The Art Of You And I

Chapter fourteen: a glimpse into the past and also Meghan. Kill me.

I stood in a puddle of blood. My hands were smothered with the scarlet substance as I kneeled on it. Everywhere around me was darkness. Except for the fragile figure that stood above me dressed in a hospital gown with wisps of hair protruding out of her skull. It was my mom.

She smiled. "Yes darling. Keep going."

What am I doing? That was what I wanted to ask. But I couldn't move or speak.

I didn't need to, because she somehow heard my thoughts. "Don't you know? You're destroying yourself."

But I don't want to.

She smiled again, but blood started to drip down her chin from her mouth. "But you have to. If I am in pain, does that not give you the right to drown in darkness?"

She wasn't making any sense. What are you saying?

Her expression turned into a cold stare. Her dress started to fill with blood. "Don't you care about me?"

Of course I do-

"Then that does not give you the right to move on and be happy. Stay with me, and drown in your sorrow."

But-

"Do it for mommy."

Mom-

Suddenly, she lunged towards me with a horrific expression. She gripped my arms hard and screamed at my face.

"WAKE UP."

My eyes snapped open and I bolted up from my bed. I sat up and looked around me. It was morning. The sun shone through the window and the door was open. My clock read 9 AM. My dad was sitting at the edge of my bed, gripping my shoulders, his expression filled with worry.

"Baby, are you ok?" He asked me. "You were mumbling about blood and sorrow."

I sighed and buried my head in my hands. I was covered in sweat, my hair stuck to my forehead. "Just a bad dream."

He sighed and said nothing. He just waited. And I knew why he was waiting for me. It took me a couple of seconds to break, and I broke down sobbing. Thankfully, my father was there to hold me.

•

After a cold shower, I went back inside my bedroom to make a change of clothes. I decided on a thin blue sweatshirt, that hung loosely around my torso but ended short right beneath my belly button, and black leggings. After I decided to air dry my short black hair, I went downstairs to eat breakfast.

My dad somehow found the motivation to cook eggs and bacon, and it sat proudly on the kitchen island. After I devoured it all, I went on to make myself some coffee.

Memory from last night clouded my mind and it somehow made my heart skip a beat. I felt guilty for what I blurted out to Alex. Come to think of it, who would even say something like that? Why did I have to be rude to him? I mean, I am rude in general but this was something serious.

The trip back home was an awkward one. We haven't even exchanged a word. He just left in a heartbeat the minute I got off his car.

Without thinking, I took out my phone and dialed his number. I hesitated. Was this the right thing to do? Maybe he didn't want to speak to me. After an eternity, and on the last ring, he picked up.

"Alex?"

Pause. "Yes?" His voice sounded husky and deep, as if he was just woken up from sleep. But I can tell that from the slight tone of his voice, he was wary and cautious.

"Are we ok?" I asked hesitantly.

He didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, but he started to laugh softly, his deep chuckle vibrated against my phone.