Wake Me Up

2. And Then There was Two

Chrissy Cunningham

I used to think that I was the monster... until one day, I looked in the mirror and heard my mother's voice.

"You look big in that dress, honey," she said, just I was starting to enjoy trying on prom dresses.

But she was right.

I did, and it made me hate myself.

So I stripped out of that skintight, aqua dress and bought the yellow one. It flowed away from my hips in ripples of lace, hiding my curves, my body — my biggest insecurities.

But I never got to wear it.

I died a month later, killed by a creature far more sinister and evil than any insult my mother threw my way.

But least she'll never speak to me like that again.

I've been existing here alone ever since....until I saw him.

* * * *

I still can't believe it.

This can't be the real Eddie, can it?

I've seen people here turn into monsters, but never the other way around... because once they've turned... they're gone for good.

I skim my weary gaze over his body, from his face framed with black hair, to his Metallica t-shirt, and those ripped, dark jeans paired with studded converse....yep, looks like him alright.

My chest tightens.

But I need to be absolutely sure. The last thing I want is to experience is dying all over again.

Quickly, I grab the closest thing I can find: a dried up stick, and use it to poke him from a safe distance.

"Hey," I whisper, pressing the stick against his neck. "Wake up. It's me. Chrissy... Eddie? EDDIE!"

His eyes snap open, meeting my gaze with the same terror I felt when I woke up here months ago. He instantly backs alway from me, his body dragging against dirt.

"If this is some sick joke, just kill me already!" he screams, clutching another rock in his shaking hand.

I hold up my palms, instinctively showing him that I'm unarmed.

"It's me!" I insist, my voice wavering  from adrenaline, or hope, and maybe even fear.

Fear of the unknown. Of him. And the last memory of us: my death.

"This is not a joke, I swear!," I continue, taking a small step towards him. "I died, okay? Do you remember that?"

His face darkens, the rock lowering to his side. "I wish I didn't..."

"And you?" I ask quietly, voice cracking.

"Yeah," he sighs, dropping the rock. It thuds loudly in the silence between us. "It's... a long story. But I guess I did die. Didn't I?"