Worth Saving

By Stephanie Scissom

“Here lies Hazel. If nothing else, she was considerate.”

Hazel ignored her taunting subconscious and reread the note to her landlord.

Dear Mr. Baxter,

Send authorities to apartment 412. They will find my body inside. Do not come yourself. It is too late. I tried to prevent any mess. Please accept the extra rent enclosed and my apologies.

Hazel

She placed the note inside an envelope with $600 cash. Then she hefted the roll of plastic sheeting she’d bought and trudged to her landlord’s office. A sign stated he would return from vacation Friday and listed a number for emergency calls. She slipped her letter inside the dropbox for non-emergency requests.

There. It was done.

She headed to the elevators.

“Hazel!”

She turned to face her handsome neighbor, Sam.

“Give me that,” he said. “It looks heavy.”

“Thanks,” she said.

He smiled and hoisted it onto his shoulder.

Hazel hurried ahead to hit the elevator button.

“Are you painting?” he asked as they stepped inside. “Because I could help.”

“No.” She pressed the button for the 4th floor. “Just a craft project.”

He walked her to her door.

“Thank you,” Hazel said, taking the roll and retreating inside.

She stretched the plastic across her bed, then fetched a glass of wine and the bottle of oxycodone. With no one to say goodbye to, she swallowed the pills and closed her eyes.

Hazel woke in a hospital bed. Tears scalded her eyes. She couldn’t even kill herself correctly.

A woman walked into the room. “Hello, Hazel. I’m Rebecca, your S.R.”

Hazel didn’t know what that meant, nor did she care. “Please leave me alone.”

The woman seemed familiar, but everything was so hazy.

“Do you remember why you’re here?” Rebecca asked.

“I tried to kill myself.”

“Not tried, dear.”

Hazel blinked, noticing for the first time how white, calm, and serene the room was.

“I’m dead?”

“If you choose, but perhaps you will reconsider. As I said, I’m your S.R.–your Soul Recycler. When some people break, they shatter into so many pieces we can’t put them back together. Others are too corrupted. Then there are souls like yours–beautiful, fractured puzzles with a few missing pieces. They can be made whole again, then lead lives that help others. But you have to choose life.”

“I don’t want to live. What if I choose death?”

“Then you enter the next phase of afterlife, but it’s more difficult if you go into it broken.”

Rebecca clicked on the television.

A young girl lay on her bed in a t-shirt and shorts, drawing. A man walked in and sat beside her–reached for her.

“Stop!” Hazel cried, as the girl scooted away. “Why would you make me watch this?”

The man reached for her again. “You’re gonna be curvy like your mom.”

A woman burst in and dragged him into the hallway. The door slammed shut.

When she reentered, she snatched a pair of jogging pants out of the girl’s dresser and threw them at her.

“You’re almost a woman now. Put some clothes on. You can’t show your body to men like that.”

“Was that real?” Hazel asked. “Someone needs to help that child!”

Rebecca shrugged. “Maybe her mother was right.”

“How can you say that? She didn’t do anything!”

A new scene filled the screen. Hazel watched a young couple in an apartment. The girl cooked while the guy split his attention between the TV and his phone.

Abruptly, he stood and grabbed his jacket. “I’ve got to run by Mom’s for a minute.”

He smiled as he shut the door behind him.

“He’s lying,” Hazel whispered. “I don’t want to see this.”

Another girl waited for him in the parking garage. She climbed in his truck, and he took her in his arms.

A loud smack startled them apart. The girl from the apartment stood there, shocked, palms on the window, tears streaking her cheeks.

She ran back to the apartment, and the guy chased her, slamming the door behind him.

Hazel gasped when he shoved the girl against the wall.

“Who is she?” the girl sobbed.

“She isn’t your business. She’s not like you. She’s fun, gorgeous, and smart. Look at you. You’re lucky to have me.”

Hazel winced. “She needs to leave. No one deserves to be treated like that!”

Other scenes played, some undefinably familiar. Then, the screen went black.

“It’s easy to see when it’s someone else, isn’t it?” Rebecca asked. “What’s it like to know the truth about the things you’ve always blamed yourself for?”

“What?” Hazel whispered, and it became clear.

She was the young girl, scrambling away from her mother’s boyfriend, the young woman betrayed and belittled by the man she loved.

Rebecca smoothed her hair. “You did nothing wrong. You said it yourself. Let go of the things that broke you. If you return, you return stronger. Reinforced. You won’t remember this, but you’ll see people differently. You’ll see yourself differently.” Rebecca smiled. “What if I told you Sam was a former patient, and the reason he’s always trying to talk to you is that your soul shines so bright it nearly blinds him? You’re special, Hazel. You could help so many souls.”

Hazel blinked back tears. Part of her was sure Rebecca was wrong. She wasn’t special.

But what if she was?

Suddenly, she wanted to know. She wanted to live.

“Send me back,” she said.

Hazel woke to Sam shaking her and yelling her name. She was covered with vomit, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Oh, thank God!” He hugged her tight. “I thought I’d lost you. Hang on, Hazel. Help is on the way.”

“How did you know?” she whispered.

“Mr. Baxter left me in charge while he’s away. I checked the lockbox and found your note. Everything’s going to be okay.”

As Sam held her, Hazel felt something she hadn’t felt in a long while: hope.

Maybe she was worth saving, after all.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Stephanie Scissom is from Altamont, Tennessee. She inspects tires and plots murder by night at a tire factory and attends a somewhat excessive number of Jake Owen concerts on her nights off. She’s published in romantic suspense and horror, with four full-length novels and numerous shorts. Her story Dandelions recently placed first in an international competition.

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