Meet Me at Three

•Ten•

choke me now ☠️
May 2017

It was all to weird.
   Beep... beep... beep...
My mind is fully awake, yet I can't open my eyes- I can't see them, but I can hear them.
Beep... beep... beep...
"Are you sure there isn't anything we can do?" A voice calls. It sounds so distant and distorted I can't place a finger on who it is. Familiar but not.
"There is absolutely nothing we can do. She could come back tonight, tomorrow, or next month. There is nothing I can do Miss Karp. You will have to come back after lunch, Okay?"
   Rachel? Rachel! I want to open my eyes but my lids just won't lift! I try my arms, but nothing happens. It's like I'm trying to lift 1,000 lbs weights. A sad defeat.
   "Whatever. Tell me when she wakes!" She huffs out of whatever room I must be lying in.
   "Will do," the voice- I can only assume belonging to Doctor Greene- speaks out.
   A sudden overwhelming headache throws my eyes around my closed lids like a basketball. I want to scream from the amount of pain my head is feeling. I feel like Lizzy Borden's Father, a sad victim of ax to head.
   'Oh! I feel like we haven't spoken in ages Anastasia! We just miss you so much!'
   If I could cry I would. If I could crawl into a ball I would. But I can't. I can't concentrate on what Greene is saying, or doing. The outside noise is like a whisper compared to the voices. I feel as if I am in their presence.
   I can feel them. A million hands running over my shoulders, breasts, thighs, neck. I'm suffocating. My nose and neck being pushed on. Or so I think.
'Don't be coy Ana. We just want to hold you.'
The hands keep wondering, and I can almost feel myself being thrown into a memory.
A beautiful girl with curvy hips and red lips mixes seamlessly with smoke and instantly transforms into green eyes, slick blonde hair, killer facial structure. A tall man in flannel, holding tightly to me. I can see everything about him now. His face no longer a blur, but a perfect picture. Clear as fucking day.
And the memory I thought I stored far in the back of my mind, replays like a movie- a horror movie of my demise. My mind cries out- screams with everything- but nothing actually happens.
'Being in a coma is fun isn't it?'
   The hands stop. But I still can't find Greene in the echoes. A coma? But how? I can't remember anything. Wasn't I just with Chukkie? In the cafeteria? I fish for memories of coming to see Doctor Greene, but come to nothing. Chunks of my past are missing.
'You know sweetie, you can ask us anything? We might just know the answer,' They giggle.
I'm tempted, but I know that taking them up in their offer might just put me in their favor- and I don't want to have to listen to them. I don't want them to begin with.
'Oh come on little girl, ask us anything. Ask us about Chukkie and how he grabbed you and called you Goddess. Go ahead- ask!" Another pain washes around my brain.
For the first time, I physically reach. My left hand twitches, as I mentally cry out. Just stop okay! I don't need answers from you!
A thud, sounding more like if someone had dropped a pencil on wood floor from the second level, invades the voices.
"Sister Samantha, she moved!"
It's faint, a quiet whisper, but a catch hold of the voice and concentrate- blocking the voices.
"Are you sure Charles?"
'Speak of the devil- it's the star of our show!' Another set of cackles echo out.
   Somehow I'm not surprised they are using mind tricks- they are evil after all. It was real! It had to of been!
The voices just laugh.
'It's astonishing what the brain can do Anastasia.'
No! Shut up! I have to wake up! WAKE UP ANASTASIA! Wake. UP!
More laughter. 'It's absolutely stunning what we can do to you.'
I scream. Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
'He never came back for you, you dumb cunt! You passed out, and we took over...' everything they say makes sense. It was all too perfect. He would never want me. He wouldn't waste time watching me.
'... Our favorite part was when you two touched hands. It was just like in the movies wasn't it?'
I'm crying- or at least I'm mentally crying. It's too much; knowing I'm in a coma, the voices, and the truths. How did I not know? It felt so real. His breath, his calloused touch. Just, him.
'Boy! You should have seen how pissed Luke was when he found out what happened! Let's just say Rachel will be a little bigger when you wake.' An ominous darkness covers me.
Why?
   They don't answer. No laugh. No cackle. No nothing. It's worry some, because they always have something to say, unless I'm on medication.
   I tone into the outside- needing to escape this hell. How do you get out of coma? If I could move I would. But I can hear, so that counts for something.
   "It's been a week Samatha, maybe you should go out and do something. I will look after her."
   Still unrecognizable, but I feel cold as the words register. Whoever the person is, I don't like them. A weird feeling graced my face. I concentrate on the feeling using that as an anchor to reality. What was that?
   "I'll be back tomorrow."
Sam? Oh my god- a week? How long have I been out? Samantha! Help me!
'They can't hear you. You're stuck with us...'
I'm more cold now. Shivering as a frost inches up my fingers to my elbow. Suddenly four spot lights shine over four figures. I can see them, but I can't see the outside world. It's like they have been here the whole time, only now deciding to show themselves. And then, I'm in my mind. Well my body is. I'm more confused with each passing second.
I notice I'm wearing a white silk slip dress. The cold felling increases causing goose bumps to invade my naked flesh. My simple look differs polar to them. They wear black robes with giant hoods, I can't distinguish their features. Only dark shadows.
   Who are you?
It's stupid- and I realize just how stupid as I let the question linger between us. Not seeing their faces doesn't make it difficult to gage their response. Four, unique, fully recognizable laughs, giggles, chuckles, out as I shrink back.
   'We figured, we'd keep you under until you... do everything we tell you to.'
   My head bows, stands of blonde falling into my face. A long, hard sigh passes my imaginary lips. I know it's important or they wouldn't have show themselves. Of course these can't be truly them-  they don't exists. They aren't real. They aren't real!
   'Ha ha ha! Of course we are real. As real as the poor sad blonde with a feeding tube and twenty four hour watch. As real as the sad little British boy that's denied in your room. Thanks to Lucas, of course.'
   Just stop! What do you want? Huh? Do you want to hurt me? Do you do want me to just give up? Because so do I! I scream as I step forward with each question.
Ending in front of the four people as to not shout to hear, I cross my arms over my barley covered chest. Go on. What do you want from me?
   Their faces are still covered save for the very bottom half of their chin. Each was a ghastly pale white, all seeming genderless and blank. How can something that doesn't truly exist, stand before me? How do I exist here when I belong in reality?
   There are too many questions to ask, but the answers will always boil down to them. I'm beginning to wish I had to be stuck with Lucas. At least he is somewhat good company.
'Isn't it obvious? We want the best for you. So stop taking your medication. Stop talking in therapy. Get out.'
   Get out? And how do you suppose I do that? Just walk out the door? I can't!
   I'm irritated as I pace the black plains of my psyche. How dare they think it that easy. I wouldn't make it a yard from the driveway before a stun gun or syringe hinder me unconscious. Five strikes- we have five strikes before... something bad happens. It makes me wonder what Charles has done, and how many times he's fucked up and forced to pay the penalty.
   I wonder how many times the ballsy Chukkie has dared to walk out. Just how far he's gotten. I like to think he would have at least just hit the  bottom of the hill we rest on, before being dragged away, cursing and all. Wild, dramatic. Chukkie.
'We'll help you when that time comes. Promise to us Anastasia. Promise us you'll listen and obey Lucas. You'll stop drugging yourself with that poison they give you to rid us. Stop everything that makes you happy...'
   I'm stunned. Shocked. Horrified.
'...and you will wake.'
   How could they say they want the best for me, but are forcing me to forget about my friends. Forget about Sam and Rachel. Maybe even books. Not books!
   But all thought falters as I realize they want me to obey Lucas. Why is my mind and a sick bastard conspiring against me? It's as if the world has decided I was to endure hell on earth. Tournament on the inside, tournament on the out. Physical and mental destruction.
I have no doubt that if I deny them, they will keep me here until I comply. They could probably actually hurt me. I don't need a second thought of the vile things they could do to me- with the ugly words they spew like small talk, I can only assume the pain would be unimaginable.
   Okay.
For the first time, they react human. One moves back some, another smirks with gray lips. The one closest me can't hold their smile as they run their tongue over their top row teeth. Familiar. The last responds.
   'Odd. She is quick to say yes. Why?'
It's my turn to be surprised. My face scrunches as I shake my head with anger.
   What do you mean 'why'? Because I have no other choice! Yes! I'll do everything! Just wake me up!
I'm sure my face is red. My heart beat pumps in my cheeks and ears as I slap my hands to my thighs. I'm so angry, I could probably stab someone. Maybe one of them; if only I had a weapon.
No- I don't want to do this. But I want to wake, or die. Either is okay with me at this point. It's voices or Lucas. I'll take the latter.
   The laughs. The stupid laughs.
'But we wanna play still.'
   I have no time to react. The one closest me reaches out, pulling my shoulders into their body and I'm suddenly no longer in my mind, but a room.
"Come out. Come out where ever you are." My mother sings as she creeps into my childhood room.
  I can see her so perfectly. She stands four feet from me. A long flowy pink dress with a flower print kimono frames her perfectly. Her wild blonde hair is held up with a few pins, the majority still hanging out. She's even more beautiful than I remember.
She doesn't notice me, continuing to pad softly to my bed. Giggles erupt from under the wooden bed frame. I watch her smile, radiant and stunningly pure. I know just why Father married her- why Uncle Roman wanted her. She walks like she has nothing in the world to worry about, a glide of charisma.
I follow, watching her pull something from behind her back. It's shiny, and small, but not what I would have guessed. She pulls a knife out, bending so elegantly to her knees.
What are you doing? My face scrunches in confusion as I watch. Stop Mom! I shout, going to push her over, but my hands go threw her like a cloud of smoke.
She places the knife to the quilt made bed, pulling a finger to her mouth, "I wonder where she could be," she taps her chin, a fast smile pulling to her glossed lips once again.
Falling with her hands for catch, she lies on the ground, "Got ya!" She laughs, pulling someone from under the bed.
I watch horrified, as she drags me out. Not young me; innocent me with big eyes and wild hair. But me, now, broken, frail me. I kick and scream as she pulls me by my hair.
There is nothing I can do.
I watch my mother toss me to the side, quick to grab the knife. She raises it above her head, both hands squeezing tight to the blade. I just cry on the floor, shaking my hands and head tears pooling around my hairline.
Mommy!
She hears me this time. Her head slowly turns to my direction, just by the door, in the corner. A sick smile graces her face and she plunges the knife to my chest. Blood spatters everywhere.
I instinctively grab my chest, a small pain forcing a hiss as I touch the same spot my mother stabbed me in. There isn't a wound, just pain.
   She continues. Stabbing over and over letting my warm blood completely drench her. I cry, backing into the corner. My back hits a wall, letting me slide down, a hand still to my chest.
   No... no... what did you do? I scream out, sobbing.
   Mother stands, leaving hand prints on her knees. She drops the knife beside my mangled body unflinching to the sight before her. She doesn't look to me yet, but she speaks to me.
   "If you tell your father about this, you'll be in a lot of trouble." She speaks as if I were a child, slow but menacing.
   Turning slower than humanly possible she locks her blue eyes on mine. The color pops so magnificently with my dark crimson blood smeared across her face, I can't form words. I back impossibly closer to the wall hoping desperately for it to turn to a black hole for me to escape.
It doesn't of course. Mother turns to me with her body now, taking minuscule steps my way, speaking as she goes.
"I always wanted to do that." She laughs, looking to her hands and arms that show no skin, only liquid. She licks her ring finger, slowly sucking my blood from it.
"God. I hated you. Just an annoying reminder of your stupid uncle." She hisses.
I yelp at her words, clenching the fabric of my slip between both hands. Sobs echo throughout the room, mixing with her malevolent laughter.
Please stop... I whine. My breathing is convulsive, hiccuping with cries. Just stop...
"Do as we say Anastasia- or what you just saw..." she stops right in front of my bare feet.
Her body bends so she looks me directly in the eyes. "...won't be your imagination, but your reality."
Mother brings her hand to my cheek, rubbing the wet surface with a small smile. I'm hyperventilating, as I struggle to get away from her. The pale skin I inherited from her begins to go grey. Dark purple veins show through her paper like skin. Her hair turns brittle and straggly.
I can't breath.
She jumps to me screaming in a high pitch call, "DO AS WE SAY!"
I can't breath.
"Anastasia."
"Anastasia!"
My eyes open, but instantly close due to the bright lighting. Chaos goes off around me. What sounds like one hundred feet slam around the small space. Things are beeping. Stuff is being thrown to the ground, or accidentally fall; I can't tell the difference but it's loud.
Too many people talk to understand what is going on. I hear medical stats being shouted from across the room. People talk about the show they missed the night before. Some pray. I hear the praying the loudest.
"We need your healing and your grace. We need hope restored. We need to be reminded that you work on behalf of those you love, constantly, powerfully, completely."
I cough, wheezing for water. My throat feels like the Sahara Desert; my tongue a cheetah's, razor like and dry.
   More chaos explodes. People rush to me, their hands inspecting my body. They open my eyes and shine a bright light in them. I hiss, trying to push the hands away, but I'm weak. So fucking weak.
   "Miss Foy, God has done it again. Welcome back."
   "She's awake? Let me see her!"
   The sweet, motherly voice I've missed calls over everyone. Instantly I relax, my body resting softly in the hard bed.
   And-
I can breath.

Word Count: 2848

chapter ten
playlist:
Kane Strang- My Smile is Extinct
'I said// Kill me now// I want to die// I heard there's a chance at an afterlife// I might not get in// But at least I won't be living'

Arctic Monkeys- Snap Out of It
'Forever isn't for everyone// Is forever for you?// It sounds like settling down or giving up// But it don't sound much like you'

Son Lux- Alternate World
'Alternate world// Alternate age// Alternate Life'

credit:
https://www.crosswalk.com/faith/prayer/prayers/a-prayer-for-personal-healing.html

authors note:
Will pretend I didn't fall off the face of the (round) Earth.
🌚