《Leslie's Crazy Soul》


 Prologue

    Access to the roof shouldn¡¯t normally be possible for students. Leslie and her friends learned how to get up there months ago, but even then, it would have been improbable if one of them wasn¡¯t dating the RA. Those visits to the top were filled with great memories, gazing at the starry skies, gossiping about last night¡¯s conquest or even occasionally studying when the moment called for it. It¡¯s more than fair to say she took those moments for granted, but Leslie still cherished the time she spent on the roof of the Westchester Hall.


    All she could do in these final moments was cherish the fun she once had. The effort she made to get up to the roof was greater than it ever was before. No friends to join her, no RA to give her access, not even the use of her legs to walk up the small set of stairs to the doorway. However, she decided that this is where it had to happen. Even if she had to drag her wheelchair up with her, she wanted to be able to look over the campus one more time. She couldn¡¯t do that from the ground, not the way she wanted.


    The tears began to streak down her face. She didn¡¯t know any other way to react. Months ago, she would have never imagined doing something like this. She would have been pillow fighting with her roommate or getting cuddled by whoever her choice of person was the night before. She could see herself embarrassing others in tennis practice. Another day of being reminded how great she was when weighed against the world. Months ago, she¡¯d still feel like Leslie.


    Tonight, she felt like nobody. Her tears mixed with the strands of hair on her face, coating them with moisture. The silent sulking soon turned into somber sobbing. Leslie was all alone. The life she once lived was nothing more than an unobtainable vision, slowly fading away. Life¡¯s different when you¡¯re not as mobile as everyone else. It¡¯s harder to be a student and an athlete when the very thing that granted you admission no longer led your life one foot after the other. It¡¯s more difficult to be a friend or a lover when you can¡¯t dance, grind or play. She felt the pain of seeing an audience of admiration turn their backs to her. She checked her phone. No messages, only notifications from a few apps she had long since stopped using. She tossed it onto the ground. No point in breaking an expensive phone when someone else could get her money¡¯s worth out of it.


    Leslie wiped away the tears that restricted her resolve. She began to wheel towards the edge of the building, slowly picking up speed as she closed her eyes. One of her wheels caught something, but it didn¡¯t matter. She felt the momentum carry her off the structure. Her leg hit the edge, but she didn¡¯t mind. She couldn¡¯t feel it anyway. In a few feet, it would be the end. She appreciated the wind stroking her face in her final moment, a brief gasp of comfort in the endless drowning of depression.


    Seconds passed.


    The wind no longer caressed her cheeks. She couldn¡¯t feel the velocity of her descent that was evident before. Was this it? Was this the feeling of the release?


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a proposition for you to consider.¡±


    She heard a voice, gruff and worn. Her eyes open and her sight snapped to a man standing beside her. Grey hair, a hardy mustache and a blue button-up.


    ¡°A-are you . . . God?¡± Leslie asked, baffled by the stranger.


    ¡°Was that your first guess? I mean, I¡¯m not too much for religion, but I doubt suicide would lead you to him in about 80% of them.¡±


    ¡°Are you th-¡°


    ¡°Let me stop you right there,¡± the man interjected. ¡°I figured my previous sentence would tip you off to the fact that I¡¯m not a deity or a demon. Clearly, I pegged you to be more of a sound thinker in the midst of making the most certain decision of your life. So, let¡¯s speed up the process here. Do me a favor and look down.¡±


    Leslie accepted the request with little hesitance. Below her was the ground. The grass that she intended to flop upon stood feet below her and the stranger. Quickly, she began to hyperventilate. Still very high, the fear that she left on the roof finally caught up with her.


    ¡°What?! How?!¡± She screamed.


    ¡°Not a big deal, really. I¡¯m one of the professors here and I managed to exceed the human standard for learning physics. You see that we¡¯re both negating one of the basic laws of it. Since you don¡¯t see your fresh human paste on the ground, you can skip the explanation of being a ghost right off the bat. This isn¡¯t some end-of-your-life hallucination mumbo-jumbo. You were plummeting to your death and I saved you. There you go, all caught up.¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°WHAT DO YOU MEAN ALL CAUGHT UP?¡± Leslie screeched, trying to pull her hand away from the professor.


    ¡°Hold on! I wouldn¡¯t do that if I were you. Let go of me and you¡¯ll go back to being a Tom Petty song.¡±


    ¡° . . . What?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯ll be free fallin¡¯.¡±


    Leslie spaced out, in absolute awe of the moment she had to take in as well as the joke she was forced to hear. After the amazement wore off, she continued to struggle against the handholding educator.


    ¡°Fine! That¡¯s want I wanted anyway,¡± she said, still ignorant of her volume.


    ¡°Come on, now. I¡¯m absolutely serious here. I¡¯ve got an offer to make you.¡±


    The pair began to float to the top of the hall. The higher the height, the lower Leslie¡¯s motivation was to struggle against the professor¡¯s grip. Ironic, when she was falling, she did it prepared to end her life. As she floated, she found her fear of death.


    ¡°I noticed you wheeling around up there completely resigned to suicide, but I wanted to make sure you weren¡¯t that person that just tries it and then punks out at the last second.¡±


    They reached the top of the building. Leslie could see her wheelchair, caught by an errant brick before the ledge. The professor gently placed her back in it before letting his feet touch the ground.


    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡± Leslie¡¯s suicidal thoughts were slowly rewritten into annoyance at the old man.


    ¡°It means that not everyone is a jumper. Some people just think they¡¯re a jumper. A cry for help wrapped in years of media telling them that attempted suicide is a surefire way to get attention,¡± he responded. ¡°Obviously, since you went through with it, you don¡¯t really care much about your life. So, I thought that you wouldn¡¯t mind giving it to me.¡±


    ¡°Giving it to . . . are you trying to make me a slave?¡± Leslie asked, appalled.


    ¡°Woah!¡± The professor jumped back in surprise. ¡°Calm down there, that¡¯s not even close to what I was insinuating. I¡¯m not trying to lose a lifelong career over a topical misunderstanding.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m confused. What do you mean, then?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m working on a bit of an experiment right now. I¡¯m sure you could guess that my experiments are a pretty huge deal since I was just floating in the air.¡±


    ¡°You want me to be a guinea pig?¡±


    ¡°More of a fetal pig, since what I¡¯d be doing is a technically a form of dissection.¡±


    Leslie covered her body instinctively.


    ¡°No, not like that! Geez, for someone who was just ready to off herself a few minutes ago, you sure do have a strong sense of self-preservation,¡± he said, walking towards her. ¡°Look, it¡¯s nothing biological and it¡¯s nothing sexual. I just need a living human person and non-suicidal people tend to not want to subject themselves to any form of experimentation.¡±


    He stopped, giving Leslie the time she needed to calm down. Her mind was still racing. The past 5 minutes could be described as her emotions crashing into each other. Being lifted from her canceled impact left her with a sobering near-death realization. Yet, the feelings that caused her fall still remained. The encapsulating despair didn¡¯t go away; it still plagued her thoughts, even when met with such a peculiar situation.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Leslie finally responded. ¡°What¡¯s the experiment, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Glad you asked,¡± the professor said. ¡°So, after understanding and basically rewriting the laws of physics, I determined that the next step would be taking quantum physics and proving it to be more than theoretical. All a part of a long-term goal over 45 years in the making. In studying quantum mechanics to the absolute limits of human possibility, I discovered a form of science completely untapped by confirming the existence of the very essence of human consciousness.¡±


    ¡°Wait. What does that mean?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I suppose I shouldn¡¯t go any further into detail than necessary, but I discovered the human soul, in fact, does exist.¡±


    Leslie placed her hands on the wheels of her chair.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I know it¡¯s crazy, but we really don¡¯t have time for the suicidal slapstick bit. I¡¯m pretty sure people start getting up for classes in 20 minutes or so. The last thing I want is a bunch of camera phones implicating me in your suicide.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Leslie said. ¡°So what do you want from me, exactly? Professor . . .¡±


    ¡°Hardman. Professor Clyde Hardman. And what I want is pretty simple.¡±


    ¡°And that is?¡±


    ¡°I want to venture through your soul.¡±


    Leslie let go of the wheels.

 Chapter 1

    Alarm: 7:30 am. Class didn''t start for another three hours, but she understood her struggles well enough that she knew she''d need the extra time. She gingerly positioned her legs to drape off the edge of the bed andtook a few deep breaths. It was what she called her moments of meditation. During the early mornings, she rarely heard footsteps from students heading to class. Most of the ones in this building were a bit too wise to even schedule themselves that early. The silence soothed Leslie enough that she could start the day. After she''d become satisfied, she would pull her wheelchair close and lift herself into it. She wheeled into the bathroom, hitting her elbow on the turn. The resulting pain gave her momentary pause. She stifled her displeasure with the hit and continued to the bathroom sink to brush her teeth.


    Leslie wasn''t used to a schedule like this, even after three months of following it. Last semester was spent waking up at the most haphazard times, rushing through her morning routine before dashing to whatever class she''d be a few minutes late for. Leslie found a little bit of serenity in the positives that developed from her unfortunate condition. The amount of time she took was an annoyance, but it allowed her to start the day with more thought and consideration. She could turn on the TV and listen to her favorite vlogger while changing her clothes and grabbing the books she''d need for the day. She appreciated being able to listen to the beauty and makeup tips. She didn''t use them very often these days, but it was nice to have them under her belt. She checked the time tracker of the video. Twenty minutes passed. It was unnoticed, but still expected. She usually managed to spend the first hour trying to get out the door for the day.


    She left her dorm room and wheeled down to the end of the hallway, avoiding the nearest exit outside with a sharp left turn. No wheelchair ramp there. She''d need to move to the other side of the hall to get to the front entrance. A lot of people waved as she passed them. Waving back would mean stopping each time. She opted to give them a simple head nod or some form of verbal acknowledgement. By the time she made it outside, her hands were already too dirty for her liking. She learned a long time ago to wait until she got to her destination, but it was a vexation that she couldn''t adjust to. That dorm should be vacuumed enough that she could at least make it to the dining hall before she noticed the dirt on her hands.


    She arrived to Dayview Dining Hall with nearly ninety minutes remaining before her class started.


    A hand reached out and pulled the door open before Leslie had a chance to press the assist button.


    "Good morning, Leslie," a voice rang out from behind.


    "Good morning, Rob," Leslie responded. Another part of her morning routine. "You finally get a proper night''s rest?"


    "I promise you, I tried."


    "Sure you did," Leslie said as she rolled into the hall.


    Her time in the hall was usually dominated by Rob. He''d follow her to whatever meal she picked out and whatever spot she chose to park in. Most of the time was Rob asking Leslie about some facet of herself. Since she didn''t much of a productive life anymore, the conversation would usually switch off to Rob''s daily habits. Over the weeks, Leslie learned a lot about him and his habits. He wasn''t much of a sleeper, spending a lot of nights gaming or studying because he couldn''t be bothered to do it during the free time he had during the day. A large reason for that is because he would wake up early enough to come and meet her at the dining hall, even on days where he didn''t have classes early in the day. Leslie knew the reason for that too, even if Rob never directly spoke it.


    Leslie spent a lot of nights with Rob''s former roommate, Andre. She had some initial hang-ups about Rob being able to hear everything they were doing, but most times she was far too eager to give it much thought. Eventually, she was properly introduced to Rob and they even share common ground over a love of watching basketball. Months were spent trying to get close with her over watching games and joining whatever party her, Andre and their friends would go to. In Leslie''s mind, it was clear that Rob wanted something else from her. Even after she stopped coming over to the apartment for Andre . . . even after the two roommates separated, he always seemed to find enough time to occupy hers at the beginning of the day.


    It continued like that after the accident, as well. He''d survey her with the same questions about her day because he was biding his time. Is she spending her nights somewhere else? Is she getting frustrated? Stressed? Pent-up? She could almost smell it on him. Tactics of a patient predator.


    Of course, Rob never went in for the kill. This was because Leslie never gave him the opportunity. She stopped visiting the apartment before Andre and Rob separated, limiting almost every instance of meeting Rob to daytime in the quad or dining hall. Every conversation they ever had avoided topics like sex or sexual preferences. Every time she finished her breakfast, she''d excuse herself and head to class, no matter how early she''d get there.


    Rob never showed any sign of frustration at Leslie''s evasion. For Leslie, it''s not as if she found Rob himself repulsive, either. If there was a word for the feeling that caused her to repel him, it would be cautious. She never liked the type of courting that Rob did. It was more manipulative and underhanded to her, approaching her like a friend, waiting for an opportune moment. Would he have done the same if he didn''t hear her and Andre all those nights? Wasn''t he waiting for his "turn"? The thought always parked in the back of her head whenever she saw his face.


    She wouldn''t deny enjoying the conversations they had, though. They were a good distraction from the occasional stares she''d get whenever people walked past. Rob himself never harped on her disability too much either. He rarely asked her if she needed help with the most mundane things.


    "Hey, what are you doing later tonight?" Rob asked.


    "I''ve got to meet with a counselor after I finish my classes," said Leslie. "After that, I''m gonna finish a project that I put off. It''s due tomorrow."


    Both lies. Leslie stopped feeling guilt over it a long time ago. Questions like that were often the markers signifying the end of their conversations. After a few more lines of dialog with him, she''d conclude their talk and make her way to the classroom.


    This time around, she didn''t arrive too early. The class was located on the third floor, right above the entrance door, next to the stairway. Unfortunately for Leslie, she''d need to use the elevator, a bit further back in the building. The trek to the elevator was made slower by the hairs that accumulated in Leslie''s caster wheels. She forgot to clean them. By the time she arrived to the classroom, everyone was settling into their seats.


    "Wow, Leslie," Prof. Godfrey exclaimed. "I''m used to you already being in the room."


    Leslie let out a halfhearted chuckle. "Yeah, me too."This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    The class she took for A+ was always a bit of a slog. They were broken up into groups of four and the three guys in her group kept to themselves. Whenever they saw that she''d have to wheel her way to the other side of the table for something, they''d elect to do it themselves or aggressively demand that another member of the group assist her. Infuriating. There used to be a time where they''d pop at the opportunity to help her learn more about the craft. Towards the beginning of the semester, they were a lot more talkative and helpful. Back then, wanted attention. Now, unwanted pity. They barely looked her in the eye when explaining what they were doing. Leslie spent more time staring at her anti-static wristband every day.


    Maybe that was the reason she tolerated someone like Rob. She missed the attention. She never once denied it, but she tried to revel in her newfound solitary situation. At the end of every day, she could still feel the phantom pain of the social life she once had, lingering through her mind like an unreachable itch. She''d happily trade the awkward stares and social distance for the thirsty looks and romantic crowding. Perhaps it wasn''t even the attention that sated her, but the desire people once had for her. A past nuisance that became the present wish. A man acts different when they''re attracted to you. It''s not helpfulness or kindness, but the willingness to be helpful or kind. That desire became the natural motivation that made her life better.


    The three hours spent in that class dragged for an eternity. After it ended, she''d continue her schedule and head back to Dayview for lunch. Although the Teague dining hall was closer, it was an older building. She didn''t feel like putting all her strength into rolling up that steep ramp, especially with the hair clogging her caster wheels. This time, there was no helping hand to pull the door open. Honestly, she was fine with it. After spending half of the day with people acting awkward, she would rather have a quick lunch and then head back to her dorm.


    She grabbed a salad and some stir fry before moving towards an emptier section of the hall, pulling a chair away from a table to park herself in that spot.


    She people-watched as if they all lived on a monitor. She tuned into the newest episode of college life and fantasized being a part of the cast. No, she fantasized being the star again. Leslie Harris, tennis star and friend to all. To be clich¨¦, she''d hold the racquet in hand, laughing with Minnie, Kindra, Tone and Lindsey.


    As if summoned from Leslie''s mind, Lindsey suddenly walked across her sight. Two months passed since she last spotted Lindsay or her other friends around the campus. As she caught Lindsay''s eye, she gave a timid wave. Lindsay''s face showed momentary shock before waving back and forcing a smile. Leslie never thought she''d be on this side of that smile. The same smile she''d given to people interested in her. The one she''d wear whenever she was on the phone with a relative.


    Lindsey sped towards her destination. A table full of students. A few faces Leslie recognized. Tone and Minnie among a group of others. They all turned to look in Leslie''s direction. Lindsey tipped them off to her presence. Maybe they didn''t know what time she usually went to lunch? False, Minnie knew her schedule pretty well. So, it was more than certainly avoidance. Leslie lost her appetite. She backed away from the table, leaving behind her half-eaten salad and untouched stir-fry.


    Minnie dismissed herself from the group and rushed over to the exit before Leslie could push the door.


    "Leslie, wait," Minnie yelled. "I''m so sorry. We would have invited you-"


    "So, why didn''t you?" Leslie cut her off. "You know my schedule."


    "We came in with Tim and his friends," said Minnie. "We didn''t plan to come originally."


    "That''s bullshit," Leslie said, losing her cool. "You know how I know that''s bullshit, Minnie? Because you''re over here apologizing to me!"


    Leslie''s yelp attracted the attention of the people sitting at the tables near the entrance, but she didn''t care. It was still better than the stares she''d normally get.


    "How is it that the first time I see you, out of the few minutes you spend visiting my dorm, is in dining hall with the rest of my so-called friends? Are you going to tell me that you all were planning to visit after this?"


    "It''s not like that, Leslie!" Minnie''s eyes began to swell with tears, "We''re not excluding you on purpose."


    "Yeah, but you guys are excluding me," said Leslie. She turned to exit before the tears could stream down Minnie''s face.


    As far as she was concerned, any response that Minnie could give was as fake as the rest of her excuse. They treated her like a patient in the ICU, coming to visit when their schedule was free enough. And yet, when she was out in the open, she didn''t get so much as a text message to meet up. They hid the inconvenience under guise of random chance. At that point, there was no reason to continue the conversation.


    As she rolled down the ramp, Leslie could see Rob heading her way, accompanied by two unfamiliar girls, all laughing.


    Of course. A patient predator still has to eat, right? Why pine over a single prey when the forest is full?


    Rob noticed Leslie and waved.


    "Hey Leslie," he said.


    No waiting for a response, no pausing. Without missing a beat, Rob and the two girls walked right past Leslie and into Dayview.


    She rolled vigorously until she arrived at the front door of Westchester Hall, her dorm. She pressed the assist button, but the two doors didn''t budge. The button was broken. Leslie pulled the handle of the door with fury, the momentum running her elbow into the wall. It was the same elbow she hurt earlier in the day.


    "Fuck!" she said, unable to stifle her pain.


    One of the students standing near the entrance approached the door, ready to help Leslie, but stopped when they noticed her intense stare.


    Leslie continued her trip back up to her dorm unabated. Once she reached her room, she closed her room door and rolled over to her bed.


    "Ouch," she cried somberly.


    She continued to cry. The pain in her elbow became the trigger pulled on a stressful day.


    It wasn''t new.


    It should have been another day. It should have felt the same as every other. Since her suicide attempt, every day had the same tinge of gray. Every trip back to her dorm became another appointment for a sobbing session. No one ever came to console her. None of her friends ever asked how she was feeling. Not a single call from her parents since that day in the hospital.


    Memories of the roof appeared. With them, she could see Prof. Hardman standing there.


    ---------


    Clyde Hardman dismissed his class hours ago. He still sat at his desk, manually grading exams, burning away his time for as long as he could. His attention was diverted as he heard a knock from the back of the classroom. Leslie wheeled in, too weak to push her wheelchair with any type of fervor.


    "I''ll do it," she said, looking down into her own lap.


    "Just so I''m clear," Prof. Hardman started, "you are talking to me and not yourself, right? Because that phrase is pretty vague and I don''t want any sitcom-like misunderstandings."


    Leslie lifted her head so that she made eye contact with the professor. Her eyes were still puffy.


    "I''ll be your guinea pig," Leslie said.


    "Fetal pig," Hardman responded.


    "Whatever," Leslie said softly. "Can I ask for something in return?"


    "As long as it''s not an A," Hardman said. "Can''t even tell you how many students tried that trade-off today."


    "When we''re done, can you make it so that I can die in the most peaceful way possible?"


    Prof. Hardman squinted his eyes, seemingly to focus on Leslie''s request. After a few seconds passed, he nodded.


    "I can do that for you. It''s the least I can do." Prof. Hardman began putting things away in preparation of leaving. He left a single piece of paper on his desk and took out a pen, scribbling something down. Once he finished, he put the pen back in his pocket and handed the paper to Leslie. "Meet me here tomorrow. We can get started right away. I''ve already requested the time off.¡±