Dreams

Just One More Chance.- Min Yoongi

  The room was silent, nothing dared to move, for fear of disturbing the peace. Thankfully, the old analog clock stopped working and was replaced with a digital clock.  Looking beyond the window, she could see that it was pouring rain like the was no tomorrow. But she couldn't hear it. She could hear nothing, but she was not deaf. All she could hear was the melody of a piano playing in the deepest parts of her mind. No matter how she hard she tried, the lonely melody kept coming back, starting where it stopped like it never ended.

  "What are you looking at?" the adult on the other side of the room asked.

  "The rain," she answered. It reminded her of another melody.

  "What are you thinking about?"

  "Does it really matter?" she asked.

  "So, you're thinking about him? Aren't you?"

  She looked at the doctor with eyes colder than death. It wasn't that she hated her doctor, but she hated that she always brought him up. She didn't hate him, she only felt guilt, pain, and misery when he was brought up. She didn't want to think about him anymore. But she knew that's what she deserved.

  "Are the melodies playing again?" the doctor asked,"I know it's hard Prizarma, but you have to talk about him or about what you're comfortable with talking about. Just please, try speaking or it'll get harder,"

  "I can't...everything I do, everything I say, reminds me of him. I can't... close my eyes without seeing...him," She explained looking down out the window.

  "So that's why your mother tells me you rarely sleep anymore," she stated,"is there anything that doesn't remind you of him?"

  "Living, just being alive," Prizarma answered in a robotic monotone voice.

  "But he is alive, correct?" she asked concerned.

  "He's in limbo. He's not alive...but he's not dead. Yet that is...it's cliff and he's teetering off the edge," she explained, voice threatening to crack.

  Prizarma slouched back, watching the rain, fidgeting with her hands. Trying her best not to let a single tear fall from her eyes. It was all her fault. She couldn't stop the memories from playing. She couldn't stop the piano from playing. Nothing would stop.

  "It's okay to feel guilty, but it's not your fault,"

  Prizarma looked over to her doctor, wishing, hoping she was right. But all she could think about was what she did, and what she should have done.

  "Prizarma, have you gone to visit him yet?"

  "No," guilt.

  "Why?"

  "Because why not?" more guilt.

  "You know what I want to know, Prizarma?" she asked.

  "What?"

   "What's his...name?" She asked smiling.

   "W-what?" Prizarma stuttered whilst choking on air.

   "What's his name?" she repeated.

   "But you already know his name, you've read the police reports," she responded puzzled.

   "Why not,"she responded shuffling papers,"I've never heard you say his name,"

   "The real question is...which name,"Prizarma shot back,"He has many, you know," she said twirling around in her chair.