Survive the Night

2

"What are we exactly?" Victoria asked.

"You are each equal portions of God," the spiritual Being said.

"But...I don't feel like God."

The Being smiled. "Not alone, you don't," and pushed her back to her bed.

Victoria woke up. Sitting up and sighing, she downed the soda she'd left beside her bed earlier that day. It was past midnight. Caffeine would do nothing to help her restlessness, but right now she could care less, knowing sleep wouldn't come anyway.

She’d had another nightmare. In it, her mother was tucking her into bed like she’d done many times in the past. She had felt her mother's smooth fingers as they touched her ear and the side of her cheek. As her mother was leaving the room, the door clamped shut behind her. In the dark, Victoria could see a strip of yellow light beneath the door’s wooden frame. Her mother's feet silhouetted for an instant before the light shut off into blackness. In the dream, Victoria lay immobile in bed as a chill crept through the thickness of her sheets, making her tremor. At some point, she remembered realizing that it was a dream.

But it was too late. In that instant, Victoria heard it.

The sound of tires sloshing on wet asphalt, a parched scream, and the impacting sound of steel meeting her mother's fragile bones.

As always, she awoke shivering, with her vocal chords releasing an involuntary groan of despair. She rose from bed with her sweaty brown hair plastered against her forehead, and looked out her window. It wasn't raining. That was good. The sound of rain only made it worse. She wanted to leave though. She wanted her mom. Wanted to talk to her again. Victoria could feel her heart burning with longing. She walked over to her study table and grabbed a bouquet of flowers she'd bought earlier in the day.

She left her room, treading slowly downstairs. She knew which steps creaked and which sagged beneath her weight from years of living in this house.

When Victoria reached the first floor, she could already hear the light hum of the television set in the living room. As she suspected, her dad was fast asleep on the couch; his peaceful face dimmed and shone emphatically in the blue hue of the television. When she reached the door, his voice made her wince.

"Where are you going?" he asked groggily.

Victoria turned to face him. "I wanted to see mom."

An uncomfortable silence. He seemed to study the flowers she held. "Now?"

"Yes."

"Baby," he said, raising his head to face her. "It’s late. You should rest. You can see her tomorrow."

She noticed as he spoke that three empty beer bottles lay strewn about the table. Perhaps he too had been incapable of sleep.