WnW 2.6

“This is the last time. I promise.”

I nodded mutely. Dad carried me to the car and sat me down. The scent had already invaded this space, like it knew where we were going. Sharp, acidic, metallic. It stung my nose and made my stomach twist into a tiny knot.

I could do it. Just one more time. I was brave. I couldn’t look up, I knew what expression Dad had on his face. I would be brave for both of us.

We descended, no longer in the car. Dad was holding my hand in the elevator. A woman in the elevator with us asked me something. I looked up, stopping at her smile, afraid that her eyes would be haunted as well. She asked me if I wanted to be like Dad when I grew up. I did. Didn’t I?

Inside the room with the metal table, Dad gave me a white pill. I put it in my mouth and almost gagged. It was sweet, like candy, but there was a wrongness to it. Something in my body instinctively knew this was rotten.

This is the last time.

Dad took my hand and led me out of the room. I kept my head down as we passed the windows. We arrived at the security checkpoint and Dad released my hand and stepped up to the black box. He had explained it was a scanner, like in sci-fi movies.

The guard held up a hand to stop him. He gave Dad a strained smile. “Uh, I was just notified that the kid needs to go through too.”

The colour left Dad’s face and his expression was tight. “Can you make an exception just this once?” Dad asked. “He’s scared of it.”

The guard gave a pained expression. “Sorry, Kenneth. The employer is cracking down. No more exceptions. My job is at stake,” he said firmly.

There was a moment of tense silence. Then Dad sighed. “Alright, let’s go.” He beckoned for me to join him, then paused before going in. “Ah crap. I forgot to tell the lab techs something. Can you watch him for me? I’ll be right back.”

The guard looked uncomfortable with the responsibility. “Uh, I’m not sure-”

“Oh, never mind. Come with me, Nick.”

Dad reached out and took my hand. I could feel his heartbeat pulsing through it as he squeezed me tightly.

Pure dread sank into my bones. NO. I can’t watch this. Don’t make me do this again.

It felt as though I was halfway roused, aware of what was playing out but helpless to change it. It had already happened, after all. This was a memory. I tried to move, straining to reach out to my child self. I threw myself against the invisible bonds that kept me locked inside my own memories.

I WANT OUT.

The dream cracked, like an egg shell, pieces of the scene falling away to reveal something new. My perspective shifted, I could see myself, holding my dad’s hand, moving back to the room with all the pill bottles. A pane of glass separated me from the nightmare.

I watched my dad open the door to the room. Then time stopped. The people milling around wearing white coats froze mid-stride. The machines stopped whirring and the lights stopped blinking. The last pieces of the egg shell fell away and I was left in the silent room.

A voice spoke behind me, “You need to remember.”

“Why?” I asked bitterly.

“You’re in danger. I can help, but you need to finish the dream.”

The voice was like a song I had forgotten. The words were unfamiliar, but it tugged on my heart all the same. Tears welled up in my eyes. “You don’t understand,” I said. “I can’t finish it.”

“I know it hurts. But you make it out alive right?”

“How can you know that it hurts?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Have you seen what happens in that room?”

The voice stayed silent.

“Have you?” I asked, emotion choking me.

The voice spoke softly, “No. I don’t see what happens in that room.”

“Then you can’t make me finish it.” My chest felt so heavy, like a dense rock was sinking into it, the weight increasing with every second.

“Nick,” the voice pleaded. “I’m doing this to help you. To help us both. You can’t run forever.”

“Oh?” I asked. Something pulled at me, dragging me away from the scene. “I’m pretty sure I can. This is my dream after all.”

I turned to face the mysterious voice. No one else stood in the chamber. I was alone.

“I’ll remember it. Even if you don’t,” the voice said, sounding sad.

The dream melted away and the bonds snapped. I sat up, covered in sweat. It was still dark on the Cathrow homestead. Cool air wafted over to me from the open window. I watched the wind play with the curtains, like a ghost had visited me. 

There was no way I was going back to sleep. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the ache settling in. The throbbing pain grew worse with every moment, concentrating on my right shoulder. I rubbed it and felt something underneath my shirt. My fingers probed underneath and something soft brushed up against them.

I shivered and pulled my shirt neckline to the side. I couldn’t see what it was in the dark, so I got up and went to the bathroom, shutting the door and flicking on the lights. Cautiously, I pulled off my shirt and looked in the mirror. 

My whole body clenched up as I laid eyes on the white flower that sat atop my shoulder. I tried to brush it off, smacking it with my hand. My heart started to beat faster as I leaned in to study it in the mirror. There were tiny roots just below the surface of my skin, looking like veins. The white petals were large and they curled outward in a slight spiral, ending in points that made it look like a star.

I started hastily opening drawers, trying to find some scissors. There wasn’t so much as a nail clipper. I slammed a drawer shut. Shit. What now? Go to the kitchen and steal a knife? Aaron might still be up, talking to whoever that person was.

My eyes roamed the room. I could just yank it out. I touched the green stem and a shiver went through my body. I could feel my fingers touching it. The same as if I had touched any other part of my own body. My breaths were becoming short and shallow and my stomach threatened to give up its contents. 

I met my own eyes in the mirror for the first time in a while. Brown eyes gazed out from under a curtain of messy hair. My nose was red and crooked and my cheeks were covered in dark bruises and swollen cuts. My gaze followed my chin to my neck to my shoulder, settling back on the intruder to my body. I grabbed it firmly. It was slim, like a pinky finger, maybe even skinnier. My other hand curled around the rim of the sink.

I took a deep breath and pulled.

Pain shot up my neck and into my brain. Lights flashed and I felt a response. Emotions that weren’t my own coming from far away, like an echo bouncing back from the end of a cave. My vision distorted and I leaned heavily on the sink. The roots writhed in the corner of my eye. The mirror seemed hazy, my reflection fading away until the glass became transparent. Someone watched from the other side. Their hand was pressed against the glass. Their fingers were slender and their face was a blur and yet a pang of loneliness hit me like a truck. Don’t do this.

My teeth ground together and I pulled the last bit of flower out of me. The mirror snapped back to my reflection. I let out a shuddering sigh and looked down at my clenched fist. The flower was limp, the thin tendrils dripped red with my blood. I dropped it with revulsion into the sink. The house was deathly quiet. As thought there had been a voice constantly talking, just outside of my range of hearing that had just been silenced.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Fuck this. I’m leaving.”