Threads Of Fate

CHAPTER 2: Coneflowers and Violent Purples

Pain.

An unpleasant sensation you feel when there is damage to your body. At least, that's what my AMU told me. But that's not entirely correct. Pain hurts you, yes. It's an unpleasant sensation, yes. But only for the first few years. After a while, you get used to it. It grows on you. After that, you don't really mind it. It becomes your only friend. Your only real friend, ironic as it is.

I know pain. I have a very... intimate relationship with it. I refuse to leave it, and it refuses to leave me. And that's how it's been for as long as I can remember my miserable existence. 

Now, I'm no retard. I'm not crazy. I don't wallow in my self-pity all day, no. I only do it in the mornings when I wake up. And not because I like doing it, or something. There's just nothing I can do about it when I feel like my head's going to split open every morning after I wake up. When it started, I don't know. More accurately, I don't remember. What I do remember is that every night I struggle to fall asleep. And every morning I struggle to stay awake.

Migraines, the AMU concluded. But these only happen right after I wake up. And only after I have that damn dream, although I have it every night. Though a dream might not be the right word for it, I think to myself, as I get up out of bed, wiping fresh tears off my face, to start preparing for the mundane activities that make up the mundane days in my mundane life. Light reflecting off a pretty and shiny necklace blinds me as I cross my pathetic excuse of a bedroom, making my way to the shower. I turn it on, and the water starts spraying down. It's cold. Not that I mind it, I wanted cold water in my shower. Thoughts of the dream come back as water cold enough to freeze your balls off hits me and wakes me up with a jolt.

"Not a dream." That's the thought I keep having. Understandable, considering I've been having the same dream every night for years now. At this point, I don't remember a time I woke up without that dream and that skull-splitting pain. "Not a dream." How could it be? It feels so real, so vivid. I can almost feel the warmth of the evening Sun, the heat of the explosions, the touch of-

"Good morning, patient 131E! Did you sleep well?"

I'm taken out of the painful bliss of trying to remember a faded memory by static, followed by my AMU's droid voice.

"It's 3 a.m., Amy. I told you never to bother me when I'm in the bathroom."

"I will keep that in mind for next time. My apologies."

There's a pause as I get out of the shower to dry myself and start getting dressed. Then the cold, robotic droid voice is heard after the vinyl scratch of the UUCD coming back online.

"How are you feeling right now?"

"Angry that you're still talking." I snap, as i zip up my favorite all-black leather jacket.

"My apologies, but I have to keep on schedule. What are you thinking right now?" It asks.

"Phantom limbs and forgotten dreams. That's what I'm thinking about."

"It seems you are not in an ideal mental state. Please come for a thorough check-up at 1600 hours. Good day, Patient 131E."

"Good day, Amy." I step out of the room, making my way to the kitchen. Which isn't really a kitchen, considering there's only one stove in it. The one I bought. I start preparing the same breakfast I have every day, hard-boiled eggs with bread, as the thoughts of the same dream that plagues me every night creep into my mind. Why does everything always explode? Why do I have it every night? What's that picture and who's on it? And why won't it let me see? My head starts to hurt from all the thoughts swirling and mixing in there, so much so that I leave my perfectly boiled eggs half-eaten. I guess I'll just go work out. As I get up to pick up my UUCD from it's charging dock, I have a speck of optimism. Maybe my day won't go as bad it normally does. A strange feeling washes over me as I reach for the door and open it. "I'll ask Amy about the dreams this time. Maybe I'll get some answers.", I think, as I step out the house and let the door close behind me.