Super Lost

'Life's a Gift'

I couldn't feel my arms or legs much less move them while I lay immobile on the floor. My eyes wide open, unable to shut themselves and frantically looking around the room that had no light source to illuminate the thick choking fog that swirled around aimlessly, no air current to take it adrift, yet glowed of bright blue all to dance Its way into my lungs.

Within moments of cognition, hushed distant whispers invaded my ears. No footsteps or any indication of someone coming closer yet louder and louder the speech became. Soon Whispers became talking at a higher tone, words hardly understandable yet the voices were all too familiar. I tried calling out to my father's voice, but my body denied me.

Why couldn't I move? Where was I? Why is He here? All articulations molding together, overlapping one another.

Panic set inasmuch as the incomprehensible words soon became masculine shouting, repeating phrases all too well known to me. My father's words cutting into my ears, promptly I begin to reclaim sensation in my head yet only to be riddled with pain, the pressure building. I try to shout back, move in any way I could but to no avail. My ineffective attempt goes noticed, causing the attacker to soon be divulged from the corner of the dusky room to reveal a set of shadowed pointy black Oxford shoes, clicking the ground with each heavy step. Their upper half just out of sight from my position. His strides didn't miss a beat and continued to grow more vigorous with each slur was spat out.

My lungs straining for air in the process of mentally begged for freedom from this hell. He paused only inches away from my face. One of the sharp dressed shoes drew back quickly, building momentum to strike. Suddenly gaining control to my eyes only to shut them as tight as I could, anticipating the pain. When abruptly, the yelling stopped.

All the pressure and pain in my head faded away. My lungs take in a sharp breath of the now cleared crisp air. Expeditiously my eyes open to see all proof of my father gone, the room still black yet I didn't feel I was alone. Soon afterwards, a soft cool hand gently caresses my cheek, yet no one was visible. Unable to reach out to the presence, an idea made its way into my head of the possible savior. The only word I could speak, I choked out.

"Mom?"

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I'm suddenly jolted awake, quickly sitting up, gripping the sheets beneath me. Adrenaline coursing its way through awakening limbs followed by a piercing headache. The only sound that could be heard was my heavy breathing along with the scraping tree branch that clawed against fogging windows, growing more opaquer in reaction to the room became frigid cold.

"Just a dream..." I groan to myself, wiping the sleep from sore eyes. I removed my shirt in the act of kicking sweat drenched sheets off for the crisp air to assaults my legs. Then, making my way to the window where I reached out to wipe a line of condensation off the glass. Cat must have turned the AC down too low; she did like it cold. Ending up using the line for an eye, adding a second followed by an acute smile. Observing the smiley face, attention following the collected water at the bottom of the eyes bead up, then rolling down to meet the curved mouth. I nod empathetically to the crying face. Me too Mr. window. Me too...

Shrugging away towards the bed for a little help from 'Mr. Sandman'. I crouched down to pull my backpack from underneath the frame, my usual hiding spot. While bringing it towards me I see a stuffed pale-yellow paper envelope drag along the bottom of the bag. Curious I reach for it and upon closer inspection I see my name written in a familiar cursive. Confusion setting in encouraging me to tear it open, spilling the contents to the floor. I cross my legs to get comfortable concurrently shaking the note out following a polyester mask. Picking up the blood-stained article to examine closer, the bottom jaw torn. I felt a somehow familiarity with it. I've seen this mask before, I know I have... I just couldn't place it.