Soulless

Well, This Doesn't Seem Right

Rey hadn't felt anything since the devil had visited, which was not what she had been expecting. She had thought that only her depression would be gone, instead, every emotion had faded. Perhaps she could have found a better solution.

She still knew when she should have been embarrassed, when fake smiles or forced tears were necessary. Her morals became looser, but she followed them because that's what she had always done.

There were upsides, however. Anger couldn't spur her into rash decisions. She couldn't fear failure. Insults didn't bother her; they bounced off her neutrality. She was fine with being unemotional. Until the day she wasn't.

_______________

It was a perfectly normal Friday. School had just ended, and Rey was walking back home with Devon next to Willard's Canal, a fairly narrow waterway that ran through the park. There were steps that led down to the water on either side, and during summer children would play there, trying to catch crabs or floating paper boats to the other side. On rainy days the water could rise fairly high, and the currents could certainly take an unskilled swimmer.

It was raining, but neither of the girls minded because they were both wearing thick sweatshirts. The air was humid and stuck Rey's sweatshirt to her freckled skin, her short black hair hung, soaking, down her back. Devon's long, bleached white hair, didn't fair much better. The canal was a dark green, and covered almost half of the steps leading up.

"Hey," Devon said, nudging her with a damp arm. "How much you wanna bet that I can jump across the river?"

Rey stopped and looked at her, pretending to study her broad shoulders and athletic build. Dangerous, part of her whispered. She'll be fine, Rey shrugged.

"Bet you can't," she grinned. Devon scoffed and pretended to be offended.

"Watch me, honey," she laughed, already walking down the steps. So Rey did watch. Devon leaped across once, twice and then a third time, landing on the other side with a bow. Rey smiled.

"God, you're extra," Rey said, walking down the steps and carefully stepping around slippery blobs of algae. She walked down until the tips of her dirtied running shoes touched the shallow water on one of the steps. Then she jumped, almost slipping, but quickly regaining her balance on the other side.

Devon clapped and slung an arm over Rey's shoulder.  

"Lets jump back together, yeah?" Devon bumped in Rey playfully. Rey agreed by offering her hand for Devon to take.

"On three?"

Rey nodded.

"One.. two...three."

They jumped, arms pinwheeling, and hands gripping each other tightly. Rey landed firmly. Devon almost did. She was off balance and leaning too far back, her free hand was making frantic grabs at the humid air and their connected hands were white-knuckled, but slipping.

Rey's other hand shot out, reaching for the falling girl's shoulder, but Devon had leaned back, and Rey's hand pushed her back instead of pulling her forward. Then suddenly, Devon's hand wasn't in hers anymore and her eyes met wide, fearful ones that were falling backward, and she knew what was going to happen, but her hands kept grasping nothing but air, reaching, stretching and missing.

Devon's head hit the algae-covered concrete wall with a loud, resounding thud. Her limp body hit the water an almost comical splash. Her body disappeared underneath and then resurfaced, the currents sweeping her down the green canal.

Rey jogged along, knowing she should be panicking, because while Devon was a good player at almost every sport, swimming was the one thing-- the one goddamned  thing-- she had never been good at, even when she was conscious.

She tripped as a loud shriek startled her. Across the river, a little farther ahead, stood a woman in a crisp suit with a hand over her open mouth. The lady looked up and saw Rey, and despite being a distance away, the girl could see the lady's eyes jumping back and forth as she pieced the pieces of information together and jumped to the wrong conclusion.

"My friend-we were playing- she fell, tripped, I don't know.." Rey trailed off, hoping the lady would pick up on her panicked undertones. She didn't-just stared at Devon, floating down the river. "Can you, um, call the cops- I think she's unconscious? And she can't swim," she added.

The lady hesitated, then whipped out a smartphone from her black handbag. Five minutes later a small mob had pulled Devon out of the river and was frantically trying to wake her--except that since none of them had any medical experience, it wasn't doing any good.

Police cars and an ambulance arrived next, and asked a few questions. Rey answered them calmly. They checked for a pulse and tried CPR, before they determined that the cause of death was drowning. They asked her for guardian contacts, and she recited them as flatly as a teacher repeating directions for the fifth time. Someone that Rey assumed was a coroner picked the black body bag up and drove away.

The crowd eventually dispersed, but not until half them had told her how sorry they were for her loss. She had nodded and stayed put, ignoring offers for a ride home while sitting on an old bench that probably wasn't the cleanest, too preoccupied with asking herself why she couldn't feel anything to answer.

Water droplets beaded on the white ribcage on her wrist, and she was starting to think that if she hadn't been so selfish, so utterly stupid, Devon would have had a friend to actually feel guilty, or sad, or even in shock. But she felt absolutely nothing, even though she knew she should have felt something. She had known Devon for almost five years, and been friends with her for almost three. Rey had practically killed her, for Christ's sake, and any decent percent would probably be stuck in therapy for a year- any decent, normal person that hadn't sold their fucking soul  because they couldn't think of any other way to deal with depression.

"You have it, too." A concerned voice interrupted her thoughts. "Assuming that it's not a tattoo, at least."

"I-no, it's not a tattoo it's.. Um-" stuttered Rey, looking up to see a man wearing a faded Captain America shirt, carrying a grocery bag and a bent umbrella.

"You've made a mistake," he said, studying her, "But I guess you know that already."

Rey hesitated, wondering if he was saying what she thought he was.

The man sighed and sat down next to her, then carefully leaned his umbrella against the back of the bench so that it covered both of them. He took off the watch he was wearing and turned his wrist upward, revealing the same skeleton that Rey had.

"I thought it was a good idea at the time, too," His voice was flat, and it reminded Rey of hers. He shrugged and put his watch back on. Neither of them said anything for awhile.

"Have you tried getting it back yet?" He asked, not turning to look at her.

"No."

"I did."

"It didn't work?" Rey turned and looked at him.

There was a pause.

"Almost did." He said. "I could see it. The colors, its movement, everything."

He turned and looked at her.

"Something with wings caught me before I could grab it."

"I'm sorry," she said, forcing sympathy into her voice.

He snorted. "No you're not."

"I want to be."

He nodded. "Yeah, I get that." Another pause. "Kid, how far would you go to get your soul back?"

"Hell and back," Rey replied, looking back out at the canal.

"We can help each other, then." He grabbed his umbrella and, bag in hand, stood. "Go to the bowling alley on Main Street tomorrow night. Ask for Travis."

He walked a few steps, then turned his head back to look at her.

"We're gonna get our souls back."