Dream

Warning: Mentions of intense self loathing, self harm, and suicide that may be triggering for some readers.

***

I'm warm.

The sky in front of me looks endless; pink and gold streaked with orange, like overripe peaches hurled into the blue of forever. I shiver and nestle back as a breeze blows over me. People mill around, speaking in garbled tones I don't care to translate.

You're not weak.

I settle back in my seat, nestled closely to the boy beside me. His arm is draped over me, hesitantly, as if he wants to bring me closer but is unsure. His voice is the only clear sound I hear and it rings in my ears like the comforting rumble of the sea. I know he believes it. It's the kind of person he is. It gives me courage to blink, letting more salty droplets find their way down my cheeks. He's so good. Better than I am. I try to laugh, but the sound is choked and sounds more like a sob.

You've tried. She needs support and that's what you've given her.

But have I? I try to think. Did I really try? Did I really do my best? I frown, but still face the horizon so he can't see. His arm tightens slightly around me, and as I attempt to adjust my position into something more comfortable for both of us, I realize I can't move.

My head whips up, but the beautiful sky, my beautiful moment, is gone and so is he. All I can see is blackness. I struggle but the force around me tightens into a vice like grip I can't shake no matter how hard I try. I want to scream but my voice is gone; my tongue sluggish in my mouth, swollen.

You don't deserve him.

I stop. The pressure around me is still increasing, but the voice, the voice I know I've never heard before but still fills my head with scalding familiarity, continues on. My struggles weaken with every increasingly shallow breath I'm forced to take as I strain to listen.

You're a whore.

I want to yell at the voice, tell it I'm not. I tried. I changed. I changed for him.

You never made the jokes, but do you really believe nobody noticed you got them all? Whore. He's pure. You'll ruin him.

I shudder, and suddenly I'm released into burning brightness. The grip is gone and I stand up cautiously. There's nothing there but white, and a sense of unease settles itself into the pit of my stomach.

My foot is wet. I look down. A puddle of water forms as a trickle of the innocent liquid flows down my leg and I watch, transfixed, as it grows. A river swells and I scream in acute but intense agony as the flow rips at my body mercilessly. My skin itches, burning from the inside out and I clench my hands until blood streams from my palms in endless torrents. The water reaches my mouth and as I choke on my own blood it disappears.

My eyes are clenched tight. I whimper on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. It's seconds, or maybe hours, but eventually I force open my eyes.  I'm...in a tub. My tub. Bare. Exposed. I wrap my arms tighter around my knees, forcing them against my naked chest. Water pours from the showerhead above, and it pounds steadily against my back, drowning out all other sound as I tuck my chin on top of my knees. I close my eyes.

Slut.

My eyes open. Water pours into them.

Slut. Slut. Slut. Slut. Slut. Slut...

The thrum of water is deafening; my head consumed by the repetition of that one word. Then suddenly it's black again and I'm falling.

Let me in!

A voice screams at me from the void.

Let me in! Let me in! Let me in!

I flail helplessly in the darkness, senses utterly devoured by the almost hysterical pleas. I feel like I might explode and so I yell at the voice. I tell it to go away.

And it does.

I'm no longer falling. I open my eyes and find myself balanced in the thick branches of a pine tree. I look at the boughs and wonder at the strange lack of sap, mistified but mostly grateful I won't have to worry about my clothes later. Or my hair. It's then that I look out. I'm high. Really high. But I feel calm. Secure. Below me lies a meadow; a green, grassy expanse speckled with the occasional cluster of wildflowers. A blue sky stretches above it, dotted with cotton-candy clouds that hang in the air in milky wisps.

A high pitched giggle floats up through the air from below me. I look down at the bright brown eyes that gaze up from the lowest limbs of the tree, and can't help but smile back at the toothy, enthusiastic grin the girl beneath me sends back. It's infectious. I watch, still grinning, as the little girl climbs out of the tree to the ground below, and even chuckle a little as she skips away into the field. Her white dress ripples in the wind and her brown curls stream behind her as she titters and laughs heading joyfully into the distance. As I shift my gaze beyond her I suddenly gasp. From my perch I can see that directly in front of her is a cliff.

I try to shout, to warn her, but she's too far away. She can't hear me. And so I climb. I hurtle down the branches trying to reach the bottom as quickly as I can, sparing glances toward the girl as often as I can.

You're too high.

No. I can save her. I finally reach the bottom and run as fast as my legs can carry me, still shouting as loud as I can for her to stop. My eyes trained on her, I watch in horror as her white dress slowly darkens into pitch black. Her body thins, becoming frail, and her hair shortens, hugging her scalp instead of cascading down her back. I slowly find myself gaining on her, and eventually she hears me calling out to her and stops. She turns back and I slow down, nearly to her.

She looks like a different person. Her face is sunken. Thin. Tired. She studies me as I walk closer, narrowing her eyes in confusion.

What?

I tell her about the cliff. That I'm so glad I stopped her. That she's safe now. But then she looks at me. Her eyes...they're empty. Defeated. I ask her if she's okay. She makes eye contact with me and swallows.

I'm sorry.

She takes off in the same direction. Narrow legs pumping as fast as they can. A split second later I follow her, panic filling me and tears spilling down my cheeks as I beg her to stop. To let me help her.

She launches herself over the cliff.

I make it to the edge and fall to my knees, looking down to it's rocky base. Her body is bent. Unnatural. Blood pours from around her head and from lacerations on her wrists. A rope is wrapped around her pale neck. But the worst part is her eyes. They're dull.

You've tried. She needs support and that's what you've given her.

He was wrong. I didn't...I couldn't...I failed. I rock, and scream, and cry. I pull at my hair. I bleed.

Your fault. It's all your fault. You self-centered whore. You didn't let her in. You failed them all.

I sob. I can't breathe. I'm dying. How am I supposed to live?

And then the car hits me.

And I wake up.