Haunted

The Dark

Everything hurts.

Nothing hurts.

My hands are numb but my arms are cold.

I take a breath through lungs made of glass.

There's darkness, all around, crushing down from all sides. Palpable, tangible darkness. I'm suspended in it, surrounded by it, suffocating in the dark and the silence. And then the memories start to trickle through, dim at first, and then bright and loud, like a train screaming through the empty night.

Through the darkness, I see glimpses of Mom's face crumpling while I yell at her. My voice sounds distorted and strange. I grab my backpack and slam the door behind me.

The darkness clears again, showing Dad's face sagging when he realizes I'm not going to accept his hug. His arms drop to his sides like dead weights, his mouth turns downward. He picks up his suitcase to leave, and I murmur I hope you die under my breath.

I can see Cassie through the swathes of ink. Her child's hands are clutching her nose while the red blood seeps out from between her fingers and swims down her neck. I look down at my first, at the split knuckles, and feel nothing but sadness.

And then there I am at the dance again, watching Sabrina's mouth turn up into a smile, red lips like a flame against her alabaster skin. I want to scream, to lash out and claw at her, and then the darkness seeps in again.

I'm trying to fight the dark. I'm fighting against the memories, against the omnipresent nothingness that bears down all around me. But most of all, I'm fighting against myself. I'm fighting against the regret and the heartache, and of all the things that it's too late to go back and change.

And then light starts to bleed through the starless night, smudged and unsure of itself. It grows in intensity, flashes of blue and red crying out against the shadows.

I can make out an ambulance, shrill sirens blaring over and over. A large crowd has gathered around something lying on the ground, ripples of whispers springing up all around. As I get closer, I realize it's me, lying broken and crumped against the wet, shining road.

A paramedic has his fingers pressed against my neck, which is bent at an unnatural angle. My dress, my elegant dress, is now torn and bloodied. I feel a wave of nausea rush over me, like a hard punch to the gut. Am I really dead? How can I be dead when I'm right here? I can't be dead. I just can't.

I force myself to look away as the grim-faced paramedic lifts my limp, unresponsive body onto a stretcher, pushing me towards the ambulance. The shocked faces of the crowd stare back at me; some have pale hands pressed against open mouths, others have fresh tears glistening on their cheeks. How strange it is, to see a crowd of people cry for you. They're getting wet in the rain.

I notice a grey Toyota with a dented bonnet and a shattered windscreen. I notice a man in a suit sitting beside it, with his face in his hands and his hair wet around his ears. I notice a policeman with his hand on the man's shoulder, and he seems to be speaking fast and slow all at once.

I can hear shrieking, and with a jolt I realize it's Cassie. She's straining against the mass of people, her eyes wild with fear and panic, screaming my name.

"Let me through, that's Aly! That's my sister!" Her screams are so loud they almost seem inhuman, like a dying animal. I've never seen her look so afraid. "Oh God, please don't let that be Aly."

I watch as she falls to the ground, knees giving way beneath her. Her silk dress is soaked with rain and mud, clinging to the shape of her legs. She swats Kyle away as he tries to lift her, her hands shaking. She's still screaming for me as the ambulance pulls away, tires spraying droplets of rain in its wake.

I try to go to her, but my body feels strange. I am weightless, like I'm floating in a pool of water, gravity dulled and useless. I struggle against the space around me, but it holds me back, threatening to return me to the darkness.

As the crowd disperses, all that's left is Cassie's trembling form curled on the ground, and broken shards of glass shimmering on the road like stars.