Chapter 5 The Morning After

Helena's Pov

My head was banging, it was like elephants were jumping inside my skull.

I rubbed the sides of my head, trying to remember how I ended up in my bed and my pyjamas. It looked like the room was spinning.

Last night was a blur. The only thing I could remember was going to a party and getting drunk after taking a drink.

But after that? Nothing. I suddenly remembered why I hated alcohol.

I turned to check the clock on my bedside table. It's 8:30 a.m., and the sun slices through the gap in my curtains, stabbing my eyes.

I should be writing, but my brain feels like it's been microwaved.

I heard my phone ring, and following the sound I saw it lying on the floor.

I went to pick it up, but it slipped from my hand and fell with the screen facing the floor.

I knelt and picked it up without looking at the screen.

I silently prayed nothing had happened to it.

But I noticed the screen was cracked, and to make matters worse, it wasn't coming on no matter how much I tried switching it back on.

I sighed and lay on the floor. Why did I go out? I should have just stayed in bed, now I have to spend more money on repairing my phone.

I finally stood up when my stomach grumbled, I dragged my body to the kitchen to check for food, but I had none. Can this day get any worse?

I munched on a chocolate bar I had bought a few days ago and rushed to shower.

After dressing up, I took my damaged phone and my purse and rushed off to the grocery store.

Grocery shopping isn't exactly thrilling, but it's necessary. Besides, I need to clear my head after last night's mysterious blackout.

I felt I was forgetting something big, something important.

I grabbed a cart and walked through the aisles, tossing in the essentials like bread, eggs, and a cheap bottle of wine.

Maybe drinking will bring back little memories from last night. Or maybe it'll just give me a headache to match the one from this morning.

As I reach for a bag of spinach, a sign catches my eye

. "Help Wanted." It was taped to the customer service desk, written in bold letters with a phone number at the bottom.

They needed more workers and I needed more money. Maybe today wasn't a bad day after all.

I hesitate, my fingers tracing the edge of the sign. But I'm a writer. A failed one, sure, but still.

Now I'm considering a job at the local grocery store. What sort of life twist is this?

Biting my nail, I dial the number, my heart racing. A tired voice answers, "Santa Catalina Market. What can I do for ya?"

"Hi," I say, my voice too high-pitched. "I saw your sign. Are you still hiring?"

"Depends," he replies. "What can you do?"

What can I do?

"Anything. I'm a quick learner," I say. "I'm reliable, strong, and customer friendly,"

Silence on the other end. Maybe I shouldn't have called.

"Name's Solomon," he finally says. "Come by tomorrow afternoon. We'll see if you're as hardworking as you say you are."

I thank him and hang up. I walked around to the cereal section, tossed a few in, and went to pay. Now that I'm done shopping I still need to go to the phone store.

The phone store smells like solder and old paper. I clutch my purse, hoping the technician can work some magic.

But as he examined the shattered screen, his facial expressions made my heart ache.

"Sorry miss," he says, shaking his head. "This thing's toast. You have to buy a new one. Is this backed up?"

Great. Just great. My bank account is already gasping for air, and now I need to add a "new phone" to the debit list.

"Yes, it is," I replied.

"Same type?" He asked before giving me back my cracked phone.

"Yes." I sighed and watched him bring out a new phone from the showcase. After paying, I thanked the guy and walked out.

As I step out onto the sidewalk, the sun blinds me. I squint my eyes, trying to see if there is a taxi close by.

That's when I hear it-the screech of tyres, the blaring horn and the screaming of people. I turn, and there it is.

A car speeding toward me like the driver was being chased by cheetahs.

My brain freezes.

I should jump out of the way.

But it was like my legs were cemented to the ground. I tried moving again, forcing myself, but I had no control over my own body.

It was like something or someone was preventing me from moving, and the side of my neck was starting to ache. Is this it? The end?

But then, out of nowhere, a blur of denim and sneakers tackles me.

We crashed to the pavement, my body wrapped in another, and my head was buried in someone's hard chest.

My neck was aching, but it was nothing compared to the sound of glass shattering and metals crunching as the car slammed into the phone repair shop.

I could only hear my heartbeat and the ringing in my head. I was sure my heart skipped a few beats and I was shaking like crazy.

"You okay?" I heard the tackler ask. He sounded too calm for the situation we were in.

I nod, still in shock. "Yeah, tha thanks. Yo you ook?" I stammered while looking up. His face looked familiar. He was the same guy that saved yesterday.

He stood up and helped me up, "I'm fine, just happened to be passing by. Lucky timing, I guess."

"Lucky timing!? More like divine intervention, you saved me from drowning yesterday. And now...." I trailed off and turned my head back to the damaged car, the shattered window, the twisted metal. If he hadn't tackled me, I'd be a smashed potato right now. "You're my hero," I blurt out.

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck and looking back to the damaged car. "I don't think that was yesterday, but I'm just a guy who hates seeing beautiful ladies get hurt." He looked down on the ground. "But I guess there is no saving grace for your groceries, Miss? Mrs?" He asked, smirking.

Shit, my groceries.

Some were scattered on the floor, and some were intact

I sighed in relief when I noticed my new phone was unscratched in my purse, but I wouldn't say the same for the old one.

"Miss," I say, still shaky. "My name's Helena."

"Jacob," he replies. "Nice to meet you, Miss Helena."

"Nice to meet you too, Mr Jacob. I owe you."

"You're welcome. You could repay me with a drink and your number." He said, winking at me.

"Sure." As I called out my number, I noticed him staring at me, I tried to ignore his gaze, and then he stretched his hand and moved my hair to the back, revealing my neck.

"Oh, you've been marked," He said, smiling.

"What?". I asked, "What's he talking about?" "What do you mean marked?" I asked again, "I only came here to repair my phone."

He smiled and pointed to the side of my neck. "Here, it wasn't there on the day we met. It's still very faint, though." Then he suddenly stopped smiling and stared in another direction.

"Are you joking?" I touched my nape, I felt it sting a little, but it should be because I was tackled to the ground.

And I don't remember seeing anything today when I was showering. Is he high on something?

"Which pack are you from?" He asked, looking back at me.

Which pack am I from? Why does that question sound familiar?

"Hmm, Chicago."

I said in a low voice. I don't know why I said that, but I felt like I had been asked this question before, and Chicago seemed like the right answer.

"What? Chicago?" Jacob asked. He looked confused.

Suddenly, a memory came.

I looked like I was having the same discussion with a guy in his car and then kissing him.

I quickly snapped out of it when I heard Jacob laugh.

"What sort of messed up man names his pack Chicago?" He laughed, placing his hands on his chest and throwing his head back. I stared at him confused and lost.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your new life, and I hope we meet again, Helena. Be more careful next time." He looked away again before walking away, waving. Leaving me in the middle of the sound of ambulances and chaos.

Where did that memory come from? Was it from last night? What other thing did I do?