REM // Van McCann

1. God, I Hope This Works

Warning: This story mentions suicide and sexual assault. Please don't read if it makes you uncomfortable.

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The air smelt of salt. Nauseating at first but later I got used to it. Seagulls circled the sky high above warning us of the impending storm. You could see it in the distance; dark and foreboding, carrying a lot of rain. With it came winds that whipped my hair until it was a tangled mess, the salt making it stick together in clumps.

No one in their right mind would come here but here she was, standing at the edge. The wind called to her, telling her to come closer and she listened. She stepped forward sending small rocks down the cliff. Thunderous waves crashed against the rocks, sending salt water into the air. During summer, the water is calm and bright blue. Now that it's winter, it is void of color, almost gray. She loves the water, always has. It's inviting but deadly. She jumped before I could stop her.

I woke up with a start, my eyes seeing nothing but black. My breathing was labored and my heart was pounding but once I realized I was in the safety of my own bed, I told myself to calm down saying it was just a dream. I ran my hand through my hair relieved that it wasn't tangled from the wind and coarse from the salt. The sound of seagulls and crashing waves were gone. All that remained was the guilt.

It was almost 4 AM. I have work in a few hours but I know I won't be able to sleep again. My mind was too busy trying to process the dream. My hand blindly searched for the switch on the lamp and once I found it, warm light bathed the room. It was quiet but I preferred it that way.

I pulled the drawer open in search of my dream journal. Once I found it, I flipped to an empty page and wrote the date at the top of the page. My mind recalled the details faster than my hand could write but I kept at it until all of it was on paper. Next, I grabbed colored pencils and closed my eyes, trying to picture the scene. I drew heavy lines and used dark colors for the choppy waters and added her figure on the edge of the cliff. Once I was satisfied with the sketch, I put the journal away and leant my head back against the headboard, closing my eyes once again.

An obnoxious sound filled the room and I slowly opened my eyes to find that I fell asleep sitting up. The lamp was still on from earlier so I turned the alarm and lamp off. I pulled the duvet off my body and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My neck hurt from the odd sleeping position so I rolled my neck to get the knots out.

I found my cigarettes on the table and took one out, placing it between my lips and grabbing a lighter. The sun lit up the room as I pushed the curtains aside to open the door to the balcony. I cupped my hands around the end of my cigarette and lit it, taking a drag and blowing smoke out. Once I was done smoking, I went to the bathroom to get ready.

My eyes went to the clock to gauge how much time I had left. Luckily I had time for a quick breakfast so I placed two slabs of Weetabix into a bowl, added some sugar, and poured milk on top. While I waited for it to soften, I poured milk and sugar into my tea, mixing it and taking a sip. In my rush, I managed to spill some tea on my shirt.

"Fuck," I muttered, dabbing at my shirt with a wet towel.

Luckily I was wearing a blue shirt so you couldn't see the stain even if there was one. I quickly ate the Weetabix and downed my tea, placing the dishes in the sink for when I get back. I put on a light jacket and bent down to get my boots.

The usual people were at the bus stop so I wished them a good morning and placed my ear buds in, looking for some music to put on. The bus arrived and I climbed on, scanning the bus for an empty seat. It only takes half an hour to get to work. Fifteen minutes if you drive but I refuse to pay for parking.