Wake me

18: Kisses and Insanity

Warm, sticky lips traced down my sensitive neck, and I opened my eyes in surprise. These lips seemed too familiar, something I had felt before on my skin. I pushed my hair aside, opened my eyes and was shocked to see Luke standing over me, leaning, his mouth pressed on my neck and shoulders. "Wh-what! Luke!" I cried out, using all my strength and pushing him away with weak hands. His eyes didn't seemed surprised, instead he allowed my force to back him away into the wall, which was close behind him. His ash hair was hiding his normally piercing blue orbs, but they were now dull eyes of grey and mist- like Anna's. My teeth chattered nervously, and I said nothing. He watched me from beneath his curtain of tangled, greasy hair and he rung his hands. "Grace," he said croakily, "Grace, it's you."
"Where am I?" I demanded, tears beginning to swell behind my eyes. I looked around- I was in a room just like the old one, except with a metal framed bed and no Anna. "You don't need to worry about that," he breathed, "You're with me, right?" I still couldn't remember him, memories were there but unclear, like frosted mirrors after a steaming shower.
"I don't remember you," I murmured, "Who are you?" I was expecting the same, solid expression but now a streak of hurt adorned his eyes.
"Y-you don't r-remember me?" His eyes darted nervously around the room, his frail knuckles cracking.
"No," I shook my head, swallowing as he came closer, his eyes now fixed on mine.
"But you m-must, we were soul mates." The words rolled off his tongue as if he had practiced saying it so many times- he said it perfectly. I couldn't imagine the word coming out of somebody's mouth any other way.
"Soul mates?" I mumbled, my mind going over the words definition and meaning.
"A-are you saying you don't remember what... What we had?" His body moved towards me, his familiar face close enough that I could reach out and touch him, slap him, punch him. Instead, I pulled him closer. He stared deep into my eyes.
"I saved you," he said, his eyes watering. "From reality. I needed you back." I thought he was going to start crying, and when a tear escaped his eyes, it felt like it was fate to pull him towards me. And so I did, gingerly, and he urged forward and pressed his warm lips onto mine. I moved mine slowly with his, and to my surprise, it felt so effortless and right. It was as if the skin on his lips and moved with mine before, as if they had danced the same dance before. I kissed him, and what felt like long, stretched out minutes, he stopped. He pulled his head away, and stared into my eyes. I could see my reflection his glassy eyes, misted up, frosty. "Grace," he murmured, "Grace Parker."
"Luke," I whispered, "Why can't I remember anything?"
He looked at me, his eyes trailing down my neck to my shoulder, then to my arm. His eyes widened at the sight of a bloody rag. "I'm sorry," he said hurriedly, "I didn't mean to do this- I don't know wh-what..."
"Luke," I said his name again, firmer, "Calm down, look at me. I need to talk to-"
"I'm sorry," he repeated again, his voice stammering. He peeled off the material and grabbed an injection from under the bed, piercing it into my wound. I screamed out, and just as my scream hit the wall with echoes, he slammed his hand over my mouth and secured it there, pushing the needle deeper into my flesh.
"I have to-" he moaned, "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry...."
I couldn't say anything besides scream against his sweaty palm, tasting the salt on my tongue. My eyes clearly showed true pain as the needle struck my bone, and Luke pushed his hand harder into my mouth, his knuckles white. "I don't want to do this. I have to. You'll die or something." He groaned, and then pulled out the needle with a quick withdrawal. He slowly removed his hand, and let it slide down my shoulders, trailing down my stomach to my pant hem. He kept it there, not flinching, and apologized countless times under his breath. He brought his hand and pulled apart the wound gently, peering in. "The injection will help," he said softly, "Grace, I'm sorry. Grace Parker." His body trembled and shook unhealthily, and he gave me a soft kiss on the forehead. His lips felt like home- someplace I wanted to retire to everyday. That was when I remembered Anna.
"I need to see my friend," I said, "I need to see her."
"Your... Friend?" He spat the word out like a curse word.
"Yes, please. I need to talk to her- she's dying, please. I need to help." I begged.
"You can't, you're with me, I-"
"Luke," I allowed a thick tear to slide down my cheek, "Please." He looked at me, pondering. Was it that hard?
"I will bring her here," he decided, "You, stay, here."
I nodded, thanking him as he left the room. As the door closed, I dived off the bed and swung my head under the bed. To my suspicion, there were needles, pills, medication bottles and drugs hidden in the wiring of the bed frame under the mattress. I had a pocket on the inside of jacket, and slipped in random pills bottles and glass cylinders into the pocket. I grabbed a bottle, reading the back of it, and it said to 'see instruction guide inside'. The bottle looked familiar, so I opened the lid quickly and tugged out a paper.
But I was expecting an instructions booklet, not this.
I'm sorry. I didn't know this was going to happen. It happened in the flash of an eye, as if time was made up until that point. Everything rushed before my eyes, and when I looked at your swollen, hollow face, I knew I was never going to be happy again. I had lost my happiness that day, the love of my life. I had lost my soulmate. You're so beautiful when you sleep, Luke. I'm sitting at your bedside, like usual, I come here every day to check up on you, to make sure your heart monitor was still in program. Luke, I don't know if you know, but I'm crying. My tears are falling and smearing onto your hospital bed, it looks grey now. Luckily tears don't stain, well at least I don't think they do. Your eye lids don't even flutter- is the dream you're having scary? I don't know, but I hope I'm in them. I hope I'm the girl with a red cape that saves you. I hope that when you wake up, you read this. And I hope you know that I am always yours, you're mine. Wake up, please. Please. Wanda is going to come and call me for supper now, or for bedtime curfew, and I'll be left with empty words and empty hopes that will kindle out. Luke, if you don't wake up, I'm never going to snap out of this depressing trance. I feel like a zombie. You don't understand. How selfish of me! You're the one stuck in this never ending sleep, and although that sounds great, it's not. I can't see you, you can't see me, you can't run away from the nightmares in your head or the uncomfortable sheets on your bed. You're not alive. I'm not alive without you. One of us needs to wake up, Luke. And I'm not ready. Wake up, please. Please. I love you.

The hand writing was scrawled out untidily in a black pen, and I was surprised. Was this... Me? Red and blue lights flashed in my mind, and I wondered- was it a memory? A memory that was triggered by this piece from the past? I folded the paper roughly, sliding it into my pocket and rushing to lay back on the bed just in time. The door opened, and I couldn't focus between the raging questions in my head to the girl in front of me, withering away slowly. Her eyes were sunk in, cheeks hollow, and Luke let go of her dainty wrists. Anna swayed on her feet, before falling forwards onto the bed with me.
"Luke, please I need you to do something," I whispered, "Help her."
"I don't have anything to help her with," he said, and I knew for a fact he was lying. The bottle in my pocket was cold pressed against me, it's rim touching my goose flicked skin. Underneath me lay tons of other bottles and pills, and Luke knew about them. I shivered. "I want to go back," I said stiffly, "Back to the room."
"B-but you have a bed here," he reasoned, "It's better-"
"No. I want to go back to the other room now." I looked seriously into Luke's eyes, and he couldn't bear to stare into mine any longer. He looked away, breaking the gaze, and slowly unlocked the door. "I'll... I'll take you there."
"Thank you." I murmured, holding Anna close to me. She smelt of rot and death, even pieces of her hair began twisting out in large, matted clumps.
We were led down a simple corridor, much like one you'd see in a hospital, and we passed many doors with empty, echoing rooms. It was frightening, and we reached our door. Luke sort of shoved us in, slamming the door behind him. I waited until I couldn't hear his footsteps any longer, and ripped out all the medicine from my pocket. Anna didn't even respond, except blink her misty eyes.
"Here," I whispered, "Anna? You're going to take this, okay?" I popped two pills onto her dry, flaked tongue and I watched her swallow dryly. "Good, good. Now this is going to sting." With a set face and grimacing mouth, I pulled out the cylinder and insured it was the same one that Luke had put into my wound. The point was long and sharp, and I carefully unwrapped the material. Vomit appeared at the back of my throat and swallowed it down, the acidic flavor ringing through my body. I inserted the needle into the dead, chunky flesh and pushed. I pushed so hard I think I might have gone through her bone, but the needle didn't snap. I sprayed the liquid medication into her, it's translucent color coating the flesh and dying muscle in a thin mucus-like layer, sticky and wet. I pulled the needle out, and wondered if I was supposed to let the wound air. Instead, I wrapped the material around and patted Anna's opposite shoulder.
"Are you okay?" I asked gently.
Anna lifted her chin, and I knew that she was in a bad way. Her jawbone was adorned with blue, purple and yellow spots and veins, and her neck was thin and pale. Her eyes sported heavy, blue bags under them. The bridge of her nose was far too arched and slim, and her lips small and flaked. "Anna," I said again, "You alright?" She blinked her moist eyes slowly, and gave a tiny nod. "I'll be fine." She articulated hoarsely, coughing up some strings of maroon and Crimson. I wiped her mouth with my sleeve, and told her to get some rest.

The night, or whatever it was, was cold and unforgiving, and the thin blanket shared between us was brittle. I cuddled close to Anna, pushing my body against hers, hoping that my body heat would be enough to last her through the night. Her breath was a deadly rale, and at any moment I imagined her soul to slip out between her lips. "Grace?" She breathed.
"Anna, are you okay? Do you need me to do some-"
"Grace," she repeated, "I'm dying." Grief went through my muscles and body, riveting my emotions side to side, and I grabbed hold of stiff hand. She was dying, my best friend was dying, and there was nothing I could do about it.