The Death That Never Existed

We both sit on the warm sand in front of my Santa Monica home for hours, watching the black, misty waves crash in front of us at 3 am.  After hours of silence, I turn to face Jada. 

Jada’s fear and love in her eyes make her thoughts clear; she disapproves of my engagement. 

We talk telepathically about the risk of being exposed as an immortal. 

What if Jason finds out after I cut my hand chopping onions?  What if I fall and break a bone?  What happens when Jason ages and I do not? 

Jason asking questions is a recipe for disaster, because I am already lying to him. 

How will I “die” when I must leave him?

My telepathic answer is none; I have no plans of leaving Jason, even though I must eventually.  My response to Jada is,

“I could never leave him; this will kill me worse than any death could.” 

Jada’s response,

“You have to, we are not meant to live our full immortal lives in this world…you know this.”

My response is silence, which confirms that Jada is right.  I understand this truth, which I could never run away from.

We argue silently about how my upcoming marriage affects all immortals.  Jada explains the consequences of being found out by the FBI, CIA, or even an overzealous doctor who experiments on animals.  We would be praying for death, but it would never come, as we are being experimented on for eternity. 

“We must protect our immortality…no matter what.”  

I nod in silence.  I know what I must do, and I will in time.  I express this to Jada telepathically. 

“Please support me, even though you disagree?”

Instead of responding, Jada turns to me in the sand, she looks me in the eye, and I am flooded with Jada’s memories.  I hear Jada’s voice as I go back further into her mind to a different time.  I’m walking in the grass, dirty, carrying a bucket of water to a small, poorly built stone house.

“My first ‘death’ was here.  I stayed too long in my first life, and I did not age a day over 25.  I was 60 years old.  I knew that I was different, and so did everyone else. 

I lived alone in this house and was ostracized by my chosen family, their children, and grandchildren.  I was seen as a witch and the devil. 

This was the loneliest time in my life. 

And I had nowhere else to go; this was my home since being kidnapped into slavery from the island of Curacao.  I felt trapped in my own existence; no one was like me anywhere. 

My days alone ended at this moment.

“Witch, witch, burn the witch”…I heard the voices behind me and immediately dropped my bucket to run.

 I was not fast enough.

Two men I’ve never seen grabbed my arms and legs and carried me.  While running, 4 other men assisted in carrying me until they dropped me in front of a podium the size of 2 cottages that smelled of ash and death.

I screamed until I lost my voice, repeating “I’m not a witch, I AM NOT A WITCH!”  I have never been more afraid in my life.  I cried until my eyes bled.  I was frantic because no one listened.

Instead, the two men who carried me poured liquid on me.  The stench choked me into a coughing fit.  By this time, a group of people had gathered to watch, including my family’s grandchildren. 

With sadness and entitlement in their eyes, they believed the two men.  There was a hint of happiness in their hearts; they were glad to get rid of me, someone who tarnished their reputation. 

I knew there was no hope for me. 

The two men made me stand up and used ropes to tie my arms and legs to a cross above the podium.  Suddenly, a woman in a black coat comes up to me with a stick full of fire, and everyone pauses.  I discovered a power before my ‘death’, and I could not control it. 

I saw all faces and movements frozen, mouths open to the words, “Satan, Jezebel, burn her”.  Stunned, I struggled to move and free myself.  The ropes were too tight.

And everyone started to move again.

The stick fell below my feet, and I smelled smoke...the pain was unimaginable.  With every scream from my lungs, the group cheered and celebrated.  Before the world turned black, I smelled my own flesh and heard the cheers…they never stopped.

Tara’s mind drifts back to the present.  With tears in both of their eyes, Tara hugged Jada so tightly that she could barely breathe. 

“You never talked about this time of your life.  I understand why now.”  Your past will never happen to you again, Jada.  I promise.