Wishing You Were Here

"I can't do this anymore!" I muttered to myself, grabbing fistfuls of my messy blond hair and pulling it painfully tight. I paced back and forth in my castle, feeling like I had worn a dent into the floor.

I glanced around the room, it was our old bedroom, before the... incident. There were clothes everywhere. Yours, mine. It didn't matter now. I'd killed you, and you're not coming back.

"You're not coming back!" I screamed into the empty air. "You're dead, now leave me alone!" I covered my face with my dirtied hands. "Just... just, please..."

My skin was ghostly pale and I felt so weak all the time. My clothes were in tatters, torn and dirtied, from lack of care and were probably beyond repair. I guess that's what happens when you haven't eaten for a few weeks.

I felt my legs give out and I crumbled to the floor in a heap. I could feel the tears rimming my eyes once again. I titled my head to the side, feeling dizzy and off balance even though I was lying on the floor. Squinting, I managed to focus my blood shot eyes on what was left of my goggles. I'd ripped them off and punched the wall with them when I heard the explosion, I think I still had some of them stuck in my knuckles that I'd neglected to remove.

My breathing hitched and my face started to feel wet. "Why..." I breathed, entering another dizzy spell. But this one felt different. I frowned. My chest was tightening, and I think my hands were shaking. Well, that's new... I thought vaguely, as the tightness in my chest increased and traveled into my throat, causing it to constrict.

I felt my eyes widen and I began to panic, desperately trying to breathe but to no avail. I was starting to hyperventilate now. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was me dying. That would be nice.

I forced myself to roll over, trying to support myself with my forearms and began coughing, unable to bring enough air into my lungs. Black spots and fuzz were starting to tug at my vision. I slumped fully onto the ground, with my face pressed against the cold wooden floor. In my delirium, I could have sworn I saw that door open. I wished beyond all hope that the terrified face of the man I once knew was really there... But he couldn't be. It just wasn't possible.

I weakly shook my head and tried to back away from the approaching delusion.

"No... no... please..." I muttered, still gasping for air and my eyes started slipping closed against my will. "You can't be here... Ryth-..."

The last thing I saw before my world went dark was the tanned man crouching in front of me, his mouth forming frantic words I was unable to hear.

I gave a soft groan, my eyes fluttering as I attempted to open them again. Once the first impossible task of the day was completed, I looked around at where I was. My senses seemed to wake up a bit more once I noticed I wasn't on the floor where I'd passed out.

Struggling to push myself in a sitting position, I noticed, as it turns out, I was still in the same room, but I was on the bed. And the room was... tidy. And upon looking down at myself, I found that I was in clean clothes.

I was really confused by now. "What?" I mumbled, sliding myself off the bed and standing unsteadily. I frowned, making my way towards the door. I reached for the handle, but before I had even gotten close enough to touch it, the door opened.

My eyes widened in fear. I stumbled backwards, tripping over my own feet, backing away as fast as I possibly could, tears forming in my eyes and threatening to spill over.

"No! No, no, no, no, no! You're not there! Stay away from me! Leave me alone!" I shouted, feeling tears trailing down my cheeks.

The figure put down what he had been carrying and tried walking towards me, but I only backed off further, my back hitting the wall. It noticed this and stopped, sighing exasperatedly, throwing his hands up. He held his chin, looking at me sympathetically every now and again as he looked about the room, trying to figure something out.