A Soul Ensnared

Three

It was with a valiant, groggy effort that Sonya peeled back her eyelids to peer at the clock on the nightstand. The numbers worked their way into her consciousness, slowly taking form. It was a sea of red in the pitch black of the room. She blinked to clear her vision, peering again at the small alarm clock.

The numbers read eleven. Although she felt like she'd woken up from a coma, she'd only been asleep for a few hours. Letting out a yawn, she allowed the haze to clear from her sleep-drugged mind, and snuggled closer to Brent, crooking her leg over his. She was nestled against his shoulder, her hair spilling across his pillow. Their limbs were entangled amongst the covers, a fact that left her feeling utterly content. She could remain in that position forever.

If only Brent would get over himself. Should he decide that she was worth more than his objections to marriage, this could be the way she awoke every morning. She could be his, he could be hers, and they could live the happy life in which she dreamed. The one which she wanted.

The one Sonya felt she deserved.

The small thought made her smile. Her limbs stretched out. She felt the full length of his slumbering form against her. It was a moment she relished, knowing that, at least for tonight, she could pretend he belonged to her without limitation. She could live in this dreamscape forever, content with her idealisms of the man beside her. His reality could intrude in the morning; it had no place in the tantalizing fantasy of darkness.

With a smile, she closed her eyes. Snuggling in a little closer, she whispered, "I love you. One day you'll realize what we have. I can wait." She laid in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling, dreaming about their future. Her mind drifted to images of shiny rings and white dresses. Of ceremonies and rice drifting down like rain. Of family and friends, laughing with unmitigated glee. A hand drifted down to the flatness of her stomach, and the vision changed. She imagined what it would feel like to know that life was growing within her, wondering about the time when she would be the mother she imagined herself to be. The image progressed, and she saw Brent in the backyard, chasing their children around, growling and playing with them as she cooked dinner in the kitchen.

Thirty minutes passed in a hazy daydream before her brain started nagging for reality to intrude. She hadn't remembered to set the alarm for the morning, she realized with a shock, and her throat was burning with dryness, aching for water.

Sighing over lost dreams, she detached herself from the handsome man sleeping next to her, and rolled toward the edge of the bed. Once she swung her legs over the side, she lost the will to continue moving, letting her legs dangle for a few minutes. It was with weary eyes that she watched the clock tick on. A stretch, another yawn, a tired swipe through her hair, and Sonya remembered one of her two tasks. She reached toward the small alarm clock, red numbers blazing, and set it for five. That would give her enough time to shower, get dressed, and walk into the Club no later than seven-thirty. Timing was everything, especially when her boss expected four new member applications by tomorrow.

The second task on her agenda seemed more difficult to begin once the first had been accomplished. As she peered toward the unforgiving blackness, in the direction of the kitchen, she gave herself a mental kick for black-out curtains and the absence of night lighting. 

Ugh, she thought, picturing all the toe-stubbing obstacles hidden in the pitch black of the room. This should be an interesting, painful excursion. Where did I leave my phone?

Feeling along the nightstand for her cell phone, she tried to remember what all had been dropped in their haste toward the bed. There was a vague memory that included a few articles of clothing. She couldn't remember what else would block her path to the kitchen, and the pain in her throat decided it didn't matter.