| An hour passed and my dad, nor I had moved from our spots, since we spoke. He was breathing calmly, and so was I. He didn't have to do anything tonight, and I didn't expect him to, until the morning.
"I'm not doing it," it came as a surprise, and when I turned around to look at him, he was staring back at me. His jaw was set, and his eyes were cold; his decision was final.
As mature as I had been before, it all fell apart. Anger was burning in the pit of my stomach, the longer I stared at him, "Why the fuck not?" I think I was yelling, but I didn't know for sure; I was too furious.
"Your mother will want to know why, if I tell her, she'll send every shrink in this hospital to your room. I doubt you really want that, Ashton." His words pierced because they were true. I pulled my face away from his, and stared at the ground. I couldn't look at him anymore.
"Go home, dad."
He stayed silent some more, and then got up. Without a word, he left my room, leaving me to my thoughts. No smart remark, no final word. He left, and that was that.
When he was gone, I could feel the loneliness take over. I could feel the anxiety rush though my body, nip at my stomach, and I almost wished that I hadn't told my dad to leave. I needed to get away from the world. I needed to forget I was alone. I found it was easier to ignore my feelings when I was in the bathroom. I pitched my shirt off, and ditched my pants somewhere in the corner, and slipped into the shower. Somewhere along the line, the scolding water didn't hurt so bad. * * * "Ashton, go to sleep," Martha the night nurse poked her head in my door, while I sat up against the wall in my bed, lights on.
"Yeah. Sure," I reached over and turned my light off. I normally never saw much of the night nurses; they didn't really bother much.
I sighed, and stared at my ceiling. Sleep would come sooner or later, but I hoped I would never sleep. At least not tonight. I just wanted to be left to myself. I didn't want to be back in my dreams, to hear her voice, to feel like her breath was on the back of my neck. Missing her was enough without the misplaced, incoherent dreams. I just wanted peace, but that wouldn't come. Not tonight. I knew that if I fell asleep her voice, perhaps even her face, this time would plague my dreams. Haunt me in my sleep. It was unsettling to think that even in my dreams I couldn't escape the loneliness in my reality. I laid my head down, watching the moon light beam down through my window. It made my floor look like silver, in a sea of grey.
Grey.
My whole life was grey. A whole life lacking of any boldness, ever. My fucking existence meant nothing. It was grey. Nobody cared about grey; it's an ugly color. It's an ugly adjective to describe anything, but I use it to describe my life.
There were no noises in the hospital; just the way I liked it when I wanted to sleep. But I fucking didn't want to sleep. I wanted to do the exact opposite. Too bad. Ladies and Gentleman: there is no God. * * * There was silence.
I was dreaming; I was in the black room again. It was different though, because I wasn't floating around in the air, I was just standing in a room. It wasn't a pit without walls, filled with endless darkness, it wasn't dark enough for me to only see just my figure. Instead it just looked like a room painted black; a fifty by fifty foot room painted in soot. Also unlike any other dream, there was a door. Knob and everything.
My dream even let me get to the door without dying off.
I opened it, and stepped through. When I got to the other side of the door, I was in my clean room again, and the door had disappeared, although that wasn't exactly a concern, when there was another person in my room with me. This person- whoever it was- was totally bald, and had their back facing me. I must have said something like, 'who are you', because the person turned around.
Even in my sleep, my body went cold.
Emma's skin looked so deathly pale, her face so drained of life, it sent a shudder down my spine. I reached out to touch her skin, but the instant my hand would have touched he face, she vanished. A figment of my imagination. A mirage. At first I didn't move my hand away, but soon I brought it to my side, and walked slowly to my bed. I felt cold. But why would I? I was in my clean room, the temperature was monitored. I sat down in my bed; my body on the mattress, noise erupted like the bed was giving way. It almost sounded like tree branches breaking. Another moment of looking at my bed concerned, I fell through.
Well, I fell until I landed on something sharp. It ripped through my back; I yelped in pain. Bending backward, I fell again, this time something caught my stomach, but scrapped my arm clean open in the process.
I was in a tree. I rolled around until I could see how far I needed to jump to get off. In one swing I was on the ground. The tree stayed where it was, and the moon above me shed a bright light all around. I was on a hill top, and if I looked hard enough, I could see at the stars. But I had no time to look at them. I was bleeding. Open wounds! Bacteria from the bark, the dirt that brushed up against my arm would surely get into my cuts. I cursed, I screamed, I yelped. I was going to die, just like every other dream. There would be no mercy for me now.
"Don't be afraid."
Fuck me. It was her voice again. As if this dream wasn't bad enough. I groaned and looked around, I tried to look up at the sky, but the light hurt my eyes. I was limited the things I could see in front of me; nothing that was important at all. "Don't be afraid, Ashton. You can escape," her voice urged on.
I groaned once more, and yelled at the the air, "What the fuck do you mean!? I'm gonna die! If not by a virus, then by bleeding to death!"
"Don't be afraid. You can escape."
"You're making no sense you fucking voice!" I snarled. I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks, as the blood spilled out from my cuts, and slithered down my skin.
"You can escape this, Ahston. You can escape, and you can be free. You don't have to be afraid."
Again, this bitch wasn't making any sense. I was dying!
"I'm going to die here! What the hell are you saying!?"
"You will not die here. You will escape. You will be free, if you release your fears. You will not die here." "You cannot die here." Then I woke up.
* * * I sighed. It was her voice again, and it hurt to hear. I turned to my clock; it was four in the morning. Only three hours until I would have to wake up. It didn't seem like much, but if you were to actually wait it out, it was hell. I had done it before, when I was afraid of the dark- that was only when I was little. Now I embraced it, when I went to bed; I liked it. Dark, and quiet. It made things easier to fall asleep. It was already dark, like it would be, behind your eye lids. Quiet, like it would be when you sleep. Unless you snore. I sighed and stayed in bed, turning on my side to face my desk. What was I going to do for another three hours? I couldn't just fall back asleep; that was impossible to do now. I rolled back around in my bed, looking up at my ceiling.
"What. A boring. Ceiling."
My voice sounded weird, as I spoke out loud. It was funny hearing it, after hearing absolute silence. I decided to keep my thoughts inside my head, so that my voice wouldn't muck up the quiet. It was late enough that it was still fairly dark, and early enough for the birds outside to be making noise; it was faint, but if you concentrated real hard, you could make out a squawk or two. I really hated when I could hear them. It was annoying.
Insistent chirping; that's all I ever heard. I sighed, and thought to myself. What could I do? I couldn't sleep, I couldn't get up out of bed. I was just stuck sitting in bed like I was comatose. I decided that I would try and go to sleep, though I knew it was impossible. I turned again, on my right side, and slipping my hand under my pillow, and curled up some.
This would not be easy. A knock came at my door, and then someone tried their hand at the doorknob. So much for sleeping. I turned a bit to look at the door. The knob was still being jostled, but not turned. It was odd. None of the night nurses would do this. They left the patients alone, when they slept, and they certainly knew how to open a door. Who would be coming in now?
I sat up; maybe it was one of my parents. The door opened finally, and a man in a wheelchair surveyed the space around him. It was still too dark to make out much, but he realized that this room was very unfamiliar.
"Oh, sorry laddy," he was whispering, thinking I was still asleep, I guess, "Wrong room," he took the door knob back in his hand, ready to leave.
"It's okay," I heard myself say out loud, "I'm up anyway."
The man in the wheelchair smiled, I could tell, because the lights from the hallway lit his face. He was an elderly man; old and torn.
He nodded and chuckled, "Why would you be up this early?"
I shrugged, even through he couldn't see, "You have no idea."
  |
