Numb. That’s how I feel sitting in the waiting room of the hospital of my small town Hanerton, Georgia. Devoid of all emotion, empty. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it is wrong to be here, waiting with his friends and family when I was the one who had hit him. I never thought I would be here, waiting to see the “oddball” of our grade. Now, as I wait to hear his fate, I am disgusted that I ever thought of him that way. I wait for what seems like hours until I hear my name.
“Lynn Hawley?” The young nurse calls.
I make myself rise from my chair and walk mechanically across the room. My hand shakes as it turns the doorknob to the room that holds Trevor. Immediately, the smell of disinfectant hits me and I shiver. Ever since I broke my arm in the third grade I have hated hospitals.
“Stop it,” I think to myself. “This is about Trevor, not you.” I take a deep breath and walk over to the bed. I brace myself and look at him. Bandages, tubes, and bruises are all I see. I feel my throat close up and I try to stop the hot tears that are silently streaming down my face. “I did this to you,” is the only thing I can think.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to choke out. I know that it isn’t enough, but it is all I can say so I hold his hand and continue to whisper “I’m sorry” until the tears stop and I am ushered away from his bed and out into the waiting room again.
I can see his grieving family, praying that he wakes up, and feel a new wave of guilt wash over me. Trevor’s little sister looks up at me and gives me a tentative smile which brings more tears to my eyes. I do not deserve their friendliness. They should hate me; I’m as good as a murderer. Every part of my body yearns to collapse in a heap and sob in solitude, but I can’t. I have to go tell his family what happened. I owe them at least that much. Ignoring my urges, I stand up and make my way to their group of chairs. Once I am in front of them, I find that I cannot form words, so I just stand there stupidly until Trevor’s mother, Mrs. Cassidy, invites me to sit. I accept and make my way over to the indicated chair. Without warning, the whole story spills out.
“I was at Laura McLaughlin’s party, dancing, talking, drinking. I had seen glimpses of Trevor, and I remember thinking how odd that was because he wasn’t friends with Laura, but I pushed it aside. I just wanted to party. The party was cut short though. The neighbors had called the cops, and everyone was trying to get out, including me. When I jammed the keys into my car, I didn’t think about the alcohol, just about getting home. I shot off at 60 miles an hour and ran straight through a stop sign, and that’s when it happened.” My voice wavers and I take a shaky breath then continue, “I didn’t see him; he must have left the party early and was walking home. He was crossing the street, and I slammed on my brakes, but I wasn’t quick enough. I remember the look of recognition on his face that resulted in a smile. He didn’t realize what was happening until, until, until I hit him and his face contorted with pain. The scream, the flashing lights, the blood…” I trail off and close my eyes, not wanting to see the looks on his family’s faces. When I open my eyes, I see not the faces of disbelief and anger that I expect, but faces of understanding and pain. I look at each one of them individually: Mrs. Cassidy, Mr. Cassidy, and little Rose Cassidy. I mumble an apology and run out to my car. I fumble with my keys and drop them. As I bend to pick them up, I hear a cool, haughty voice behind me.
“You know he’s not going to survive,” the voice says. I jump up and whip around to see a tall, slender, blond girl leaning on my car picking her manicured nails indifferently.
“Who are you?” I ask, trying to sound brave, but my voice is hoarse from crying.
“That doesn’t concern you,” she says.
Something about her puts me on edge, so I get in the car and start to back out without another word. I exhale and try to calm my shaking hands.
“I can cure him, I just want a little something in return,” says the mystery girl’s voice from the passenger seat.
I shriek as I hear her voice and I slam the breaks. The car screeches to a halt. Now my whole body is shaking.
“GET OUT!” I order. I can feel my face flush a bright red.
She just blinks at me and runs her fingers through her hair. “All I want is to have a little fun. Entertain me and your precious Trevor will make a miraculous recovery,” she smiles. I wrench open the car door and storm off. Within two seconds, she is walking beside me. “Let me explain. I’m a devil, well devil in tr-”
“You’re the devil?!” I laugh, unable to hide my disbelief.
“Not THE devil, A devil. And I’m only a devil in training. That’s why I need you. The more contracts I get signed, the higher up I go.” she says exasperatedly, as if she’s told this story a million times. “Maybe I will be Top Devil someday,” she says thoughtfully.
She spaces out for a moment, probably envisioning herself as Top Devil or whatever, so I use the opportunity to get out my phone and call the police. Before I can hit the call button, her hand darts in and snatches my phone away.
“HEY, give that back!” I scream, really getting angry at her.
She walks up to me and breathes into my ear. “You don’t want to tell anyone about me,” she hisses, “or else poor Trevor goes bye-bye forever.” She steps back and crushes the phone with one hand and lets the broken pieces fall to the ground. Suddenly, she no longer looks like the beautiful human leaning on my car. Now, her face looks cruel, her fingernails long and ragged, her skin wrinkled. I blink, and she is back to normal.
“How old are you?” I ask softly.
“Let’s put it this way: I did business with Columbus,” she replied. I shake my head, refusing to believe that this is happening.
“You, you are crazy. I’m going home,” I stammer. I storm back to the car and jam the keys into the ignition. Unsurprisingly, she is sitting in the passenger seat beside me.
“You should go to the hospital and see how poor Trevor is doing, I bet he’s worse,” she smiles vindictively. “I can cure him. If you change your mind, cry on this and I’ll be there in a flash.” She hands me a blood red silk handkerchief then disappears before my eyes.
Gulping, I grasp the steering wheel and head back to the hospital, willing for Trevor to be better, for the girl to be wrong. I pull into the parking lot and race into the waiting room. I see his family talking to a doctor, and I inch closer to hear what he is saying.
“He’s not showing any signs of improvement, Mrs. Cassidy,” the doctor was saying. “He has five broken ribs, a broken arm, and a cracked skull. His brain activity is slowing down, and his kidneys show signs of failure. He will need a kidney transplant very soon if he is to have any hope of survival.”
Upon hearing this, I slink away, back to the car, shocked. The Cassidys do not have the money for a kidney transplant even if there are any donors. I know what I have to do. Feeling around on the floor of the car, I find the red handkerchief. I close my eyes and let a single tear trail down my face and fall onto the silk square. When I open my eyes, there she is, with a gleeful, greedy expression on her face.
“You ready to make a deal?” she asks.
“I guess so,” I reply wearily.
“Great!” she says, clapping her hands together. “Let’s negotiate in my office.” She steps out of the car and motions for me to do so as well. She comes over to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. Her touch burns my skin, but before I can say anything, we are flying past the hospital and into the depths of the forest. After a few moments, we come to an abrupt halt in front of a tree like all of the others. She lets go of my shoulder and walks up to the tree.
“Sophie Loster,” she enunciates. A doorway opens in the tree to reveal a flight of stairs leading down into the earth. I cautiously descend after her into the dark. We reach the bottom, and instead of an earthy hollow like I expect, I am facing a luxurious dining room lit by a flickering fire coming from the opposite side of the room. Sophie takes a seat at the head of the long mahogany table. She flicks her hand and a chair to her right slides out from the table, waiting for me to sit. I sit in the chair and face her.
“What do you want from me?” I ask her.
