Wake Me If I'm Dreaming (A Collection of Short Stories and Microfiction)

Break Free

    She didn't blink. Not when he made faces, or when he screamed; not when he brought out the joke about the garden gnomes, or the one about the flea circus. His warm chestnut eyes scanned over her deathly pale form, searching for a reaction that never came. A single tear formed at the corner of each eye as a slight frown tugged at his lips. He turned his head away from her and took in their surroundings. It was the typical hospital room: bland, white walls, messy blinds covering the giant window, the sterile smell that makes you think of the doctor's office, and that irritating beeping, only telling you what was already known, she's dying.

    He took in a deep breath and forced himself to gaze over her once more. He struggled to keep calm and continue watching, but he'd never forgive himself if he missed what was to come. Even on the brink of death, she still looked absolutely stunning. Her dark hair sprawled out across her pillow in a tangled and matted mess, he'd remembered brushing out those knots for her once or twice. The monotonous expression upon her face was similar to the one she wore every day over the past four years. And although she hadn't had a nice warm shower in days, her trademark smell was still intoxicating. His hands shook as they inched their way toward the hand laying closest to him. It was cold and somehow paler than it was just a few moments before. His warmer and larger hands tightened around hers, his teeth clenched together, and a small sniffle and hiccup came from his direction.

    His eyes glazed over with tears as the beeping grew faster beside him. Time was running out, and he knew it was now or never. Despite knowing she couldn't hear him, he had to say it anyway. He gulped, wiped his brow, and returned his hand to its place on hers. Her skin grew colder by the second, the fast-paced beeping echoing throughout the room. He briefly wondered where in the world the doctors were, but put that thought aside as he stared at her closed eyes. I wish I could've told you sooner...

    As the beeping continued to speed up, he brushed a few stray hairs away from her face. He heard a few sets of feet running down the hallway and assumed it was the doctors and nurses coming to aid. His hands clasped her hand tighter than before as he leaned in closer to her and whispered something never to be spoken from his lips again. He rose from his seat as the beeping ran flat, the medical staff finally arriving. Nurses pushed his form out the door as only doctors were allowed in at the moment. He shoved his hands in his pockets and left the building in a flash, the crisp fall air nipping at his face. He glanced back at the building, knowing there was no one left in that bland, sterile smelling hospital room. His once warm, chestnut eyes grew a mischievous glint, a malicious smirk dancing across his lips as he thought back to a few minutes ago, the second before her final breath:

    "It's a shame they'll never know I was the one who killed you." A chuckle surfaced as he made his way to the small single family home he shared with his daughter. "And she'll never know either."

—————

    But that was years ago, things were different now. A woman in her early twenties found herself typing away at an old oak desk. The window beside her provided the perfect view of an all too familiar city. Despite the beautiful landscape before her, she had angled her computer to face the opposite direction; motivational quotes and pictures of her alongside a shorter blonde littered the wall she faced. She could hear the birds chirping just a few feet away, but refused to turn around.

    Minutes later, the blonde from the pictures appeared, leaning against her doorway. "Hey, Melody~"

    A sigh. "If this is about our talk from earlier again, I don't want to hear it."

    "But Melody-" the blonde was cut short as Melody spun to face her co-worker.

    "I already told you, I really don't want to go back there."