The Trap

13. Janice

The first time I had seen Alexander was at his parents' funeral. I was eleven at the time. Orphaned when I was barely five, my father's brother, my uncle, had taken me home. The years that followed brought me nothing but misery.

My uncle was a sick man. He liked his prey young, very young. I endured; I didn't know any better. Then one day, six years since I had started staying with him, he pulled me out of school and told me that we were moving towns as he had found a lucrative job elsewhere. Naturally, I believed him. I found out much later that he was actually running from the law.

As luck would have it, the plane we were on crashed. Had it not been for a woman who had shielded me with her body, I would have died that day. This woman had the kindest eyes I had ever seen; they looked like molten dark chocolate.

I have heard that when one is breathing their last, they can see their life flash before their eyes. All I can see is Alexander. His eyes.

His eyes, which are a replica of his mother's, look at me with concern. "Look at me. Don't close your eyes." He says, putting pressure on my chest.

Oh, yes. I remember now. David had shot me.

The pain in my chest, which was a soft hum just moments ago, amplifies. I try to speak. There is so much that I want to tell him.

"Just hold on. Janice, can you hear me? Can someone please call the ambulance?" Alexander yells before lowering his eyes to look at me.

I try to speak, but he sashes me. "Conserve your energy. Keep looking at me, okay?" He instructs calmy, but I can see the turmoil within him.

His eyes.

The woman on the plane, my savior, was called Lian Reed. Both she and her husband had died instantly. Meanwhile, I had survived with a bump on the back of my head and a few minor bruises.

I had insisted on attending Mrs. Reed's funeral. I don't know why, but my uncle had agreed and taken me there. At that time, I had thought wistfully that maybe the incident had changed him, alas...

That night, when we returned to the hotel assigned to us by the disaster management team, I saw things before they actually happened, for the first time. First, there was light. Then as it faded, I saw uncle getting undressed and pulling me in his lap. When I opened my eyes, however, he was still getting undressed. Before he could get to me, I screamed and ran into the bathroom. I locked the door and kept on yelling. It was the first time I had stood up for myself.

The next day, uncle was sent to prison. I thought my woes had ended; I was wrong. My bad days were far from over.

I was transferred from one foster home to another. I learned to hide my feelings. I had realized that showing vulnerability would make me a target for bullies. Thankfully, the light looked out for me when no one else did. Then one day, just before I turned sixteen, I killed a man. I slit his throat and watched as the blood pooled around him. In my defense, he had it coming.

"Janice, the ambulance is on the way. Hang on. Just hang on." I hear Alexander's voice. It sounds like it is coming from afar. That couldn't be right, I conclude. I try to focus on his eyes; they were swimming with tears.

Alexander was crying. Was it because he was worried about me?

No one has ever cried for me or with me. You are the first one to do that, Alexander.

"Janice, won't you join us for lunch." Those were Alexander's first words to me.

After getting out of prison, I had studied hard and entered a nursing institute. I had found out that Alexander was planning on becoming a doctor. All I wanted was to help him, serve next to him. That's how I had ended up in Mercy. I had a debt to pay, after all.