Breaking Chains

Hallucinations

Samantha tossed and turned in her bed. It was cold but by now she had adapted to the temperature; that wasn’t why she couldn't’ sleep. Nor was her inability caused by the loud snores, breathing, sleep talking, and occasional scream from her new roommates. It wasn’t because she wasn’t tired either. Despite having been inactive for most of the day her body was tired but her mind rebelled against sleep; it warred with her body and commanded her eyelids to keep open. Scabs and cuts decorated her already scarred arms from her nails digging through the skin but even the pain was starting to lose it’s edge and it took so much effort to inflict it upon herself.

Samantha wanted to sleep. She wanted deep, black, sleep that would drag her down into an ignorant abyss and to wake up clean and refreshed. That wouldn’t happen though. The same thing that always happened would happen. Mr. Thorne would come back. He’d reopen the old wounds and flay her down to shreds and she’d wake up with a sticky film of sweat covering her and her lips bleeding from biting back screams. Sometimes her bed would be wet from soiling it and other she’d be too dehydrated to even do that.

Nothing ever changed. Dr. Call Me Roger wasn’t helping her, it was worse. Now she was remembering things that had been buried under layers of denial and repression. One by one he was unlocking them and dissecting them like Mr. Thorne had dissected her. Only this time there was no woman to save her from her tormenter and there was no way to escape her prison when it was her own skull.

She bit down on the flesh below her thumb and focused on the pain.

“Ouch,” someone commented. Samantha didn’t even have to look to know it was Celia. Who else would be awake in the middle of the night and watching Samantha sleep?

“Go back to bed Celia,” Samantha ordered. Her voice was groggy and laden with exhaustion.

“Not tired. Watching the blizzard.” The raging blizzard outside rattled the windows and promised death for anyone who ventured outside. Samantha was giving serious consideration to taking a midnight stroll outside to either wake herself up or put her to sleep permanently, at this point either one was acceptable. Not that they’d let her outside anyways.

Samantha rolled on her side to face Celia, who was leisurely sitting up in her bed and staring outside at the white world. It was a sight to behold, sheets of ice and snow beating the windows and pummeling the frozen ground, but Samantha wasn’t interested. Her eyes were instead fixed on Celia as she watched in fascination.

“Why do you like the snow so much?” Samantha asked.

“Why does anybody like anything?” Celia asked back. It was a good point. Apparently Celia was in a lucid enough state to make sense at the moment.

“You should get a new favorite, snow is cold and destructive.”

“Is it?” Celia asked, sounding intrigued.

“You don’t know?”  

“I’ve never felt it before,” Celia admitted. “What does it feel like.” Samantha felt the gentle lull of sleep pull at her eyelids. Talking was making her tired but the images of Mr. Thorne weren’t lurking in the darkness anymore, only Celia’s soft curious voice was there.

“It hurts,” Samantha mumbled. “It’s like embers on your skin. So cold it burns.”

“Liar,” Celia accused.

“If you grab a fistful of it then you’ll get burned.” Samantha felt a hand tugging at her bandages but she was already half asleep and too tired to care. She just wanted Celia to keep talking.

“Is it soft?”

“No, it doesn't have much of a texture. Hold it long enough and you won’t feel it at all.” Fingers picked at the bandages and unraveled the white cloth from Samantha's face; she couldn’t even feel it happening. “Where were you yesterday? I was bored without you.”