Awakening

   “Ah good choice! Robert Frost is one of my favorite poets.” Stephen said passing the book over the counter to the gray-haired women standing in front of him.

    “Mine too!” She said. “You’re such a soulful mind Stephen, I’ll see next week.”

    “See you then Gladys, enjoy.”

    Stephen went over to the return bin, reached into his cordoroy pocket for the keys, and opened it; grabbing a stack of books he headed for the shelves. He glanced at his watch, three o’clock.  Three o’clock already, he thought,almost  time to head home, I should get some of this done for Sharon though.

    By the time he had finished and went back to the front desk Sharon was waiting for him. A middle age woman with long blond hair and thick glasses.

    “Go home already, will ya?” She said.

    “I am, I am. I just wanted to get some of the returns back for you.” He replied.

    “You don’t always have to do that.”

    “ I don’t like leaving you with that extra work. That’s not who I am.”

   With that Stephen buttoned up his sweater vest and grabbed his backpack.

  “See you tommorrow Sharon.”

 “Bye Steve.”

   Sharons smile was infectious.

   The bus pulled to a stop in front of him. As the doors opened the driver gave Stephen a smile.

   “Afternoon Steve. Been a good day?”

   “Always.” Stephen said, smiling back.

   Stephen took a seat near the front and pulled a book out of his backpack as the bus pulled away.

   They had been barely moving when the lights started to flicker. Stephen looked out the window as everything around him dissolved into black.

   His eyelids were heavy. It was a struggle to open them. As he did the image of a slowly spining ceiling fan came into focus. He recognized that ceiling fan, it’s the one that spun over his bed. Stephen glanced around; it was his bedroom. He sprung up and looked at the clock on his bedside table. That can’t be right, he thought to himself, why does it say midnight? A quick check of his watch confirmed it. He couldn’t remember the last nine hours.

     He looked down at himself and was startled by what he saw. He was in clothes that he had never seen before.

    Instead of his sweater vest he was now in a black henley shirt, and his brown cordoroy’s had been replaced by black cargo pants.

   “What the heck?’ He said.

   He leaped out of bed and made his way for the bathroom.

   Looking at himself in the mirror he was shocked to see a bloody bottom lip and a large bruise on his right cheek.

  He caressed the bruise, wincing.

  As he stared at his lip, he thought he glimpsed his reflection smiling.

 “Ah!”

  Ring. Ring.

 Stephen stumbles back and nearly fell over the toilet, only steadying himself at the last second by grabbing the counter.

 Ring. Ring

 He ran into the living room and grabbed the phone, nothing but a dial tone.

 Ring. Ring

 Stephen darted his eyes around the room. Then he realized that the ringing was coming from a pocket in his new pants.

  He reached a hand in and pulled out a black cell phone.

 “Hello?”

 “You made someone very happy, it seems as though they left a large tip.” A womens voice said.

 “I think you have the wrong number” Stephen said

 “Stop playing games Chase. Do you want your money? Come down to Club Caracas and pick it up.”

 With that the women hung up.

 Stephen closed the phone and stood there a moment, staring at it while he pondered his options.

  Probably isn’t the best idea, but someone might be hurt he thought, caressing his bruised cheek.

   As he headed out the front of his apartment building he remembered how late it was.

   Shoot! The buses aren’t running anymore.

  That’s when he felt something else in his pocket. He reached in and pulled out a key.

 He pressed the unlock button.

 Beep. Beep.

 He looked toward the sound; a green motorcycle sat at the curb.

 “Your kidding.”

 He walked over to it. There was a helmet on the seat.

 As he put it on he struggled to remember any time he had ever been on a motorcycle; he couldn’t. Yet he knew exactly what to do.

  He started the bike and roared off toward Club Caracas.

    He had parked the bike and rounded the corner to the clubs entrance, already feeling the music thump through his chest.

  “Chase! You son of a bitch!” A voice yelled behind him.

  Spinning around just in time he was grabbed by a mountain of a man in an all too small blue t-shirt

   “What the hell are you doing here!? Takes alotta nerve to show your mug!” He spat out inches from Stephens face.

  “Back off Hugo, Valerina asked him here.” Said an equally large bouncer from the front entrance.

  Hugo glared at Stephen for what felt like another minute before letting him go.

  “She’s waitin’ for ya in the VIP suite” He said with a flick of his head.

  “Thank you.” Stephen said, walking through the door.

   Immediately, his head was split by the pounding music. Wading through the dense crowd of bodies all heaving in rhythm with the bass, the bartender waved him to follow.

     He was led to a door behind the bar.

    “Thank you” Stephen said.

     The bartender merely grunted and walked away.

      A long, dimly lit hallway stood before him. It’s dark oak walls muffling the noise of the dance floor. As Stephen lowered his hands from his ears he noticed shadows moving about behind the opaque glass of a door at the end of the hall.

   Must be where this Valerina is he thought.

   Creeping slowly along the hallway he made his approach to the door. Reaching his hand   to the knob he hesitated.

  Is this really a good idea? Who are these people? What am I doing? I can’t do this!

  Turning around he was prepared to sprint back to the dance floor and out of this place when he heard the door open.

  “Hey!” A thick voice called out.

  Stephens heart leaped into his throat. Swallowing hard he turned around to see that the voice had come from an equally thick man.

  “Quit makin’ ‘er wait. C’mon!”

  Stephen nodded.

  Walking into the room, his heart pounding, forehead slick with sweat; he was led past tables of people enjoying strong drinks, cigar smoke wafting in the air. They approached a private booth, shrouded by a curtain.

   The big man pulled back the curtain to reveal a woman in a blue dress. She was leaning back with a glass of red wine in her hand.

   “About time.”She said. “Leave us.”

   The big man wasted no time obeying.

   “Sit.” She nodded to a seat directly across from her.

   Stephen thought she was beautiful, a striking and powerful face framed by black hair.

    As he sat down she pulled a duffle bag onto the table.

   “Here’s your cut. That was good work. It took some time to convince the client that it wasn’t an accident.”

    She slid the dufflebag across the table. It was packed with stacks of one hundred dollar bills; Stephen nearly leaped to his feet when he opened it.

 “There must be hundreds of thousands of dollars in here.” Stephen said.

  “Uh, yeah, that’s what we agreed on. And your next mark. “ Valerina replied.

  “Mark?”

 “Cut the act Chase. It’s old. I’ll see you back here when the jobs done.”

  With that Valerina walked away.

   Stephen gingerly fingered through the bag. So much money he thought. His hand grabbed a hard object buried under the mound of green; lifting it out he realized it was a tablet. He powered it on bringing up the lock screen, a password bar appeared.

  “Hmmm…”

  He scratched his head.

  Taking notice of the finger ID scanner along the bottom edge he pressed his thumb into the dimple. A man’s face appeared on the screen.

    He took notice of the striking white smile which seemed to be a perfect match for the blond hair. Beneath the photo read: JAMES MANFIELD, 47, FINANCIER, ELLERHOUSE INTERNATIONAL, 472 BLOOMFIELD AVENUE.

    Stephen shoved the tablet back to the bottom of the bag and dashed to the wathroom, leaving it on the table.

    He wanted as far away from it as he could get, but knew he had to compose himself.

    The door slammed into the wall behind as he bolted in.

   “H-Hello!” He said.

   When he heard no reply he locked the door.

   Stephen grabbed at his hair, nearly pulling it out; his teeth grinding so much he thought they might chip.

  Sinking to his knees he said:

  “What’s happening!? That’s not who I am.”, knowing there was no one to hear him.

    “You’re finding your spine, that’s what!”

    Stephen jumped at the voice, nearly falling over.

   “Who’s that!?” He said.

    Silence.

   “Hel-Hello?”

   All he could hear was the musice from the club, muffled by the dark oak walls.

   He pulled himself to his feet.

   Spinning around he looked in all the stalls; my imagination, that mustve been all.

   Leaning on the sink he stared at his reflection in the mirror, he had forgotten how bad his face looked.

    “You useless sack of worm shit!” His reflection shouted at him.

    Stephen tripped, falling backwards into a stall.

   “No no no” he said, stumbling back to his feet.

   “Yes yes yes. I’m making you alotta cash and you almost fucked it up.” The reflection stated.

   “What? What is this? What are you?”

 “I’m you.” The reflection began. “Every dark thought or impulse you’ve ever had but have been too cowardly to act on, every carnal urge you’ve resisted, every ounce of anger and hatred you’ve kept in the shadows; and it’s time for me to come into the light.”

   Stephen blinked away his disbelief.

  “Wh-wha-what have you been doing? What have you been making me do?”

  The meaning of all this, now dawning on Stephen, weighed his soul down with dread.

  “Made you? Let’s not do this. Bud, I am you. Everything you’ve done was because you wanted too. All I am is your pathway. You built me and you tread on me. C’mon, you remember.”

   Like a fist slamming into his stomach Stephen was flooded with feelings of despair. His mind was now a movie reel of memories, once locked away but now spinning around before him. The faces of the those whom he’s killed, in their final moments, begging him for mercy.

    “Those people. What have I done?” Stephen said, tears now streaming down his face.

    “That’s not who I am.” He said, supporting himself on the sink edge.

    “Yes it is.” Chase said..

   “You know the truth now,  you have me back. Just be yourself. You can go places.”

    Stephen sat on the floor, weeping.

 BEEP BEEP BEEP

 The alarm blared.

  Stephen rolled out of bed.

  As the bus pulled up to the curb the doors swung open.

  “Good morning Steve!” The driver said with a smile.

  “Good morning”

  Stephen plodded through his morning; returning books to their rightful place on the shelves, checking out visitors. During his morning break he went for a walk.

   He meandered through town until he found himself on Bloomfield aveneue, staring at the front lobby of a business complex. The company name hung above the front doors:

                        ELLERHOUSE INTERNATIONAL