The ground shook as though a thousand army tanks were driving by, soon after followed by the beeping of a vehicle reversing and some shouting over all of the noise. I could feel the warm air shift around me, the sensation of being closed into a small surrounding area. My fingers shifted nervously on their own, almost as if I had no control over them whatsoever, picking away at what I could only assume was worn leather. The sound of a man's voice droned into my ears, he was talking about money and how there was only a limited amount of time before he would have to ask for it all back. I could tell that at some point I wasn't listening to the conversation, feeling completely out of control. My vision slowly faded in from black, sunlight beaming onto a slightly cluttered desk while a man sat across from me. I couldn't make out his face no matter how hard I tried, and as I tried to move my body, I had no control on the movements. I felt my hand come up to touch my chin, brushing the soft five o'clock shadow that was growing only to set my hand back down on the arm of the chair to pick away at the leather that was chipping from being worn down over the years.
You have to understand, John, that I get what you're going through. We've all been there – money is tight, that's the way life works. But there has to be a point where you take responsibility for it, you gotta make it right on your own. You know I've done my best for you, but my business is suffering. I've got people clambering for money left, right, and center. I wouldn't be putting pressure on you to return what I lent you if it wasn't for them.
I nodded along to every word the man was saying to me, pulling at the leather and making small balls with the pieces in between my fingers.
I'm giving you a few more weeks to get it back to me. Does the second week of June sound okay to you? I really need you to get it together, buddy. I've got a business on the line here, I took money from somewhere I never should have touched.
"I would give it back to you in a second if I could, Fletch. I'll do whatever it takes," I replied. I couldn't understand why I said any of that, it didn't feel like me saying it and yet my mouth was moving and the words were forming from my voice.
Second week of June, okay?
"I'll do what I can," I added, pushing myself up from the chair. I felt frustrated by the conversation because it really seemed as though it had gotten me nowhere, that perhaps I would have been better off avoiding whatever it was that brought me to Harrow Hall in the first place...was I dreaming?
This dream felt all too real, there was too much telling me that it was real life and yet I had no control over anything that was happening. I couldn't even choose to look at something in specific, instead I was being forced by some other power to move and react how it felt fit. Even as I shoved open the door to leave the small portable office that I had been in, it felt as though I was strong – I had never felt my body move with such ease before.
I stopped when I got down the wooden steps, watching as a bulldozer maneuvered around while another vehicle followed closely behind, a bunch of men in neon yellow vests were directing the vehicles away from a building that was nothing but a steel frame. I waited until the coast was clear to pass by, taking a close look at a sign that warned about wearing safety equipment otherwise there would be a fine. I felt no need to protect myself because clearly I didn't belong here, I wasn't a part of what was going on. I navigated through the busy construction site until I found my way to the parking lot, approaching my forest green truck that was parked amongst an array of vehicles that were caked with dried mud. I knew with the utmost certainty that it was mine, even though at the same time it wasn't. I had seen this truck before, I had driven inside of it before.
As I propped open the door, I heard someone yell out John, wait – causing me to turn around to see who it was. There was the same man from inside of the portable office, strutting up to me with so much purpose that for a minute I wasn't sure what to expect. Only in the last few seconds did I realize what was about to happen, bracing myself for the worst. A hand flew straight at me, landing across my jaw and causing me to stumble backwards. The pain of the punch radiated through my face, my hand instinctively going up to nurse the wound as yet another fist was thrown at me, except this time landing straight into my stomach. I felt the air squeeze out of me, keeling over as I tried to catch my breath.
I'm sorry, John, but it's only business. You knew what you were getting into, there's no room for you to only see what you can do – you've gotta get me my money back by June or else this will only get worse.
I coughed, trying to pull myself up from the ground only to have the man grab me by the collar of my jacket and throw me up against my truck. He slammed me against the body of my truck a few times, trying my best to push him away but he was far too strong. He grabbed my face in his hand, squeezing it gently so that my face pinched in his grasp. He brought his other hand up to pat me on the cheek, sucking his lips in against his teeth.
We understand each other, don't we, Johnny?
I nodded, "Crystal clear."
The man stared at my mouth for a moment before looking me dead in the eyes, thinking something over to himself. He finally nodded in return, loosening his grip on my face before letting go entirely. Good, because if we don't –
"We do," I snapped back, rubbing my face where he had been holding me. I bent down to fish my keys off the ground, wiping off the mud onto my pants. The man looked at me once more, nodding in approval before turning and walking away from me. I watched him until I was sure he wasn't going to turn back and try to fight me again. Once I knew the coast was clear, I got into my truck and sat idling for awhile. I sighed, leaning up against the steering wheel as I tried to catch my breath, wincing as I touched the sore spot on my stomach. Broken ribs.
~~~
My eyes snapped open, quickly sitting up in bed as I gasped for air. I looked around to see that I was in my own bedroom, the lamp on the nightstand table giving off a dim yellow light that cascaded around me. I felt sick to my stomach and there was a bitter taste in my mouth almost like battery acid, not to mention that I was beyond thirsty to the point that I could barely open my mouth. I looked over to the nightstand table to see a full glass of water waiting for me, not hesitating a moment to gulp down the entirety of its contents. Once I was fully satiated, or at least enough to not feel like my mouth was sealed shut because of how dry it was, I brought my hands up to examine them. There was no doubt in my mind that I was the real Ellion and not in the body of someone else.
I laid back in bed, my head hitting the pillow but feeling as though it was still spinning. I rested my hands on my stomach and felt the spot where I had been hit, only to discover that I wasn't tender at all, and that my ribs were not broken. I thought about it for a moment, trying to recall what I had seen. Was I dreaming? And if so, why did it feel so real? It didn't even feel like a premonition, it felt as though I was living in another person's body – and that body happened to belong to John Shop. I hadn't realized it at the time despite how many times John's name was mentioned, but now that I reflected on it I knew fully well that was who I was living through. It felt weird to be inside of not only his mind, but his body. Usually in premonitions I felt as though I was simply viewing the scene, not that I was entirely connected to it. This was different, this was so real that I had trouble believing that I hadn't actually lived it myself.
The morning light was beginning to break through my window, but all I wanted to do was sleep for a bit longer. I thought long and hard about how long I had been sleeping and how I had even managed to end up in my bed, wondering where everyone was. With a bit of convincing, I managed to pull myself from bed, avoiding the waste basket that had clearly been used to house vomit, and headed downstairs. Every step I took felt like I was wearing lead shoes and that my head was being pulled apart in every direction, trying to take my time with each stair. When I made it to the bottom, I only went so far as to get a good view of the living-room, seeing that dad was the only one sleeping on the couch. Had Jannie gotten home safe? What happened to John? Most of all, how did I get home in the first place?
I didn't have it in me to question much else, instead I crawled up the stairs on my hands and knees until I was safely back into the warmth and comfort of my bed. I slept for another three hours until I finally woke up and convinced myself that I needed to take a shower and brush my teeth; I could feel the alcohol pouring out of my skin.
I had almost forgotten entirely about the strange dream I had about John until I began thinking about the fact that the night previous I had actually kissed him. My heart skipped a beat, hoping that I hadn't dreamed that, too. I couldn't bear to be alone with my thoughts any longer, so I grabbed the piece of paper by the door with John's phone number and quickly dialed it in. He didn't answer. I almost let it go, but something told me to try again. It almost went to his voice-mail again, but he managed to finally pick up.
"Hello?" He said, his tone rather morose.
"John! Oh, thank god you're alive," I said, sighing as I bent over the kitchen table to steady myself. "What a weird night, I don't remember getting home at all. Did you get home safe?"
"Yeah, I made it home okay. Are you feeling any better?" His voice seemed lackluster, almost as if he was forcing himself to speak to me.
I paused, ignoring his question. "Are you okay? You sound – upset?"
"No, just – tired."
"You sure? Is everything alright?"
"I'm fine, Ellion," He snapped, immediately sighing after. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. I'm just not feeling well."
I suddenly felt like I was bothering him, as if I had done something wrong. I hoped and prayed that I hadn't made a fool of myself last night, that it had ended on a good note rather than me doing something I would later regret. "Well, I'll let you rest, if that's what you need," I replied, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. Clearly I didn't hide it very well because I could hear something shift in his tone. "Ellion, I'm really sorry, I'm not mad at you if that's what you're thinking. I've just had a bad morning, that's all."
"Did something happen?"
There was silence on the other end of the phone, dragging on for longer than I cared to admit. Finally he spoke. "Are you hungry? Let me take you out for breakfast and we can talk."
I agreed to it, though I couldn't help but worry the entire time as I waited for him to pick me up like he had specified. I paced back and forth in front of the door, checking my wristwatch every few seconds until I finally heard his truck pull into the driveway. Dad had clearly already left for work because his own truck wasn't in it's usual spot.
I tried to act calm and not let John see the worry that was eating away at me, sitting myself beside him in the front passenger seat of the truck. He didn't look directly at me, instead giving me a half-smile before putting the truck in reverse. I watched him for a moment as he slowly placed his arm on the back of the seat to look behind, revealing a very prominent blue and purple bruise on the left side of his jaw. My thoughts raced, quickly reaching out to grab his arm before he could continue to turn the wheel. He placed his foot on the brake, putting the truck into park as he sighed.
"What happened to your face, John?" I questioned, unable to hide my worried tone.
"I don't know if I really want to tell you about it," He replied.
"Please tell me," I said with panic in my voice. It wasn't a dream after all, the bruise on his face matched exactly where he had been hit.
He took a moment, pulling the truck forward in the driveway so that he wasn't edged out onto the road. "I don't want you to think less of me," He said, pausing as he looked over to my face to gauge how I was reacting. "I told you that I wasn't able to get a job after I finished university, well because of that I wasn't able to pay any of my bills so I had debt collectors after me. I knew that as soon as I left Brook and Nora that I had to take care of this, so I asked my uncle Fletcher for a loan to pay them all off. I thought he was going to give me a few years to slowly pay him back with whatever I earned, but it turns out he's going through some financial difficulties of his own. I was supposed to work for him for free and he would give me a room in return, all the while he would pocket my earnings to pay off what I owed him. Turns out that because his business is taking a hard hit that he has some people after him, and they're not the type of people to sit around and wait for their money back."
"So your uncle Fletcher punched you because you owe him money?" I couldn't wrap my head around the idea.
"This was just to scare me, but I imagine if I don't get the full amount to him when he wants it then it might only get worse."
"How are you supposed to get the money to him by the second week of June?" I questioned.
He was about to answer, but stopped himself. He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head a few times. "How did you know when he wanted the money by?"
I froze. John hadn't said the date yet, but I managed to fill in the blanks from the odd premonition that I had. "You mentioned it earlier," I replied.
He stared at me for a moment, shrugging it off. "In any case, I have to do whatever it takes to get him this money. I may even have to take out another bank loan in order to do it, but whatever it takes to get him off of my back."
"It seems so strange to me that your own uncle would do this to you."
"You don't know my uncle, then."
"If it isn't too much to ask, how much do you owe him?"
John paused. "Eighty thousand."