-Today, I dream about him too-
My angel. My savior. My love. How come he always knows? How come he always arrives just in time to stop me?
As years passed I began to use it. To use my mind to call him. I wonder what would happen if I set the house on fire? If I...but no. Hypotheticals won't do it. I need to be sure. I need to plan. To be adamant about doing it. It doesn't matter what; murder, arson, thievery, he'll stop it all. And then, only then, am I able to see him. I have confessed time and time again. He just looks sadly at his feet, lip trembling. A soft rejection in his mouth while my love for him grows. After all, how can he not love me?
He always comes. Always. I just need to do what's necessary for it to happen.
The window has been broken. The house's owners are still sleeping, even while petrol is being poured all over their living room. Over the family's coffee table and the little child's toys. But is not until the match has been lit that he appears.
-We talked about this.
He looks stern. Disappointed. But oh, so loving. He sighs. He knows I won't answer, because he already knows my answer.
-Here, give it to me.
His fingers take the match from mine and crush it. Such powerful fingers. So rough. So gentle. He always uses them to comb his hair when he doesn't know what to do. He always combs his hair when he sees me. How I wish he would use them to caress me instead.
-You know I'll just leave again.
I beg him not to. I always beg him not to.
-Don't you see it's useless? You call me and I come, but not even I know why anymore. What if I don't dream of you again. What then? Will you just burn it all to ashes?
That's new. He's never spoken about a dream before, not in the many times I've seen him over the years. I ask him why he's never told me I appear in his dreams. Surely that means something. Surely he loves me. Surely.
-You don't understand. I'm no angel. I've told you - he looks away now. To the floor, and then to the pile of toys not so very neatly put away in a childish yellow box in the corner of the room. Andrea's, it reads in bold handwriting.
-I dream about you. Glimpses at first, now they are whole, lengthy, detailed dreams. Dreams of you killing people. Of you doing the unspeakable. You murder and murder and murder, yelling my name. It is then that I wake up, only I'm next to you, wherever you happen to be at the moment, insead of in my own bed. I dream of murder, and I prevent it. But I can't do it anymore. I can't. You say you love me, but how can I love a murderer? And yet, I can't love anyone else. Not while I dream of you.
I ask him if I'm just that. A dream. A figment of his imagination. It is the great fear of mankind, to be made up, unreal, part of someone else's mind. Of someone else's dreams. It is mankind greatest fear, but not mine. After all, God loves all his creations, doesn't he?
-No. No. That's the problem, you see? I could...I would ignore all this if it was just a dream. And I did, at first. I ignored you. I ignored everything that happened that night. A couple of days later, your name was all over the news. An abused teen who'd killed his stepfather in a fit of rage. And I dreamt about it again and again. Every single night. For months. The rape, the beating, your druged up mother slumped against a corner, no longer breathing. Your rage. Your tears. I dreamt about them countless nights, wishing I could stop it all; until one day I could. Then it was your foster family, the cigarette burns, that guy who attacked you on your way out of the pub. But slowly, gradually, things stopped happening to you, and you started to make things happen. The old lady you tried to push down the stairs. The guy you tried to stab in the elevator. You need to stop this. You need to stop it. Because I won't come anymore. I won't be there anymore to stop you. I can't. I'd rather die than keep on dreaming about you.
...the young teen repeatedly stabbed the whole family to death before commiting suicide himself. The motive that drove him to it is still unknown. On related news it has been released to the public that the other pair of fingerprints left at the scene match that of another case of suicide, a man found dead four days ago in the small town of Fé. His involvement in the case is still being investigated.
