This Dream is a Killer

resignation to the end

My body was shaking, feeling numb. I slowly looked around, trying to figure out what happened. Why I was sitting on the basement floor. It smelt of smoke still, and my face had the feeling of dried tears. I was tired too, which was strange because my house isn't that far from the hospital.

I looked around for any indicator of what had happened. When i stood up, I noticed my hair wasn't moving with my movements. I felt up, feeling uneven strands brush against my hand.

The room was totally black and red. I took a step and winced in pain when something dug into my foot. My movements were slow and hazy, but I pushed myself up the stairs and to the bathroom. My hair was cut at uneven lengths. Some were at my ear, and some were sitting at my chest, the ends black and singed. Then a few things started coming back to me. There was a fire, that's why I was at the hospital. And Liam...Liam...where was Liam? There was no way he was truly dead.

I'm a few short decisions, I cut off the singed ends of my hair, picked the glass out of my feet, and put on a different outfit. I decided on a black day dress, avoiding everything red as much as humanly possible.

I made my way to the nearest hair dressers, needing to get my hair totally sorted. Cold raindrops were falling down on my And by the time i arrived at the hairdressers, i was soaked. We exchanged a few words and she quickly got me booked in and sat down.

Staring at myself in the mirror was a total mistake. I could only see the sadness and pain. I missed the feeling of spotting the brighter colours; the reds, in particular, and describing them to Liam once I arrived home. Now I was stuck in the greys.

Something seemed to flash in me when I watched a bottle of shampoo dropped down to the floor in the mirror. The shampoo was replaced with the soaps and candles I had for Liam — all of them being thrown at the floor as I screamed for him. The soaps splashed down at my feet, but I couldn't feel the coldness through the adrenaline rushing through my body. I picked a candle up and threw it at the wall, still screaming.

The feeling of someone touching my hair took me some place different. It was my bathroom, this time.

"He wanted to leave because he hated me! He hated my house and my body and my...and my hair..."

I began to cut large chunks of my hair off, pulling so hard some parts were plain ripping out of my head.

That would explain the hair on the floor.

I was satisfied with the turn out of my hair. It was above my shoulders in a short bob, but it would grow out. As I was walking down the same, dull path that I took to get there, I started to truly think about my situation. No money except for what's in my bank account, no family, no one who loves me. I was right back where I started, now financially unstable too this time. Maybe I just wasn't destined for love, but it was something I was willing to do anything to obtain.

I arrived home and stood in the hallway, feeling another memory begin to fade in. I slowly strolled down the hallway, crunching glass beneath my feet from photo frames. I picked one up and my mind showed me what had happened.

I was running downstairs from the bathroom, tears falling at an uncontrollable rate. I was about to run into the basement when my eyes caught sight of a photo. It was my favourite picture of Liam, taken by a Polaroid camera on our first date. I threw it at the wall, then shoved the rest of his pictures onto the floor, and lastly, took the red vase and threw it through the window.

"Why did you do this to me?! You could've been happy with me but now look at what you've done! You did this to me!"

The loud screaming was replaced by the silence I was trapped in, back in reality.