Wake Up, For Us

~9~

That face haunts you, the face in the rain. It comes and it goes, and always, every single time, those words will be somewhere near.

"Wake up," it says, "For us."

You stand and stare one day, making eye contact for the first time.

The face is attached to a body, which has a hand cupping a steaming mug of tea.

Jo always did prefer tea to coffee.

That shark-like smile spread across that face, and memory upon memory came flooding back.

The distance blurs your vision a little, just enough that the wrinkles are imperceptible and the grey hairs blend into the blonde, that face is unmistakable.

Your first thought is, am I being followed? Has this face been lingering in my hedges and outside my windows?

Your next thought was no.

Of course, it hasn't, because it all makes sense to you now.

You don't have any hedges or windows.

You smile back, then you return to your car and you drive home, ignoring the call from your boss. The drive seems to pass too quickly, you smile as you leave your car and unlock your door.

Your precious little one has long since left home, and your precious other half is at work. It is, after all, the middle of the day. You should be at work yourself, but you have another plan today.

Your mother passed away many years ago, you cried at her funeral, but since then you have had a revelation, she's hasn't passed away.

That smiling face sits in the back of your mind.

You walk towards the kitchen, playing your plan over in your mind.

"For us," you think, your mother perhaps? Sam? Your father left the picture before you first saw the light of day, you have no siblings or grandparents.

You pick up a long knife from the knife block, and twirl it between your fingers.

The quickest and surest way to wake up from a dream is to die, if the films and books are to be believed. You always wake before you hit the bottom of the cliff from which you fell, you wake just before the axe falls onto your neck or the walls squeeze too much or the car comes too close.

You suppose that in your case, that is not entirely true. The car came too close, and it was then that you slept, and it was then that your family wept.

You twirl the knife further, and closer and closer.

You hear your door bang, kicked and broken, you know who it is without a word spoken.

"It's not real, is it Jo. It's all just a dream."

"Wake up then, and be sure you don't scream."

You draw the knife closer, it feels cool against your skin. You've barely been eating; your bones feel thin.

It's never felt real, not since that day, not since your whole life was taken away.

Your whole body urges you to return to your life, your real life, which what you are doing as you draw with the knife.

It burns at first, a white, searing pain that fills your mind. Then comes a calm, as the blood cascades and you feel an embrace from behind.

Jo lowers you to the ground, and begins to laugh. The grating sound makes you feel like a calf.

A calf bred for slaughter, bleeding out on the floor of the abattoir. You look, with pleading eyes, to your captor.

Your mother said that Jo would forgive you with time, you think, now, that she was being kind.

"I never forgave you," A whisper in your ear. "I've been planning this for years upon years."

"What?" You choke. Your vision is going dark.

"Your family will think that it was their failing, and it was, in a way. They took you from where you should have been waking, each morning, by me, not this false play-acting. You were never happy here, look what you're doing. You're so desperate to leave that your escape is dying."

"But it's not real." You say, you try to understand but your thoughts are slow and the colours feel grey.

"It shouldn't have been," Jo rocks you and cries. "But you left me alone, so I filled you with lies."

You claw at your deceiver as the life leaves your body, it isn't meant for Jo, but you still say, "I'm sorry."

You slip from the world, or perhaps you were thrown? Either way, for your love, the truth was never known.

 ~ fin ~