Chapter 1

He was five years old when I saved him. It was 2 a.m. when his parents arrived at my door, the boy lying limp in his father's arms, his mother standing by his side with one of the most fearful expressions a human can wear.

The boy was rushed to one of the spare rooms in my estate that were generally reserved for patients who would require 24 hour care...patients who were usually sentenced mere days or hours to live.

I so clearly remember all the sounds that night. The slow footsteps as a father exhaustedly paced, the occasional sound of a mother's voice on the verge of breaking. I remember the very low sounds of thunder in the distance, the thick humidity in the air promising that a storm would be present in more than just my house that night. But above all, I will never forget the raspy, desperate breaths that emerged from the small figure on the bed. Sweat drenched and paler than the white walls of the room,  five-year-old Harry Maddox's pneumonia had taken the worst turn it could, the boy very much more dead than alive. I remember.

And the clock on the wall went tick, tick, tick...

--------------------------------------------FIVE YEARS LATER-------------------------------------------

A circle of pale, depressed, blank faces attached to darkly clad figures surrounded the casket of Virginia Maddox. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the sky was remarkably dark and gray. The black casket lie on a long, slender stone table above the grassy lawn of the church cemetery. The air was warm yet unmoving, just as the statue-like attendees of the ceremony. I had arrived late, I'll admit, and thoughts about Virginia's last days in my care before the cancer consumed her lurked in my mind, blotting out the rehearsed words of the reverend. It had been a six month battle, a half-year journey that had transformed her from the jovial 34-year-old woman she had been into the frail, desperate structure that she was when she died just four days earlier. During those six months, I had watched Arthur go through the living hell of helplessness as he watched his wife of over a decade slip through the cracks and perish. And Harry...

My brow furrowed as I tried to recall how many times I had actually seen him present in the Maddox household whenever I visited to attend to his mother's medical needs during this whole ordeal. Twice...no, maybe three times...

Yes, his presence had been a mystery to me whenever I visited his family's home to care for Virginia. I often wondered what had happened to the young boy I had managed to save against all odds from death's delight on that stormy autumn night five years previous. After his healing and spending weeks in my care after that incident, his grateful parents departed and I was never summoned for medical expertise by the Maddox family again until this recent tragedy with his mother. As I began to care for the deteriorating woman, I would also cast curious glances whenever I walked through the household, wanting to catch just a glimpse of the more grown-up Harry that I had not seen for five years. After watching him pull through the pneumonia, watching his amazing strength and determination and as he fought for recovery had given me a special fondness for the boy.

On those few occasions when I actually did catch a glimpse of the now 10-year-old boy in his family's home when I visited, his eyes always made me stop cold in my tracks. Large, dark blue, and more piercing than those of any other person I knew. I can't remember him speaking much at all. His short hair was neatly trimmed yet messy, and his lean figure uncommonly pale, as if he had never 100% regained his color after his deathly illness. On those few times we actually ran into each other, our eyes would lock and I would try to give a fatherly yet sympathetic smile as way of greeting -- I was, after all, not there for any happy occasion. But I do remember how he never smiled, how his eyes stared with such an unblinking intensity that I had to avert my gaze and seek some apologetic excuse to leave the room...

"...in peace for all eternity. Amen."

The reverend had finished. A few dozen resounding "Amens" were murmured in unison, and I awoke from my reverie and looked across the circle to see the pitiful countenance Arthur Maddox. He looked even more worn that when I had seen him after Virginia died just days ago, his skin looking almost malnourished and dark circles worn under his eyes. He looked so much older, I speculated, and as the small crowd slowly began to depart I made my way over to him and outstretched my hand. Arthur reached out to shake it, but the embrace ended in a brotherly hug as he offered me many thanks for my assistance during the last six months. 

"I just...I don't know what else we would have done. She wouldn't have lasted two months if it wasn't for your help, Chase."

I shook my head. "Arthur, you know I only wish I could have done more. Arthur, I'm so sorry it ended like this."

He continued in a frail, emotionally unstable voice, but I was instantly distracted by the pair of deep blue eyes that looked at me from behind his father. Arthur's voice ceased as he followed my gaze to that of his son's. "Oh, Dr. Chase, you of course remember Harry." He gestured his son closer, and the boy stepped nearer, eyes piercing mine without pause. "Harry and I are so grateful, Doctor, for everything you've done."

If Harry was grateful, it was unreadable. In fact, if Harry was anything, it was unreadable. His eyes weren't dead -- they burned with a passion for something. But what exactly it was, I couldn't tell. 

"Dr. Chase." He spoke the words as if tasting them, in a fathoming way. Simply hearing him speak took me aback. His voice was quiet yet strong. "She's dead now."

Suddenly I heard a hint of pain in those unexpected words. She's dead now? Well, yes, she is. Yes, that's why we're here...

Arthur Maddox stared with weak and watery eyes at his son, perhaps equally as distracted by the boy's words as I was. "Ah, um, Harry...Mr. and Mrs. Tyler brought us flowers, they're over there by the church steps. Would you please go gather them? We'll be...we'll be going home soon."

It hurt to hear the hurt in his voice as he acknowledged to himself that his wife wouldn't be coming with him this time. He glanced painfully at the black coffin, and I quickly looked down at my shoes, breaking uncomfortable eye contact with the boy as he obediently and slowly walked toward the church. Finally I felt the rain begin to fall lightly.

"I'm just...waiting to wake up." I looked up again as I heard Arthur speak, but this time I saw it wasn't directed at me; his gaze was still painfully locked on the casket. I realized it was over, he needed to be alone now, and slowly I turned away from the cemetery toward my car. Just as I reached it, I looked back over my shoulder to see a young boy holding a bouquet of flowers, standing beside a long black casket, a discernible look of longing on his face. I got behind the wheel, feeling overwhelmed with thoughts. She's dead now. I took a deep breath. She's dead now.

Just as I began to accelerate and pull away I glanced in my rear view mirror at the mass of gravestones behind me, at one black coffin and a pair of intense eyes that unwaveringly looked straight at me.