#cw1101

Tears are trickling slowly down my cheek, the old pain of the memory ripped up and the scar is bleeding again. Darkness envelopes me as he takes the chair with him and turns off the light, before shutting the door behind him. He leaves me there for dead, alone, broken. All that’s left for me is the darkness and knowing that this will be the end of me.

 I can feel the clear fluid working to fog my mind again, and I know I won’t be able to fight it off, after years of trying to fight it. Instead, I surrender my consciousness to another dream.

 I’m back by the lake, but the forest around me has changed. Instead of a thick foliage of yellow and orange leaves, all the trees are bare. The air around me is frosty and there’s a white mist creeping towards me over the black lake. Nothing is the same anymore. Everything around me is either dead or dying.

 Dark clouds move slowly across the sky, even though there is no wind to move them. Everything is still, like I’m placed inside a picture. Nothing but the clouds are moving, no sound, nothing at all. Even though the sun isn’t visible through the thick layer of clouds, I somehow know it’s dusk. The woods are getting darker by the minute and shadows bleed into each other, changing the scenery around me.

 An empty feeling fills my body, spreading through every limb, every cell until all I can feel is a stinging numbness. I slip down to the forest floor, leaning against the trunk of the old oak tree as shadows wrap around me. All around me is black, the purest darkness I’ve ever seen. Even darker than the room I’m being held in, and I can feel myself drifting away. Further away from the kind of reality my dreams offer, further away from my lucid thoughts, until I’m floating in thin air, in nothingness. It’s bliss.

*Flashback*

She is walking down the street. Her schoolbag over her shoulders, and with a light jump in her steps, she skips happily home from school. Along the pathway, it’s growing wildflowers and she stops every once in a while to pick the prettiest ones to bring back home to show to her mum. The sun is shining brightly from a cloudless, brilliant blue sky, and dogs are barking at the girl as she passes the front yards, begging for attention.

 Just as she’s about to reach out and kick at a rock, a car slows down behind her, not stopping completely, but she doesn’t seem to notice it; she is too absorbed in the flowers in the ditch. Suddenly a strong arm wraps around her tiny waist, pinning her arms down. There’s a black tattoo on his arm, a compass pointing east. A hand covers her mouth as she opens it to scream, and there’s just a muffled sound that comes out, not nearly loud enough to bring any attention to what’s happening. The wildflowers she picked for her mum drops limply to the pavement as the van drives away, leaving the street quiet once again.

-> Chapter 6

A creaking sound makes me snap my eyes open and sit up against the concrete wall, cowering in the corner, knowing what’s about to happen. A stream of light peeks through the crack of the door, illuminating a small patch of the floor. He comes in, hauling something that could be a metal chair behind him in one hand.

“I want to go home,” I say weakly, my voice rough from not being used for a while, but I already know the answer. I say the same thing every time he comes to visit me, and every time I get the same answer.

“And I want to be president, but I can’t see that happening anytime soon. You should accept your fate, love.” He sounds weary and I can hear him rustle around the room. It makes me nervous; I know he’s going to prick my arm again, but I don’t want my head to be cloudy anymore. Dread begins to form in the pit of my stomach and my voice shakes slightly.

“Why do you keep me here?” Another thing I already know the answer to. It’s for your own good.

“It’s for your own good,” he repeats as every other time I’ve asked, and I can hear impatience seeping into his voice. He knows I already know the answer. I don’t know why I keep asking the same questions, but maybe I’m hoping for a different answer, more information, something else than what I get. Anything else than what I get.

The metal clangs against the concrete floor as he places the chair by my bed and walks back to the door. I can see him stretching his arm around the corner, and there is a moment of complete darkness, complete stillness, and then the room is filled with a blinding light once again. I whimper and hide my face in the nook of my elbows, to shield my eyes from the harsh, fluorescent light.

“So,” he starts and the sound of metal scraping against the floor indicates that he has sat down on the chair. “You probably know why I’m here today.” Is it day? It could be the middle of the night for all I know. I nod into my arm, the light still too bright for me to lift my head.

“Look at me,” he orders and I reluctantly lift my head from the crook of my elbow, my eyes still closed against the light. “Look at me!” His tone is more aggressive this time, and I open my eyes. It takes me a moment to adjust, but I can make out his dark silhouette in the white light. “Thank you,” he says with a hint of a satisfied smile in his voice. “Now, it’s time for your daily dose.” I shake my head, slowly at first and then more violently. I don’t want to do this again.

“Please, no,” I whisper and look up at him, fear crashing over me in tsunami waves. He doesn’t answer, just pulls out the syringe and bottle of clear liquid. The syringe is filled halfway and he walks towards me, the needle looming over me. As he draws nearer, he blocks out the light from the ceiling lamp, putting me in a small shadow.

“Give me your arm,” he says and stretches his hand towards me. I continue to shake my head and turn away from him as if that would make him give up and go away. It doesn’t and he grabs my shoulder, turning me to face him before taking my arm to insert the needle.

“No!” I yell and thrash in his hard grip. “No, stop! Stop!” I push and kick against him to get him away from me even though I know it’s futile. The sleeve of his shirt rises in the struggle, and my eyes lock on a spot of black ink marking his arm. I know that spot of ink. I’ve seen it only once in my life, this being the second time. My body freezes and stills in his grip, my eyes locked on the tattoo.

 The prick of the needle is barely felt as my body falls limp. My eyes roll back into my head as the liquid takes effect, streaming through my veins. All I can see is the tattoo before everything around me fades away.

I can see the scene play out in my mind’s eye, an actual memory, not a dream this time, pushed far back into my subconscious, begging to be forgotten. Now it’s pulled out, and I can’t look away. It is as if I’m standing on the sidelines, unable to intervene or warn the little girl. Unable to tell her to forget about the flowers and just run home. All I can do it watch.

-> Chapter 5

The sky above me is bright blue, white cotton clouds floating across like small sheep. There’s a refreshing breeze rustling through the trees, blowing some of the leaves down to the forest floor. Yellow, orange and red shades cover the browns and greys of the earth. The forest is quiet, except for my feet thudding softly against the dirt and the wind blowing through the foliage above me. It’s peaceful, energizing.

 I can see a lake through the thinning line of trees, the water black and still. Not a ripple to disturb the mirror-like surface. But it’s not like any mirror I’ve seen. It doesn’t reflect the bright blue sky or the white clouds floating above it. It’s just black, like pure darkness rests beneath the surface.

 There’s a cool gust of wind whipping through the forest, and a flock of birds take off from a nearby tree. My hair is blowing into my face and I reach my hand up to move it behind my ear. The surface of the lake is quiet, even in the wind. Still and black, like nothing can disturb it. An old oak tree groans dangerously to my right in the strong wind, threatening to topple over. I get a foreboding feeling in my stomach, like something bad is going to happen. But nothing bad ever happens in my daydreams; my dreams are mine and I control it. Nothing bad can happen here…

-> Chapter 4

The room is dark, so opening my eyes doesn’t make much difference. There’s a salty smell in the room, but I’m not sure if it’s just lingering from my dream or if the scent is real. I’ve been in here for almost as long as I can remember, only a few glimpses of memory to cling to. They’re keeping me sane.

 There’s a door in front of me. I can’t see it, but I know it’s there. It’s the only thing in the room, except for the bed I have to sleep in. It’s an uncomfortable bed, but it’s better than the floor. The door opens consistently three times a day, although I can’t tell if it’s the same time every day, due to the lack of real daylight. Sometimes a plate of something is pushed through the crack, sometimes nothing, and he usually comes once a day. When he comes, that always means trouble. He always brings a syringe and a small bottle of clear liquid with him, but it’s not water. He pricks my arm with the needle and pushes the fluid into my body, and it makes my mind go fuzzy and cloudy around the edges. It makes me feel funny.

 I close my eyes again, letting myself slip into another dream. Dreaming has become something of a habit the last few years. I never had much of an imagination as a child, but since I was brought here my dreams have become more vivid, more detailed, more alive.

-> Chapter 3

A salty wind is whirling around me, whistling through the grass and making my hair whip out behind me. The sounds of the ocean fill my ears, the shrieks of the seagulls as they dive without mercy into the white waves, hunting for fish. The gusts of wind are too strong and the birds struggle to keep themselves straight in the air. I can taste the sea salt on my lips, from the waves crashing against the beach.

 As the horizon stretches out in front of me, the greys merge together and it becomes almost impossible to distinguish where the ocean stops and where the sky begins. Dark clouds stop the evening sun from peeking through, and the air is feeling heavy against my skin. I can hear rumbling of thunder in the far distance, faint flashes of lightning occasionally making the clouds look like they’re glowing white.

 Sand finds its way between my toes and my feet are wet from the waves licking at my skin, but I don’t mind it. I close my eyes to the strong wind blowing in my face. After a while the wind dissipates, the seagulls and ocean fade away, until all that is left is a crushing silence. The dream is playing in my mind like a movie.

 I can’t escape my dreams, I learned that a long time ago, so I’ve embraced the feeling of being brought far away, because if I open my eyes, I have to face reality.