Maria

The Last Days

It's supposed to be impossible to dream of faces you've never seen before. At least, that's what Nigel tells me. But so far in my life, I can only remember three. And yet, I keep seeing his face every time I close my eyes. I don't know him, I've never met him, and yet I dream of him. His long face and kind gaze and paper-thin grin. He smiles at me and I know him. I used to think that maybe he was one of the faces of those things, but they aren't people anymore. I couldn't count the times I've woken up with his name on the tip of my tongue and all I want to do is say it. I know his face, but I don't know him.

I'm floating above myself, but I'm not home. I don't know where I am. But I've been here before. I've dreamt of it. The walls are intricately detailed in gold, with rounded wooden arches leading up to a ceiling covered in robed men. I'm standing there in a long cream gown covered in embroidered roses, my head covered in a beaded headpiece and a translucent veil. The man is standing in front of me, holding my hands. I'm talking, but I can't hear anything, I never hear anything. I'm just there, watching, over and over, never knowing what any of it means.

I hear the door open and I snap awake. 

The wind is howling outside, threatening to break the cracked glass at last. It's early, still dark out. I sit up in my bed, an old four-post bed that desperately needs some TLC. I look at the familiar water stain on the ceiling, bits of crown moulding chipping off. 

The door to my room is still closed, the way it always is when I have that dream. 

I sigh and roll off the bed. I used to think I might remember what happened to me, that maybe my dreams would be the key to unlocking something, but nothing. It's been five years, and nothing.

It was snowing the day Jack found me. At least, that's what he says. I could only ever remember his face in the morning light. He was my first memory. Five years and he's the most I can remember. As I watch the wind rustle through the last of the yellow and copper leaves I try to think beyond Jack's face, I try to remember the snow at the very least. Five years and I still don't know my name, or anything else about who I was before the snow. The only life I've ever known has been, run, hunt, kill.

I go to my wardrobe and pull out a long black-sleeved shirt and black pants, easier to clean the blood. The boys won't be up for a little bit, so I leave my room barefoot, easier to sneak. I creep down the second floor hallway making sure to stay close to the wall as it makes the least amount of noise. As I do, I hear the light snoring coming from Jack's room, bits of peeling floral wallpaper brushing against my shoulder. I get to the stairs and hold onto the ornate oak rail as it goes down and turns, revealing the decrepit front entryway. Knowing that I'm the only one on the main floor so I walk with less care. I go past the living room, then the herbal room, until I reach the massive wooden doors covered in peeling white paint that lead to the greenhouse.

A large glass structure that is at least a couple of decades old, though it's young for the house, it houses all of our own personal forest. The greenhouse is full to the brim with dozens of different plants, mostly for Nigel who calls them all his children, but the small sitting area in the centre has a couple of old mouldy pieces of furniture from the house. The rest of it is green, lush, and eternally warm, the glass ceilings letting in the warmth of the morning sun. Most things in the house are a bit ramshackle or mouldy or warped.

I grab one of the iron garden chairs and sit right up against the edge of the glass. I see my reflection, my pale skin barely showing up. I've always thought I looked sad, all my features making me look on the verge of tears. I smile, but it seems a bit strange. Looking past my reflection I see the trees at the end of the yard rustling around in the wind, branches nearly bare, only a few resilient leaves holding on. At a certain point, I must have lost time, because I suddenly start to hear familiar sounds coming from inside the house,  eventually I hear footsteps right behind me.