Chapter 6: Homecoming

**Jamie's POV**

It was around three in the afternoon when the Voice started whispering:

I was in my room; it's been two weeks since I first started my exercise routine every morning before I take a shower. And, to my satisfaction, I've started to re-develop the defined muscles of my chest, abdomen and arms. However, I never forgot about the book. Never did I forget about the book.

"They were coming: the darkness seeped through the crevice of the door as the man stood, unmoving, outside. His silhouette cast a dark pool outside the room as he put his hand on the door. Suddenly, a blinding white light pooled around the edges of his shadow and he was blasted from the door.

'Esther…' John's voice whispered in her mind. She sobbed. His voice was a salve to the aches and the pain she has endured since he fell at the hands of the man outside.

'Fight, my love, fight…' his voice whispered, urgently, this time more voices joined in his whisper, a cacophony of spectral whispers that pierced through the silence in the room. The man was gone for the moment, along with his horde of dark spirits. But he would return soon.

Esther put her hand to her ears. 'I can't do it… John! Help me!' she yelled in her mind.

The man was back there again. This time the shadows clung to him, giving him more power as he put his hand to the door. But instead of being blasted away, the door itself began to wither as darkness gnawed at the edges.

Frightened, Esther withdrew to her mind.

'Fight, love…' John whispered, if she tried hard enough, she could feel his caress as if her were right beside her, soothing the pains of today's wound. Then, he would kiss her and they would go to sleep underneath the blanket of stars.

'Fight for us, Miss.' a tiny voice whispered. Victim 43; Aaron Hughes, the Child of Fire: The boy, who was only ten years old at the time, was burned in his own backyard.

'Yeah, you can take that bastard down!' another voice whispered, louder than the others. Victim 39; Freddy Drew, Hand of Lightning: He was attending the bachelor party of Esther's good friend, Joseph Rey, when he was lured to the roof and was killed via electrocution.

'We will fight with you.' A solemn voice whispered. Victim 24; Christine Maria, Lady of the Sea: she was attending the beach volleyball tournament of her brother when she was knocked out behind the stands and was drowned in the girls' toilet nearby. Her body was then taken by boat and was dumped in the ocean.

More whispers pledged their assistance and powers to Esther. Esther slowly withdrew from her mind as the spirits started to surround her. Their piercing cacophony all intermingling to form one solid, powerful, oath:

'We will fight.'"

.

.

.

Jamie…

I ignored it. I was so close! The climax is but a few paragraphs away as I continued to type furiously on the document.

Jamie… Jamie… Jamie…

I froze, my hand hovering above the space bar. There is only one Voice. Since I was put in the asylum the voices formed together to form one slightly more solid Voice. Don't ask me how, I don't know myself. But, like all the other weirdness that was me, I took it in stride.

Jamie… Jamie… Jamie… Jamie… Jamie…

A slight breeze wafted in from outside. I shivered. The wind was cold, like winter itself came to visit the asylum's hall.

Jamie!

I jumped. That wasn't a figment of my imagination. It was real. I could feel it. It had a more solid… texture? No, that's not the word; form? Can be… oh, whatever. But where did it come from? I glanced around the room, checking for any kind of disturbance; under my bed, the small bathroom, under my desk… nothing.

I looked outside the small window on my door. There was nothing outside of any interest that could be the source of the exclamation. The dull ochre of the walls seemed to mock me of my limited view as I tried look past the bars of my window for the source of the whispering.

"It was nothing." I sighed to myself. This could be a higher stage of my "mental illness". Though, I highly doubt that. Still, the fact remained at the back of my mind like a splinter that you can't get rid of. Small, yet it gets to your attention if you're not doing anything to take your mind off it.

A small pang of fear entered my mind. But I quickly dismissed it. I'm in a mental asylum for Pete's sake. There's no safer place for nutjobs like me on Earth. I sighed sadly at the thought. Though I'm bright in my own way, the Voice remains a hindrance to my writing career. Who would want to read the works of a nutjob?

I was about to turn my back on the window when a hand clamped on my mouth.

**Jack's POV**

I was already at the fourth level of the basement section when the one of the Wind scouts howled. I froze, then without a second thought, a dashed over to the nearest staircase and began to fly.

I began to focus my thoughts on that specific gust, asking it to take a more corporeal form and give me eyes and ears. The Wind obeyed, of course. And as I was about to enter the floor, I saw Jamie.

'Oh, Jamie…' I thought, eyes tearing up. I don't know whether it's from sadness or relief, or both. Either way, I found what I came for;

He was tall, taller than me by an inch or so. His brown hair was messy, but not unkempt. His skin was tan, but not overly so. He still retained the little bit paleness that accompanied him when he was a child. Freckles dotted his defined facial features, and muscular arms held hands that typed furiously on his "laptop". I expected his eyes to be haunted; the eyes of a soldier that has seen too much death, or at least the eyes of someone who's felt so much in so little time, and has suffered the consequences for it. A dead look. Empty eyes.

Yet, I didn't see anything like that with him. His eyes were alive, like they held no negativity whatsoever. However, I could see darkness that wasn't there before. A sadness that every once in a while misted his eyes over. But he only typed harder whenever his eyes misted.

My heart clenched. I closed the connection with the scout. I repeated his name over and over again as I flew around the floor and corridors, trying to find his room.

There!

The Wind is gone. But I saw the back of Jamie's head, his messy halo of chocolate hair, through the bars of the door. His head was bowed, like he had given up. Another painful clench.

He was shifting and Jack was immediately by the door. I saw Jamie was moving away from the door.

NO!

I immediately put my arm through the bars and put it over his mouth.

SORRY FOR SHORT CHAPTER, A CLIFFHANGER IS IN ORDER! :D

Note: I shall abandon this story for a while to work on others… sorry! I feel trapped when I focus ALL my powers in one fanfic... FORGIVE ME! *runs away from angry mob*