Madness

Chapter 8- the nightmare

The rain was even sharper as they turned into a small, unfamiliar town and through a maze of narrow winding streets. Squinting into the littered darkness, Elena quickly realised everything seemed to have an unusually icy, distant slant to it. As the headlights dwindled on the cobbled roads, the car slowly came to a halt. The only movement was the slow rising of Frank's chest rising and falling rhythmically.

She wasn't exactly sure how she had arrived, but the solemn memory of empty, crooked roads and sharp turns still hung loose as flames in her mind.

Beyond the slightly cloudy windows, the urban city stood pompously around her. Millions of lights from the apartment buildings caused the dense black to glitter. A sense of joy wandered over her. To her joy was elusive, a stranger but now it was becoming much more focused. Everything was radiant with a wild liveliness, Elena still managed to feel rather alone. Her own beautiful, grey town differed immensely from the shimmering, champagne coloured hues of the city.

Only now did Elena properly recognise the city, London. Only having visited London once as a child, her memory of it was mild and broken. She did recall the hustle and amusement as their family ate McDonalds in the tube. A small smile crept on her face. That happiness was unfriendly and unbidden to her mind, it's memory loose and in pieces. That was like having someone else's shadow. Sucking in a sigh, Elena turned to face Frank. His awful yet somehow humorous jokes and twinkling eyes from that day were detached but still rang in her mind.

"Frank..." She murmured, gently pushing him as if to awake him. She found her throat dry like she had just swallowed crumpled leaves.

Grunting slightly, Frank quickly dipped back into his sleep. Although his face was tearstained and blotchy, skidding over him was a fragile, unbroke serenity like a star in bright mist.

She blinked. A dry, clumpy yet cloggy feeling had resided on her eyes. Dread darted over her like the brief shadow of an echo. No, it can't be! Not again!

In that moment terror seemed to sit on her shoulders like demons and only she could hear the sharpening of its knives.

Cautiously and deliberately, Elena rose her hand to her face and rubbed her eyes. A ruptured, lacey trail of cobwebs clung around her fingers, so thick it had seemed to give itself a pitiless life. Out of the complete silence, her own, strangled cry arose. The wail grew to a distorted sound which troubled Elena's mind whilst hushing the thoughts.

Rapidly pulling the rest of the discolored, grimy trail of, Elena felt her chest sink in despair. All this time she had hoped that it was clutter of spiders. Now it had vanished all together like a trifling sigh.

This isn't humane. I'm not human... Then what am I?

Dusky and unwelcome, her mother's fixed, vacant eyes passed through her mind like shadows through twilight. Leaving her shuddery and cold, she rubbed her head as a feeble attempt to rid of the muffled headache.

Dead is permanent. Dead is irreversible. Dead is forever.

There was nothing she could do to change that and just the thought made it seem like a fantasy. How can mum just vanish? How can she not be here? What about all the memories and her feelings and her soul? They can't just go.

Another thought crossed her mind, why don't I give a single damn?

Regret would come in quiet moments such as when she was about to fall asleep, have a walk or times like now. Times where everything was entwined in a subtle, soft yet eerily tranquil stillness. Regret taunted Elena, became cackles in her ears and twisted like a knife in her guts but now the regret was hardly a shadow.  She wanted to feel grief, she needed to feel grief. So why couldn't she? Why couldn't she feel?