Soul's Survivor Read online

  Soul’s Survivor

  Navi’ Robins

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1 - Inner Demons Never Sleep

  Chapter 2 - Empty Routine

  Chapter 3 - Opening Old Wounds

  Chapter 4 - Unforgettable

  Chapter 5 - Defibrillator

  Chapter 6 - Breaking Point

  Chapter 7 - Acceptance

  Chapter 8 - An Uncomfortable Arrangement

  Chapter 9 - In-Home Care

  Chapter 10 - Change Can Be Traumatic and Orgasmic

  Chapter 11 - The Morning After

  Chapter 12 - The Calm before the Storm

  Chapter 13 - After the Love Is Gone

  Chapter 14 - Back to Work

  Chapter 15 - Hide and Peek

  Chapter 16 - Getting It Out in the Open

  Chapter 17 - Unhappy Holidays

  Chapter 18 - Prepare for the Worst . . .

  Chapter 19 - The Interview

  Chapter 20 - Crucifixion

  Chapter 21 - Resurrection

  Chapter 22 - Let’s Get Ready to Rumble

  Chapter 23 - First Round Knockdown

  Chapter 24 - The Countdown

  Chapter 25 - The Comeback Kid

  Chapter 26 - Rumble in the Jungle

  Chapter 27 - The Final Bell

  Chapter 28 - 24 Hours

  Chapter 29 - A Miracle, Judgment And a Most Exhilarating Thank You

  Urban Books, LLC

  300 Farmingdale Road, N.Y.-Route 109

  Farmingdale, NY 11735

  Soul’s Survivor Copyright © 2020 Navi’ Robins

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  ISBN: 978-1-6455-6034-0

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.

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  Chapter 1

  Inner Demons Never Sleep

  The heat from the afternoon sun seemed to intensify as gunfire and terrified screams surrounded him from every corner of the small village. Dozens of midnight-skinned bodies lay mutilated in pools of blood that seemed to boil under the scorching hot African sun. In his arms lay an African girl no older than 5 . . . eyes wide open and lifeless. Her body was riddled with the bullets that violently snatched the life of a promising future full of potential. Regardless of her age, she was raped and gunned down like a rabid dog by monsters disguised as men, who didn’t care how young and innocent she was, nor did they heed her screaming pleas for mercy. They violated her small, innocent body repeatedly with vicious malice that seemed more demonic than human, stripping her of the happiness she stored within her soul—right before they murdered her. They laughed, howling like wolves as her body shook violently from the force of the countless bullets that pierced her tiny and broken body.

  She was the most beautiful soul Dr. Daniel Bennett had ever known, and now that soul was gone, leaving behind the violated and mutilated shell it once occupied. Tears streamed down his face like rivers of pain and anger as he felt her blood pour over his arms and hands into the reddish dirt beneath him. He was so engulfed in his grief that he didn’t notice the multiple assault rifles now pointed at him, the men that held them yelling in a language he didn’t understand . . . nor did he care to. Everything that he cared for was taken right before his eyes to the sounds of automatic gunfire and at the edge of a machete. Eventually, he looked up at the men that threatened him with their weapons of genocide. The revelation of staring into their evil faces made the blade of his tragedy cut even deeper. They all resembled the child in his arms, possessing the same ethnic features and ultradark skin complexion that was common among most of the people that lived in the southern region of Sudan.

  How could people be driven to hate themselves this way?

  One of the men bent down, pushing the barrel of his smoking-hot rifle on the doctor’s cheek. Pain shot through his face as his flesh burned against the barrel of the rifle.

  “What are you doing here, and where are you from?” the man asked with a thick Sudanese accent. He possessed deep and dense scars all over his face, and in his eyes burned an evil inferno that appeared insatiable. He was clearly their leader, indicated by the way the sound of his voice silenced the other men.

  “Are you American?”

  The sound of his voice angered the doctor, as his accent was all too familiar to him, being the same accent the girl spoke when she was alive. Looking the man in the eyes and without thinking of the consequences, he hawked up phlegm from his throat and forcefully spat it in the man’s face.

  The leader’s eyes turned red with rage, right before he struck the doctor in the face with the back end of his rifle. The force of the blow slammed the doctor to the ground shattering his jawbone and throwing the little girl’s body out of his arms and onto the dirt like a rag doll. Before the pain could set in, he was being stomped and pounded with boots and rifle butts all over his body. Their strikes were inhumanly violent, and it seemed each blow meant to kill him. Every time he appeared alive, they would hit him again, even more violently. The beating seemed to last for an eternity until suddenly, everything stopped. The doctor was in so much pain he could barely breathe. He kept his eyes shut, lying in a fetal position, afraid to see what was coming next. He could feel the bright sun shining on his face, and when he decided to open his eyes, he was looking at the group of men pointing their guns at him, awaiting the order from their commander.

  “You spit in my face? I was going to let you go free, but now you will die for your insolence . . . ready, aim, fire . . .”

  Daniel’s sweaty body jumped up as he screamed at the top of his lungs. He was disoriented, and the darkness made it difficult for him to figure out he was safely in his own bedroom. Once he accepted his surroundings, he flopped back down on his pillow, exhaling forcefully. Looking over at the clock on his nightstand, the time 3:45 a.m. glared back at him. Trying to forget his nightmare would be an impossible task, so he slowly climbed out of his bed and headed for the bathroom.

  Looking in the mirror, he shook his head at his drenched reflection. Sweat poured from every pore on his caramel-colored body, and looking down at his boxers, he noticed they were soaked as if he’d peed himself. Twisting his muscular body to the left and right, he frowned at the multiple bullet entry and exit scars he had all over his torso. Leaning on the sink, he turned on the cold water and threw a handful on his face.

  I might as well get ready for work and head in early. My ass ain’t going back to sleep anytime soon.

  Still in front of the mirror, he pulled down his boxers, revealing his entire naked form. Staring at himself, he began to examine his body with pride. The longer he stared, the ugliness of his scars seemed to overtake the image . . . until all he could see was a scared and damaged 35-year-old man. His head once held high began to slowly hang downward until all he could see was his well-endowed manhood and size thirteens. He began to feel a frigid chill of regret run up his spine as he tried to fight back the tears of heartache and loss. He was the example of what a once strikingly handsome and successful doctor could become if he comes face-to-face
with death and regret. Having seen enough, he slowly walked into the shower and turned on the cold water to wake up an already frightened body . . .

  Chapter 2

  Empty Routine

  9:00 a.m., University of Illinois Hospital

  Chicago, Illinois

  “Doctor Bennett? Can you hear me? We have two gunshot victims in ICU, and Dr. Kohlman called in sick again.”

  Daniel sat behind his desk, staring off into nothing as his mind drowned in the memory of his past until an uninvited voice snapped him out of his daydream. He looked at the nurse and nodded his head, acknowledging he heard her. Satisfied that she’d gotten the message across, she turned to leave, but something she said grabbed his attention, so he called out to her before she could walk out of his office.

  “Did you say Dr. Kohlman called in sick again?”

  Turning and smacking her lips with an attitude, the nurse responded, “Yep, that’s three times in the last two weeks too. Something needs to be done, Dr. Bennett. This neighborhood needs two doctors on duty in ICU at all times. It’s like a war zone out there, and we are losing more patients than we are saving because we are short-staffed.”

  “I know, but we have to make do with what we have, and complaining about Dr. Kohlman won’t save another life. It definitely won’t give you job security. I’m okay with you voicing your concerns because I agree with you. But be careful with other people here, because Dr. Kohlman has ears everywhere. You remember what happened to the last nurse that complained about him?”

  The nurse nodded her head and grinned at the doctor before responding, “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Doctor.”

  “No need to apologize, I get it. I really do, but I also want you to keep working here because you are one of the few nurses that actually care. It’s not just a paycheck for you. Losing you would be devastating, so I’m just giving you some sound advice. Watch your back, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Doc, and thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome. Let ICU know I’m on my way now.”

  The chaos in the ICU would be overwhelming for most, but for Daniel, it was just a routine. After experiencing horrors most only watched on television, nothing surprised him. He still gave his best and tried to save as many patients as he could, but regardless of the outcome, he remained numb to it all. It mattered, but not enough to garner a real emotional response from him. To Daniel, death was just a needle’s tip away from everyone, and the sooner we realized it, the better off we would be. Watching so many young men and women from the West Side of Chicago come through the ICU due to gang violence was concerning, but what could he do? People are irresponsibly violent, and no matter how many bullet holes he patched up, organs he replaced, or lives he saved, people would always be the same: violent and hateful.

  Sometimes he would be so zoned out in his routine that he wouldn’t notice he’d worked a fourteen-hour shift without stopping to eat until one of the nurses would force him to eat something. Dr. Kohlman was the head doctor of the hospital, but was so engulfed in his hatred of minorities that he was either taking the day off or complaining about having to save another “leech.” Daniel could only imagine the names he called people of color around his dinner table when he was alone or with like-minded people. The fact that Daniel was African American made their professional relationship a difficult one to maintain, but Dr. Kohlman seemed to tolerate it as long as Daniel kept coming into work so that he didn’t have to.

  Eleven gunshot victims and countless other emergencies later, Daniel found himself in the bathroom, washing the day’s drama from his hands and looking at a reflection that he loathed to his core. Suddenly, the bathroom door flung open and in walked his college buddy and cancer research specialist, Dr. Timothy Avers. Timothy graduated at the top of his class and was considered one of the few people on the brink of finding a viable cure for cancer. With all the breakthroughs he made in treating cancer, he just couldn’t seem to find a cure for himself. He was the worst disease to women, and he left a graveyard of broken hearts in his wake. He was an expert surgeon at using his intellect and success to his advantage in getting what he wanted from women, and all he ever wanted was sex.

  He was an attractive, dark, mocha-skinned genius and a doctor, a potent combination that seemed to cause any pair of panties to fall around a pair of ankles, with Tim sliding in between them. On the surface, it would seem Tim wouldn’t be the type of guy Daniel would hang with, but Tim was a riot to be around, and he provided a much-needed escape from Daniel’s timid and frigid life. Usually, he would be smiling brightly because it was Friday and they would go out to a local bar or club to hang out . . . Well, Daniel hung out. Timothy would be on the prowl. However, he seemed angry as he stomped into the bathroom, and his demeanor momentarily alarmed Daniel to the point of almost caring . . . almost.

  Timothy kept pacing back and forth in the bathroom, clearly trying to get a reaction out of Daniel. Daniel was content with just letting him pace around, as long as he didn’t bother him with whatever was making him upset. After another minute, Daniel became annoyed and decided to give Tim the attention he craved.

  “What’s up, Tim?”

  “Nothing. I’m cool.”

  Nodding, Daniel continued to wash his hands. He knew that Tim wouldn’t end it there, but he wished he would.

  I’m really not in the mood for his whining.

  “Huh, what you say?” Timothy asked.

  “Nothing,” Daniel responded, quickly reaching for a paper towel to dry his hands and hoping to escape the bathroom before Tim talked him to death.

  Moving quickly toward the door, Daniel tried to make his escape, but Timothy wasn’t having it and stopped him before he could open the door.

  “Wait, Danny . . . Something’s up.”

  “But you just said nothing was up,” Daniel protested.

  “I know. I didn’t want to talk about it, but now . . .”

  “Now, you do,” Daniel responded, exhaling deeply.

  “Yeah, but if you’re busy, it’s cool.”

  Daniel knew his last statement was pure bullshit. It wasn’t cool if he didn’t listen to his story, which more than likely would include every minute detail of another disappointing night, with another strange woman. Rolling his eyes and shrugging his shoulders, he moved away from the door and walked back toward the sink. Leaning against it and folding his arms, he nodded toward Tim so that he could begin talking.

  “Okay, so I met this WG—”

  Interrupting him, Daniel asked, “WG?”

  “Yeah . . . WG . . . a white girl . . .” Tim responded, confused at Daniel’s unfamiliarity with the acronym. “Anyway, I met this white girl last week that I’ve been dying to fuck, and do you know what this bitch had the nerve to tell me this afternoon?”

  Daniel remained silent, staring blankly at Timothy. He was clearly not amused with the story thus far. His nonchalant attitude made Timothy feel stupid, but he really needed to get this off his chest, so he continued.

  “This bitch told me that she couldn’t sleep with me until I meet her parents. I’m like ‘Bitch, I’m not trying to meet your folks. I’m just trying to make you call me daddy.’ Just once, maybe twice, if she’s any good. Other than that, I’m not trying to be her man.”

  Most would question Tim’s story, finding it hard to believe the conversation went as he’s describing, but Daniel knew all too well that more than likely, it went exactly as he described. Tim had very little respect for women, and he didn’t hide it. He constantly called them bitches to their faces when they wouldn’t give him what he wanted.

  “I’m sure she didn’t like that now, did she?” Daniel asked sarcastically while looking up at the ceiling, appearing bored and unconcerned.

  “Hell naw! The bitch got beside herself and started calling me all kinds of niggers and bitch-ass niggers.”

  Daniel’s eyes widened as a very rare smile started to grow on his face.

  “Oh, now you’re amused? So, you like it
when a white chick calls me a nigger, huh?”

  “Hey, dude, you called her a bitch first. Seems like you were asking for it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be mad, but what did you expect?”

  “Not the ‘N’ word,” Timothy yelled back at Daniel.

  “I bet she wasn’t expecting to be called a bitch either when she invited you to meet her parents. But again, she did give you her number, so she was also asking for it too,” Daniel chuckled.

  “Oh, so, now you’re a comedian? To hell with you, Danny. She had no right using the N word. No right at all.”

  “Hey, I’m not saying she did but . . . anyway . . . So that’s why you’re upset?”

  “No, that’s just the beginning of it. So I hung up on her, and this bitch goes on my Facebook page and posts a bunch of crazy shit on there.”

  “How crazy?” Daniel asked, becoming more intrigued by the woman’s need to make Tim pay for disrespecting her.

  “Photos of lynchings and slaves being sold. Then, to top it off, she posted a comment saying she owned me through her inheritance from her father.”

  After hearing about the woman’s final assault on Timothy’s Facebook page, Daniel leaned backward, laughing hysterically. He could barely stand as his stomach muscles heaved and shook from the laughter that bellowed from his mouth. He hadn’t laughed this hard in over three years, and he reveled in it as long as his sad body would allow.

  Now, pissed and embarrassed by Daniel’s reaction, Timothy decided to leave, and Daniel reached out, stopping him from exiting the bathroom.

  “Wait, I’m sorry for laughing so hard,” he chuckled, trying to hold in another round of laughter.

  “So hard? You shouldn’t be laughing at all. That’s racist as fuck! She’s a racist, dude, plain and simple, and she exposed herself all over my page.”

  “She’s a racist, yet she gave you her number and wanted you to meet her parents? Come on, Tim, that doesn’t make any sense. If she were a racist, you wouldn’t have gotten past hello, let alone an invitation to meet the folks.”