dreamland

thirty-two

Red.
Red.
Red.
The color of my mother's dress and the lipstick on my dad's cheek and of the box of chocolates he brought her.

It was Valentine's Day and a wild, unrealistic, stupid, piece of me hoped he would knock on my door and tell me he wanted me too. I knew that wouldn't happen. Just like I knew it wouldn't stop snowing until maybe, next week. I listened to my music so loud and when my best friend arrived I knew she felt blue. We lied on our backs on my unmade bed and stared up at the ceiling with my window open so that the marijuana smell could seep on out to the afternoon air. I got so stoned that I started to make shapes out of the paint on my ceiling. The music began to sound like seagulls at the beach and like angels singing to me.
My best friend jumped on my bed, her hair flying up and down like something of it's own. I just felt dazed and good and gray with the chocolate candy wrappers on my stomach and littering the ground. After some time I think I fell asleep because when I woke up, she was gone. She was gone and I was alone and it was pitch black outside. I woke up with that sensation of knowing I hadn't dreamt anything. I don't think anyone was home because there was knocking, loud and ongoing and persistent. It sounded like it'd been going on for awhile because still, no one had opened up for whomever it was. I got up and I saw shapes where I shouldn't have and I ignored them and went downstairs. I bumped into the couch and then heard keys fall to the ground noisily as I walked through my home, almost mummy-like. I finally opened the door and when I did I wish I hadn't. I was pretty fucking sure that I was still high and that this was a nightmare. I rubbed my eyes, sleepy, exhausted for more than one reason.
You were speaking already, diving right into whatever thing you felt you simply had to tell me. Something shiny dropped from your hand and clattered to the floor as I started to ask why you were here. You wiped your hand off onto your white snug tee.

I saw red, red, red.

It was Valentine's Day after all. I said your name, still so disoriented and discombobulated, your fast hands and shaky voice didn't help, you needed to slow down.

Look, it's not him, it's not me, it's not you, you laughed shakily, it was her, that's what you were really trying to tell me, she was the problem, right, you asked.

I blinked at your eyes that screamed delusion and hands covered in something red, jelly, paint, what else was red, I asked myself. I stepped out and when I did I stepped back instead.

Oh god, I whispered as a car drove past and shed its lights down at what I had questions about now. It was right here, in front of me.

She doesn't matter, and now more than ever, you wiped your hands again and tried to reach for me. I flinched and already tears were falling out my eyes like a fucking waterfall. All those words; intense, unbelievable, secretive, wild, crazy. They all added up to one. What did you do, I whispered, to you and then mostly to myself. Your eyebrows knotted together and I knew that this was not how this scenario unfolded in your mind. I really don't know who you thought I was. I don't think you ever knew me. I don't think I knew you. We both had had this picture of someone that looked like each other in our minds but with insides filled with something else.

I ran inside and you followed behind me and suddenly I think I really met what fear was. It wasn't nothing like being scared of heights or of spiders or of falling. It was more like darkness falling over you, like a black blanket that was cold and scratchy. I screamed when I couldn't find my phone because I knew you were close behind me.

Don't hurt me, please, I said realizing I couldn't remember where I'd left it. I stopped where I was, near the fridge, a grocery list on it and a picture of a snow covered mountain from when my dad had been to Switzerland. I felt drowsy like with something heavier than cough syrup or lack of sleep. And then I suddenly had the picture of her saying the same words before you did it. I reached, blindly, for something to hold onto because this was too much for me. God, oh god, I wanted to puke.

I turned to look at you and you had this face of shock and bewilderment, I would never, you said coaxingly. I did this for us, I wouldn't do it again, much the less to you, you said drawing closer.
I couldn't see your face or what you were thinking and I think that the sight of your face would not have helped either. But I could see it. This was how I was going to die. I was going to die in the hands of a guy who'd hurt me and will continue to.
In your hands.
More red, red, red.

I was crying so hard, please, please don't, I begged. I slipped on something wet and cold under my white socks and fell to the cold hard ground of my kitchen. I was sobbing so hard and wishing for a goddamn miracle. I wishing this was just a bad dream, I was going to awake from with slightly damp eyes. I closed my eyes and kept thinking, is this real life?
Is this real? But your voice and the bewilderment in your nightmare eyes confirmed that a dream could have never possibly ever been as ugly as real life.

What's wrong, what's wrong, you asked.

That absolutely baffled me, no, I cried it out and said no, no, no, in between awful heavy sobs. You would not touch me with your hands or even your finger. It didn't matter how many times you washed your hands, it would still be there, like a tattoo.

You said my name and I started to scream to block out your voice, all I could think was no, no, all I could scream out was no and no. There had to have been a clock somewhere that could have been turned back somewhere.
I stopped screaming and stood and backed from you and tried to reach for something sharp and ended up touching a knife. It wasn't the same one you'd held. It was another one, one that had actually been utilized for cutting open an apple and chopping up carrots and celery, but still, it made me feel so awfully queasy. It clattered loudly, as I dropped it, it screamed pain and danger and wrong.
I puked and then someone came after all. You were watching me and turned to look at the door. I heard my mother's voice as she said my name and she told you to back away from me, in a voice so firm and strong. I saw her, felt the comfort deep into my toes, she was here. I puked again and my eyes burned and my cheeks were sticky before my head fell to the cold ground.