Sickly Sweet Dreams (2)

I'm so stupid. How can I be SUCH a coward? It's not that hard to just say "Happy Holidays, Trevor." But of course, all I can manage is an over-exaggerated "HELLO" and lots of blushing. I'm probably better off liking him from a distance anyways. Getting too close to boys always ends in me cutting. Oh don't even start with the lecture, I give it to myself enough.

Erin giggles next to me. I look over, and she's staring at the front of the classroom. Right, there's a movie playing. It's a cute movie I guess. But I'm more interested in the person in my direct line of vision. Wow I've got it bad.

I lay my head down on the desk I'm sitting at. Might as well get comfortable. I take a bunch of deep breathes until I get dizzy. The world sways and twists. It's so peaceful. So beautiful... so dark.....

I sit upright with a jolt. The movie has stopped. Why?

"I'm so sorry guys, there's some technical difficulties, hehe. We're working on it, just chat amongst yourselves for now, haha." Ms. Carlton is always so smiley, and beautiful. I'm surprised she's not married.

Outside the sky was bright and pierced through the blinds. Damn it was sunny out. When did that happen? The room was filled with talking and laughter. But when I tried to pick out words, they didn't make any sense. It just sounded like a mess of people saying "bla bla bla bla" in different tones.

Trevor stood up and stretched. Oh God, I need to stop staring at him before he notices. Crap. Too late. A dazzling smile spread across his face. So beautiful. Shit. Now he's walking over. I could feel my face on fire, blushing is a weakness of mine.

Arms wrapped around my waist. Trevor was behind me. Was he? But he was just walking toward me... wasn't he? His scent filled my senses. The one big thing I noticed about guys was how they smell. Not like body odor smell. But just their natural smell. It's something I get used to and start to miss when they're gone. Because of course, they always leave.

Holy crap Trevor smells amazing. Don't forget how to breathe. That's when I noticed I'm not breathing. But I wasn't holding my breathe either. That's strange...

His voice in my ear. Gorgeous, he said. He's so close, almost impossibly close. Then he was in front of me. But no one moved... how did that happen?

Lips on mine. Eyes closed. It felt so real. I tried to keep my eyes closed because I didn't want to see what would happen next. But the body doesn't always obey the mind. Stupid body.

Eyes wide open. Different boy in front of me. Sly smile, filled with anger and satisfactory. You can only hide for so long, Willow. Those were the words his hideous lips formed. The same words he spoke every time.

A forceful shove brought me back. Reminder to self: thank whoever it was that is waking me up.

"WILLOW. WAKE UP. UGH. YOU MISSED THE WHOLE MOVIE." Silly Erin, I wasn't watching the movie in the first place.

I blinked away spots from the heavy sleep. Everyone is staring at me. What are they looking at? Am I that ugly?

Samantha walked past me and grabbed my arm, pulling me outside the classroom. Come on people, close your mouths. Teens sleep in class all the time.

"Willow... what were you dreaming about?" Sam's tone was more like a warning than a question.

"Who said I was dreaming?" Playing stupid is always the safer way out.

"You were screaming."

Oops. "Oh... did I interrupt the movie?"
"That's not the point. Must've been an awful nightmare to make you scream like that. You wanna talk?"

Nope. Never. Then people know. "Um, actually maybe later. I should probably go back in before people think I'm a total freak."

I jogged back into class before there was time for anymore questions.

The only question I had was, when did the dream start, and how much was real?

Sickly Sweet Dreams (1)

It was three in the morning, and raining. Thunder and lightning kind of rain. I loved this weather. Even in the dark. I rolled out of bed, but after already starting my roll, I realized this bed was higher, and I probably shouldn't roll off like this. But it was too late. Not like I cared anyway. I landed on the floor with a solid *thump*. I hope that wasn't enough to wake anyone up...

I grabbed my rain-boots, which I have placed just under my bed for this moment. Carefully tip-toeing down the hall, I checked my mom's room. Just to make sure everyone was sleeping soundly. Indeed they were. I continued my journey down the stairs to the front door. I had left it unlocked so I wouldn't have to make so much noise, even the slightest sound could shake the dogs from their light sleep. I gently pulled on the cold doorknob. There was a little resistance, as if warning me to not go. But I had to. I walked outside, and the cold and rhythmic beating of rain welcomed me. I breathed in deeply the smell of damp forest. It reminded me of home. I'm not sure where home is, but I’m sure it would smell identical to this.

I stepped out onto the cool and damp porch. Thunder cracked overhead. I closed the door behind me and walked into the secret night. I found myself with a silly smile on my face. I didn't know where I was going to go. Or when I planned on coming back home. But I could never be this happy in that house. My bags were packed. My writings held close. All I wanted was to start over, in a new home. With new friends. No more medicine, no more vitamins. No more worries. The thought of that line made my head start playing.

I convinced myself that this was just the beginning of something bigger and better than what I had before. But doubt was slipping in. Then I wondered... what if I never got to say goodbye to the one person that meant the world to me? What if they thought I had died and would just give up looking for me? What if no one cared enough to look...?

Tears melted into the rain. I turned into a sobbing shivering mess. I thought of how no one would ever care enough to see me. Even if I was right in front of them. All they do is look, never seeing. Why can't they see the pain that I hold too close to me?
Sleep pressured me to fall to the ground, now soaked with fresh rain. It seeped through my clothes, through my skin, deep inside my bones. I slowly lifted my head to see the faint outline of a figure in the woods. I took off at a sprint towards it. By the time I realized it was a figment of my imagination, I was lost. Somewhere in the woods, alone. So alone. But I knew all I had to do was walk in one direction to find civilization. I chose not to move though. I chose to lie in the rain, soaking wet, shaking with fear. It was my own decision to do this. Before another thought could enter my mind, sleep hit me like a sledge hammer.
I woke to hands holding my head. Gently tugging on my hair. Warm hands. Safe... For a while I let my head rest in their lap. Not bothering to look to see who it was. Honestly, I didn't care. I felt safe, and loved. Loved that whoever this person was didn't walk by and leave me here to rot. Then there was a soft voice. A familiar voice... whispering something about the color of the leaves this season...
I knew that voice. I sat up with a jolt. He pulled me back into his arms. Of all the people in this world to find a dying girl in the woods, why couldn't it be a stranger?

I screamed and cried. Not this boy. Please, no. Words danced just out of reach, words with a voice. He was talking to me, but I'd rather block it out. This is my world, in my head, so why can't I change this?

Then my name.

"Willow."

"Willow."

"Wake up."

Too many voices. Rough sheets. Humming lights. Sterile scent. Papers flipping. Beeping. Consciousness... was pulling me back...

"Stop fighting it, Willow. It's time to wake up."

Burns.

If I died, I would only be finishing off the job he started. He should've just ended it. Instead of leaving me here. Leaving me to do this myself. Leaving me to burn.

I've always loved to play with fire. I would get burns a lot, but I never...EVER flinched. Bad things happened when he saw me flinch. So I played with fire for him. To make him “happy.” Whatever. My efforts were never good enough. Because in all honesty, I was never good enough for him. It was always me who was hit. The worst part wasn't the rape, or the bruises that never had enough time to heal, but the hugs. Hugs are supposed to be sweet, caring gestures. From a parent to a child, or one best friend to another. But not these. There were the hugs that replaced words: “you'll come back.” Not a question. Not an observation. A demand.

Once he said “it's what good girlfriends do. And you have to be a good girlfriend.” For some reason that hit a nerve. All I've ever been to him was good. I followed by his rules, took the blows, didn't tell anybody. So I spit in his face and delivered a sharp “fuck you.” That was one of the biggest mistakes I've made. I got scars from that night, accompanied by bruises so bad I had to wear sunglasses for weeks.
I don't believe in miracles. But I believe that things happen for a reason. And sometimes, nice things just happen. For example, when he left. No one knew where he went. No one asked either. In fact, no one cared. I was free. At least that's what I thought. I tried to be a normal girl. But it didn't work. I could feel him watching me...always.

I admit that I started the fire on purpose. It was so easy. I set up a ring of rocks on my large front yard. So it couldn't spread. For once, I would be the focus. I made a line of lighter fluid around the edge of the ring of rocks. Then I lit it with a simple match. Very calmly, I walked to the center. My face was like stone as I stared at the road. I knew what would happen. And I didn't care. I watched his car come into my driveway. I watched him step out, angry. And I laughed. It was a sick, disturbing noise that fell from my lips.

“Care to join me, Chris?” I cried over the cackle of the growing blaze.

I didn't hear his response. But I saw his lips move. Then a curious thing happened, he cried tears of rage.

Now I could feel the fire's warmth and comfort relaxing my muscles. My pulse suddenly quickened. Soon. I've been wanting this for so long. Even after he left, it only made me realize that he stained this body, all over. I could never be free from that.

I loved watching him kneel on the grass in pain. Hopelessness. Helplessness. I was leaving, and all he could do was sit there and watch me burn to death.
Burning alive is indescribably beautiful. You can feel your skin peeling away. Your body falling to ash. As I felt death tugging on me, like a little girl tugs on her mother's sleeve, I screamed my final words.
“I loved you.”

Dear Agony,

I stared into the mirror. I looked away and rubbed my eyes. And looked back. I looked away and cried. And looked back. But the girl that I thought I had lost...was back. Her gaze froze me to the core of my bones. What had brought her back, one might wonder. Maybe it was the slow trickle of blood streaming down my leg. The agonizing pain, of which I now knew would only worsen throughout the years. Decades. My lifetime.
Maybe it was the sudden slap of reality. That my brother was going off to the marines, and I had no idea when I would see him again. But I could so clearly remember last time I saw him. I remember a man walking over to hug me. Dressed in black, as was the rest of the crowd. He told me it was okay to cry. And only after he had walked away, did I realize that that man was my brother.
Maybe it was the pain of the absence of my father. Who has now been but a small speck of my life for four months now. Who keeps calling every couple of weeks to drone on about how much he misses me. I know how this works. Guilt me into another visit. Just so he can sleep and leave me to my agony.
Maybe it's that I have no one but a once a week therapist to talk to. And besides her, my life stays bottled up deep inside me. And it's times like these, where the bottle bursts.
Times like these where the tight grip of the screaming music, which would be so peaceful any other day, had no aide to my collapsing soul. All I could do was shiver in the blow of an old window fan. If I were to turn it down, or worse, off completely, the fire that has been ignited from deep inside my gut, would flare up again. And I was in no mood to be bothered with a forest fire inside my stomach.
From another world, somewhere far away, just out of reach, I could smell burning wood. A soft smell drifting from the porch to my window. Caught in the blades of a fan, and thrust towards me. I had the urge to limp in it's direction. With a bag of marshmallows griped tight in my sweaty palms. Like old times. I pictured a little girl trotting through the house, bouncing with joy. I pictured my former self.
Then I was swiftly brought back to my world. Where I confined to the floor, writhing in pain. Wishing there was a magical button I could press to end this anguish swiftly, with ease, cleanly.
But like a friend, that was not so little as a friend in my mind, told me, wishes never come true.

Curse.

I looked at the sleek blade in my hand. Had I really dropped so low to this? To this criminal act? I wish I could turn back the clock. Back all the way. But it doesn't work like that. Never has, never will. So this is how I cope? Isn't there some other way? I sat there, in the middle of my carpet, staring at my hands. Staring at the sliver of silver. Begging. Laughing. At my agony. I started to put it down. Ever so gently, I wouldn't want to...wait...I have no idea why I'm being careful. But I might as well. Then, at the worse possible time, my arm jerked. Far away from my body. Sometimes I wondered how it was possible for such a move to be achieved in so little time. I screamed out, part in fear, and part is sheer vain. I plunged the sliver of blade into the arm that jerked. Maybe if I cut it up enough it'll all stop. Or something like that. I gathered up the courage to look down at my arm. I had decided to do this today. Without reason, I figured this would be easier than reality. And I was right. As I watched the blood dripping onto my other hand, just below, I couldn't help but smile. This was a whole new kind of pain. The pain that you can't get by falling off you bike, or cutting your finger from chopping peppers. No. this is such an intensely beautiful pain. I didn't dare put my weapon on my spotless carpet. I gathered myself and hurried to the bathroom. All the time staring at my arm. It didn't look like mine anymore. Unattached to this body. You lucky arm... I dropped the demon I was carrying in the sink and let the water flow over it. I never realized how much of a gorgeous color blood is. Mixed with water, spinning down a drain, like a piece of art. I put my arm in the water and let it soothe away the guilt. The pain, no I wanted that for myself. But the guilt, that I could happily live without. After the blood was gone, you could barely tell that the skin was broken. I grabbed a bandage out of the overhead cabinet. As I did so I caught a glimpse of my grinning face and couldn't help but grimace. How could I be so sick that this was the one thing that gave me joy? There was reality hitting me again. I grimaced. I slapped the bandage on with out a wrinkle in my stone face. I stood looking in the mirror until my arm jerked. I sighed and went back into my room. My little demon had done its job. Now it is my turn to let out the grief, guilt, pain. I sat down on my floor, in the same spot as before. I hummed a couple of lines to "Mama", then screamed. Cried. All of the above. Then everything was out. Now I just wait, for another low to come. Another phase of the curse.