Die, My Love (Dark Creature)

DML: Chapter Ten: Wake, Child

Thirsty. Itchy, dry, and uncomfortable. Why can’t I swallow? My eyes blink open and I gasp, body rising as if buoyant. Truly, I feel weightless, and yet, heavy at the same time, as if I’m dragging a truckload of mass behind me.

I stand, hair covering my face like a veil, and peak between the strands. Huh. The iron bed frame is broken, buckled in the middle. Did I do that? I glance behind me and remember hitting the wall. There is large dent and circular cracks in the plaster. Hmm. And what of Ben? I brush crumbling candle wax and dirt from my arms, still feeling it reviving and calming energy seep into my pores. Is that why Ben left me there, so it continued to work its healing magic on me?

I have no clothes, and though I’m not cold I’d like to cover up. Standing in the centre of the room awkwardly I chew my lip. I pick up the crumbled fabric close by and shake my head, letting it fall from my fingers. The clothes are ruined.

Lee, it’s not rocket science, just find more clothes.

 I pop my head out into the stairway. “Ben?” I croak into the darkness.

With tentative steps, I make my way down these stairs and come to the main hallway. I slip into the first room I find, and joy, it’s a closet. Here are all Ben’s clothes. So … he hasn’t just turned me and disappeared into the night without a trace. Not that at any point that is what I was thinking, anyway.

I pick up expensive watches and all styles of hat. Try on oversized boots and expensive leather shoes. I put on one of his many trench coats and flash myself in his wall length mirror. Oh, what a silly fool I am. In the end, I grab a simple off white shirt, half button with a granddad collar, a pair of black loose boxers, and a pair of ribbed socks. I roll up my sleeves and find a brush to tug through my hair. Halfway through the bristles tangle at the back. I stop, because, ow, it hurts. How does one get dried candle wax out of their hair? Sigh. I’m dressed a little strangely, but it’s better than naked.

Now to do something about the hollow feeling in my middle, the horrible dry burn in my throat, ah, it’s ghastly!

Outside in the hallway, I stand with one foot rubbing the back of my calf and peer down toward the west, wondering if maybe he’s down there. I don’t want to travel too far from where he left me. I feel sensitive and vulnerable emotionally, and I want to stay somewhere familiar. Should I feel that way? Surely, I should feel strong and without limits, yet, I have this horrible feeling like … this is what I will feel forever now. That all emotion will feel ten times worse and ten times better. “Ah Ben?” I call again into the darkness, but nothing echoes back at me, well, nothing but my own worried voice.

I smell him everywhere, but I can’t hear him, or feel him.

Back up the stairs in my tower, I stand in the darkened room and draw a blank. What now? I touch a candlewick and its cold, the wax hard. I prod the whitened wood in the fireplace. They are stone cold. Thin layers of dust cover everything.

Lee! Stop ignoring it, listen to it … hear it.

Thump. I turn looking for the source. There is no one in this room but me. Is that … is that my heart? Not possible! My heart is still now. Isn’t it? Thump. Thump.

I rub the heel of my hand to my chest, and it slams harder to my breastplate as I panic. Right, okay, I need Ben and I need him now. I get our kind might be somewhat solitary, and desire time alone, but I need to see him, and for him to tell me I’m okay. Did everything work like it should have? My heart is still beats. Why is it beating?  Did something go wrong and Ben couldn’t bear to stay and deal with the disaster?

I’m short of breath. My palms are clammy. Bile rises in my throat. Am I…? Yes, I think I’m having a panic attack. The walls are closing in, there is horrible moisture on my face, and my heart is about ten beats from going splat.