Death Becomes Us

Chapter Fifteen

My entire body crawls with the flames even when my eyes snap open and I wake from the dream. The sun blinds me and I close them again, inhaling deeply through my nose. I can still feel the dream, the panic clinging to my bones and wiping away my surroundings until there is nothing left except for darkness and terror.

I am afraid. Three times I repeat this to myself, dwelling on it, on the feeling of hopelessness and isolation. I am immobile, frozen with every muscle tensing until they ache. It makes me sick, my stomach churning and threatening to reject its contents. John was right. His words, his explanation, could not bring to life what fear really feels like.

"James?"

I start in surprise at the sound of Elizabeth's voice, tilting my head in her direction without opening my eyes. I had forgotten she was here with me.

"Elizabeth," I murmur, so low that she doesn't hear.

She doesn't need to hear though. I draw comfort from the very utterance of her name, knowing that I am not alone.

"James, are you all right?" she asks, tracing her leaf down the bridge of my nose.

She pauses and her hand lightly clasps around my forearm. Instinctively I reach around to hold it there and feel the resulting weight of guilt settle on my chest. She shouldn't be here with me.

"You're trembling."

"I'm burning," I say, feeling the illusion of my insides blistering. I'm burning into oblivion.

I expect her to scoff, to tell me that she warned me of burning in the sun, but she doesn't. Instead Elizabeth coaxes me into a sitting position and doesn't stop me from holding my head in my hands, as if it could help me escape. I can feel her near me, hear her breathing softly, and it begins to anchor down my reality.

"It's okay," she says, murmuring the words twice more.

A hysterical bubble of laughter resides in my throat, doing everything it can to force its way out and break me. Swallowing hard, I breathe through it until I no longer feel like I sit on the edge of madness.

"What don't you want?"

I jerk my head around and stare at Elizabeth who sits on the balls of her feet. She seems unsure of herself, her eyes a little guarded and wary. I have alarmed her. She doesn't wait for me to answer and shifts a fraction closer before rocking back on her heels.

"I didn't know you were asleep," she tells me. "I didn't think you had enough time to, but you were talking and—"

"What did I say?" I question with a sharpness I hadn't intended.

She jumps at my abruptness and then shakes her head, her expression baffled. "Nothing...It's just that you kept repeating that you 'don't want this'." Elizabeth hesitates before looking at me directly, "What don't you want?"

"I don't want to remember," I reply haltingly after a moment. "I want to forget my dream."

'And who I am,' I add silently.

I gasp with a sudden surge of pain like fire bolting up through my limbs; dropping my hands into my lap, I gape at them in horror. My hands, they seem to disintegrate into hot ash, burning up from the edges and drifting away into the wind. Grimacing, I blink hard and look again, flexing fingers that are once again whole.

"I have the strangest feeling that my subconscious is trying to tell me something," I say. "But I have gone so long without listening that perhaps it is too late."