trying to piece out why that’s all he’s getting. I guess he’s limited to seeing their death, and then the ghost just pesters him until he understand what his dying with was. Well, if that is why he’s still hanging around, because something was left unfulfilled. But he hasn’t been very clear on what his dying wish, or regret, is. He just keeps showing his death and makes Aiydenn relive his fear.



I don’t really want to consider it but I have a feeling if I pry enough that I might be able to see something important. That’s one of the things I’m able to do when I touch a corpse. I get flashes of their more important experiences. Kind of like these flashes of the future Aiydenn seems to have, with the exception of my flashes being limited to what’s already happened. I cannot see what will happen or how, and even what I see isn’t guaranteed to be relevant to anything Morgan might be after.



For instance, the morning I found my mom collapsed on the kitchen floor, dead from a severe heart attack, I had been able to see into her. I had cradled her head in my lap, crying as I saw flickers of her life. I saw when she had me, crying at the miraculous birth of her one and only child. I also saw the last fight she had with Dad, and how angry she had felt that he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her things. I felt her anger turn into grief and the tears following, her emotions all swirling together into one big mess. I don’t know why I saw those things in particular. I don’t know if they were meant to alter me somehow, but I saw them, and I can still remember clearly how I felt as I experienced that for the first time. I was only 7 when I touched my first corpse. Even then my hands were discoloured, though it had been a slow progress. Once I touched the corpse though, my skin blackened faster, became less warm.



I hadn’t touched many corpses since then-not like I’d want to make it a habit anyways. I had touched my grandmother at her the viewing before her funeral. I saw her first encounter with my Grandfather. I also saw the time she had been raped on her vacation down south. I was mute for days after seeing that. My Dad had nearly gone insane with worry at why his child was refusing to speak to him or even make eye contact. I couldn’t face an adult man, even if I knew my father had nothing to do with her rape. He wasn’t even alive at that time.



Looking at Aiydenn now I feel my chest tense up and I find myself ready to help him. “I might be able to help you with what he’s after.”



“So you know? What does he want?”



“I don’t know yet. But I can try to find out.” I hesitate and he stands up, walking over to me on shaky legs.



“How? I couldn’t find out anything on this kid. He’s not showing me anything.” He scowls, visibly frustrated, ready to be Morgan free.



“If I touch him, I can see stuff. I might see what he’s after.”



“Like, speaking to the dead? Why didn’t you say you can talk to him?!”



“It’s not that simple and I cannot talk to him. I don’t even see him.” He frowns, again looking disappointed. He wobbles and I wait until he sits down before I speak again. “When I touch a corpse, I can see things from their former life. I can’t control what I see, but we might find something helpful. I’ve never touched a corpse more than once before so I’m not sure I won’t see any besides his death, which is what I saw last time.” Not quite true; I’ve touched my mom a couple times and I never saw anything different.



He nods and drags a hand through his hair, looking off into the distance. “That might work. I hope it does. So do you need to touch him directly, or just something of his?”



“Directly. Skin to skin.” He glances to the ground and I know what he’s thinking. “We’ll dig him up at night. Meet me there tomorrow at 1130.”



He looks a little alarmed. “Why not tonight?”



I roll my eyes, giving a heavy sigh. “You would collapse if you even tried to help my dig him up. Focus on getting some strength back. I won’t be there tonight so don’t bother going.”



I go to head back to the trail and pause. I grab his arm, holding it over my shoulder, helping him walk back onto the trail. I’m careful not to let my hands slip out from the sleeves, not wanting him to feel how cold and texture less my hands are to touch. I get him to direct me to his home and about a half hour later we get to the apartment, thanks to his slow, weakened state. I push the door open and help him inside. It’s not very fancy or big, though bigger then the crap hole I lived in with my Dad after mom died. I see a woman collapsed on the couch, a partially empty beer hanging in her hand. She’s sleeping and we don’t bother to wake her. I help Aiydenn to his room and drop him onto his bed where he grunts exhaustedly.



Before I can turn to go he asks, “Who are you really?”



“Chaise Foeman.” He goes to say something else but his mother barges in then, tripping over her own feet. She demands that he explain why she’s so alone, practically screaming in her drunken stake. She shakes her beer, some of the liquid spilling onto her shirt. She seems to notice me and stumbles back as if in shock. She goes red and stumbles out without another word, hitting into the door frame as she goes.



I look back at Aiydenn and he seems indifferent to it all. Instead of saying anything, I just take my leave, not really wanting another heart-to-heart with him. Not after revealing what I’ve been hiding all my life.



+



Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. They finally sort of told each other about the powers they have. I know a lot of you have been looking forward to that of course it might not be the way you thought it would happen but we like to keep things interesting ;)



So….also I’m sorry I kind missed the three day mark that I promised. My sense of time is totally off now that I’m back working. I had three months off so things were a lot easier to remember but now it all just seems to blur together. But not to worry, I bought myself a personal organizer in which I am writing down everything :)



Smint45: Thanks again :) Haha, yup, Aiydenn has issues. This chapter was the chance to kind of shine more of a light on him and I guess just what exactly happens to him. Looking forward to seeing you next chapter~



Lisa: Yeah, Aiydenn has lots to deal with. Chaise does too of course, but just in different ways :) Hope you liked the chapter and we’ll see you next one~



Midnightsweet: I hope this was out fast enough for you. Kayaz and I do our best to be fairly quick. See you next chapter~



Looking forward to seeing everyone next chapter~ we’re almost to the 400 hit mark!