Keeper (bajancanadian) editing/re-writing

The Dream

After being interviewed, we drove back in our separate cars, even though Mitch insisted that he'd take me home and then come get my car later.

As soon as I pulled my car into the garage, Mitch sauntered across our front lawns to me. A single tear slid down my cheek as he pulled me into his embrace, mumbling comforting things into my ear as he led me inside. "I'm gonna get you to bed, alright?"

I made a small noise in affirmation, and when we got the the stairs, I'm walking so slowly that he decided to pick me up and carry me to my bed. When we reached my room, he set me down before sitting next to me as I took off my jacket and shoes. Laying down, I stared up at the ceiling for what felt like forever until the bed shifted. I looked over at Mitch, who seemed like he was about to leave. "Don't go," I whispered, my voice weak and shaky.

He gazed at me a moment before nodding slowly. I reached out and took his hand to gently pull him towards me. "Just stay here."

I looked up at him as he slipped off his jacket and his shoes, laying down beside me and pulling the covers up to our chests; it wasn't the first time we'd slept in the same bed. "Bri," He spoke my name after a long silence, and I glanced over to him in the almost pitch-black room. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" I croaked, my voice hoarse because of my earlier sobbing.

"I shouldn't have let her go."

"We both know that she would've found a way to go, anyway." I gave a soft sigh, shifting so that I faced him.

He pulls me halfway onto him, so that I'm nestled into his chest; I can feel his voice making his chest vibrate as he talks. "I'm still sorry."

"I am, too."

My eyes began to close, then, as I listened to the beating of his heart as he started to fall asleep, and then his lips quickly brushed against the top of my head. "I love you, Bri."

"Love you too, Mitch."

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I'm running on the road, feeling the adrenaline pump through my veins as the urgency told me to push forward. I can feel the wind cutting violently at my face as I rush towards somewhere, wherever I need to go I can feel the urgency. I can hear the pounding of my shoes hitting the ground with each grueling step. I can taste the metallicity of blood in my mouth, the coppery taste filling my senses. I can smell the blood, too, and I can see a car in the distance, its lights on as it shown towards me, cutting through the black night. And I can sense that something is very wrong.

Grey truck.

My heart skips a beat as I recognize it.

No.

I try to run faster when I see the figures on the edge of the bridge. "No!" Escapes my lips, the mangled noise barely able to be called a word. The words Watson Bridge flash as I pass a sign, but I pay no attention to it. My body protests with the agony of throwing myself into a full sprint, something I never did. Something I never gave a thought to.

Why is this happening?

The thought seems to slap me across the face, leaving a red mark on my already aching heart. I can't see who they are, but as I get closer I can make out their shapes. And then I'm almost there, but it's already too late.

The words cut me like a knife, "I'm sorry." They say in unison, before dropping off the edge and out of my sight.

Together.

My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach with a crash, likely shattering there at the bottom.

Without me.

A loud shriek escapes my lungs, filling the air as I nearly throw myself over the edge of the bridge. Gripping the cement so hard my knuckles turn a ghastly shade of white, I find myself unable to move, as if trapped by an invisible force. I want to go too, I want to die too, but the wall won't let me. I scream, hoping that the sound of my shrill, unraveled voice will bring them back. "Come back!" I wail, throwing my fists against the barrier.

I spend what feels like an eternity there, hitting the wall as hard as I can. It seems like every second I would hit it, until my arms feel too weak to move and I only hit it after every ten. My body burns with fatigue, sweat dripping from my pores and landing on the pavement below where I lean my forehead against the barrier. I can still taste the blood, but my mouth is dry so I know I'm not bleeding. The coppery taste lingers there as I open and close my mouth like a fish gasping for water to fill its gills. I can almost feel it as my lungs expand, gathering all the oxygen they can before contracting once more and leaving me feeling empty again, before repeating the process.

There is nothing left.

My eyes-- that I didn't realize had shut-- open then, and I feel like crying but I can't. The tears that I know are there won't fall.

It seems like a sick metaphor, because I won't fall either.

My body won't cooperate with me now. I can hear the still frantic thumping of my heart in my ears like clockwork, and as soon as I become aware of this my knees buckle and I drop onto the cement. I feel like I'm trapped in a cage within my own body.

I'm facing upwards now, gazing at the sky that seems so peaceful but in reality it taunts me with the peace it brings. It tells me that it has something I do not.

I can smell blood again, and out of the corner of my eye I catch maroon liquid seep into the cracks in the pavement. It is my blood. That is my blood.

My head screams, I want to let out a cry but my voice won't cooperate. The blood crawls further into the grey of the sidewalk before flowing like a river onto the asphalt. As I watch, a searing pain strikes me in the back of my head and I open my mouth to let out a shriek but it never comes. My eyelids fall shut and I can hear laughing.

It was melodious at first, soothing almost. I let my eyes flutter open, trying to find the source of the comforting noise, but all I could see was darkness. Then I listened as it became mocking. And then sinister.

"Stop!" I shout, my voice echoing with the laughter and making my head throb with the ear-piercing sound. It hurts, it's so painful, I want it to stop. I squeeze my eyes shut. My hands fly up to cover my ears but it's no use, the noises only get louder and louder until I can do nothing but scream just to hear the sound of my own voice. And then it stops. Everything just... Stops.

It's silent, no sound at all. It's like I'm deaf.

Am I?

I let my arms drop again and I realize that I am standing when my hands hit my legs. I blink, but there is nothing to see. I open my mouth, but there is nothing to say.

I feel as if I am floating in an endless abyss. A black hole, even. I shut my eyes to make me feel like my eyelids are the only thing causing the darkness, but there is no change. It is still a soul-crushing shade of black, so dark it's tendrils could reach out and suck me into the shadows. But I am already in the shadows. I am the shadows.

I can hear voices now. Their words are much too jumbled for me to make out what they're saying, but the sound brings me comfort. Tentatively, I open my eyes to see nothing, still the darkness, but through all the noise I hear one voice. I can make out the words. "You didn't save me."

I whip my head around, looking frantically for the source, but there is only darkness to meet me whichever way I go. The words become more insistent, louder, louder, until I can't take it anymore.

I let my body crumple to the floor as I screw my eyes shut, not planning to open them anytime soon. And then I can feel myself falling. My legs and arms kick and flail to find something to grab onto, but there is nothing. I'm free falling. My ears are ringing, it's all I can hear until-- crack. The sound of my skull hitting asphalt at high speed causes my eyes to snap open.

I'm gazing at the sky now. It's dark, and I'm alone. With the last bits of strength I can bring myself to use, my voice breaks the silence as the life leaves my eyes. "I'm sorry."

No one is there to hear me.