Sing Me To Sleep

Chapter 7

When I finally drift back into unconscious consciousness, the atmosphere around me seems empty, like my mind has become hollow. I can't bring myself to open my eyes for a few long moments. I know that when I do, I'll be alone. Again. The skeleton boy will be gone and I'll be left to my own solitary devices. The darkness that seems to blanket my mind and, right now, my mind's manifestation of my body in a suffocating pressure. I feel cold and bare against the engulfing shadows, like a dark soul that encompasses my own, swallowing it whole. 

When I finally bring my eyes open, I see that I was right; It's dark again. Blackness covers everything, blinding me to even my own pale skin as I stretch a hand out in front of me. But I can tell I'm alone. There's no memory or recollection that buries me in retrospection. Just the simple emptiness and I suddenly feel lost in the depths that surround me. I want him back. I want to see the skeleton boy so much that my chest aches with the loss. 

It's a strange feeling to me. For so long, I had felt empty. But this... This here was not emptiness though it seemed much like it was. The emptiness I had felt for so long made me numb, but this, what I feel right now, is different from that calloused emotion. I was in pain. I was sad. I was alone and, in all honesty, I was scared. I longed to see the skeleton boy, for if no other reason than to feel the warmth of his body so close to mine. I wanted to hear his voice again. I wanted to know I wasn't alone. 

But this is all in my head. My body, out there in the real world where I lay still in slumber, I know I will always be alone. That's why I tried to kill myself. The emptiness, the constant numbness that pricked at my mind, was overbearing. I just wanted it all to end. But here in my head, I realized, I could make it anything I wanted. I didn't have to be alone, even if it wasn't real.

I close my eyes tightly, attempting to clear my mind. I bite my lip, crossing my legs at the ankle as I try to manifest what I want in my own head. 

"It won't work." The voice jerks me out of my concentration and I nearly jump out of my skin. My eyes land on a figure a few feet ahead of me, a small amount of light now illuminating the scene around me, which is still empty aside from him and myself. "It won't work, " He repeats, taking only a small step closer. "You're trying too hard." I wait, not saying anything. I'm not really sure which words to use. I only stare blankly at him. "Relax," He mumbles softly, his voice filling my ears as a tranquil feeling rushes over me. He smiles. "Good." He moves toward me again, walking past my shoulder and turning so he faces my back. I feel his hands settle on my hips, his lips seeming so close to my ear as he breathes out. "This is your mind, Frank," He tells me. "You can make it whatever you want."

I inhale a slow breath, turning my head to the side to look at him. His face is next to mine, an inch away at most, and it seems as if my lungs have stopped working. My heart lurches into my throat, stopping there as he turns his alluring gaze on me. His eyes seem to shimmer in the dark, like they themselves are glowing, emitting a light of their own. I'm extensively aware of the warmth on my sides where his hands touch me. His pink lips lift up in a small smile, revealing small white teeth. His eyes seem to search mine in a way I've never experienced before. It makes my heart accelerate and seemingly stop all at once. It's like he sees me. He sees past the darkness I cover myself in, past the depression and the pain, seeing something within me that makes his smile grow wider. 

I want to kiss him. I want to bring him closer to me, wrapping my arms around the strange angel and never let him go. But I know I can't because, even with the butterflies that seem to be seizing in my stomach, I know that this isn't real. This boy, the sensation that builds in me when he touches me or when he sings. None of it is real. I know that, in only a matter of time, I will wake up and all of this will be gone. I'll once again be alone. 

Part of me wants to enjoy this sensation while it lasts. This is my mind, I can do whatever the hell I want. If I want to give myself to him, right here on the blackened floor, I can. It will feel real enough, even if I have to wake up afterwards. But another part of me knows that I can't do this. I can't give in and feel everything when I know that it will all disappear, once again leaving me with nothing. I can't bare the sensation of becoming numb once again after feeling so full of passion. My body, my mind, my heart, every fiber in my being knows that I cannot kiss him. 

So I simply close my eyes, letting my head roll back, resting on his shoulder. I feel his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me close. It almost seems like he's holding me up. I feel like I might fall over if he were to let go and worry fills me. I will myself to open my eyes, knowing that if I close them, he could disappear. I turn my neck again though he looks straight ahead.

"You were trying to make a parade," He mumbles, feeling my gaze on him. I nod. I remember the day so clearly that my father took me to see the parade. The skeleton boy looks down at me. "Would you like me to help?"

I think it over for a second before responding. I don't answer his question, instead asking one of my own. "Who are you?"

He looks away again though his hands still remain against me. "I am a manifestation," He says. 

I narrow my eyes. "I created you? In my head?"

"Kind of." The boys eyes seem to crinkle up as well as he thinks. "I am your anchor."

I shake my head slightly, not understanding. "What does that mean?"

"I am a mixture of memory and formation," He explains. I watch his mouth as he speaks, the words soft and placid, but I don't relax. Relaxation could make me fall asleep again and I don't want that right now. Not when I'm finally getting answer. So I focus on the way his jaw moves when he forms the words, the concentration in his eyes as they bore straight ahead. He looks down at me. His gaze is impenetrable, desperate and dominant at the same time, and I can't look away. "Why can't you just wake up, Frank?" He says, dejection filling his voice, pleading and full of misery. "Wake up and fucking see that I'm right here."

His hands leave my sides as he quickly spins me around to face him. His eyes are still searching mine, his hands now placed in my own, squeezing tightly. When he speaks again, his voice seems deflated and empty. The skeleton boy sighs sadly. "God, I need you, Frank."

I expect to hear the singing again and as I stare at the boy in front of me, his mouth opens. But no sound comes out. There is no melody, no music, no singing. Instead, faintly in the distance, I hear a soft cry. The boy before me has tears in his eyes but no sound escapes him. No. The sound is out there, in the real world. 

My heart seems to ache as the realization hits me. Someone out there is crying for me.