Don't Call Me Dead

13. Leaving

I stand in the middle of the room, memories washing over me like waves. I'm still invisible, so the man walks repeatedly by me and through me as he goes about his daily chores. He keeps talking to himself and to the woman on the bed; he whistles and hums, he comes out of the hut and returns to prepare something in one of his cooking pots. All the while, I just stand there, trying to put the picture together in my mind.

"Are you comfortable?" He sits down next to the motionless woman. "You should wake up." He moves away the blanket covering her legs, places her bare feet on his knees and massages them. "You should start talking again. I miss it when you talked to me."

A thick piece of rope ties her ankle to the bed's frame. So that's how it is. She's tied up and she can't leave. Why did he tie her up? Did she try to escape?

It's not 'she'. It's not just some random woman lying on that bed. It's me. But it's hard to think of her like that. If she and I are one, then why am I standing here, invisible?

I examine her pale, placid face. She doesn't look like she's suffering now, but she must have. Stuck here with this man, unable to leave. Forced to do who knows what—not all the memories have returned yet, but some of them I'd rather not uncover. She suffered, yes. She wanted desperately out of here.

Hence the invisible me?

What am I? Her soul? Spirit? Astral body? I try to remember all I know about the out-of-body experiences, but there's not much. Monks claiming to have left their bodies through meditation. People seeing their bodies from above after near-death experiences. Could it be that? Could it be her wanting to leave so desperately that some part of her has succeeded to do that?

The man keeps massaging her feet.

I back away. I've seen enough. I must go and tell Jack about it. He'll tell the police where to look, and they will come and free me. I don't know how I'm supposed to reconnect with my body, but surely once she's out of here, it will be all right.

I turn around and exit the hut.

The sun is up, and the swamps don't look as grim as they did at night. My feet glide over the surface, faster and faster, until the trees begin to run backwards at a dazzling pace. Jack will tell the police. They will help. They will end this madness.

Then, I feel something.

It's strange. I haven't had any sensations for who knows how long—no pain, no cold, no hunger. I'm not sure what it is that I'm feeling now. I slow down and hover among the trees, alert.

Then, something stabs me in the back.

I gasp and whirl around, but there's nobody behind me. Just the trees. What could there be? Nothing can touch me. I'm intangible.

Another stab to my lower back. I turn abruptly, yet I can see nothing unusual. Except that the trees start moving again. They go past me—but the direction is the opposite of what it was. I try to stop, to reverse my movement, but all in vain. Faster and faster I go, until the trees flying by merge into one blurry mess as some invisible force keeps pulling me back towards the hill with a door.

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