Unhinged

11

Oliver

I keep having this dream.  I'm in her house in the living room amongst the blue walls, swallowing me like the ocean. I can't breathe. There's blood on the floor. I look up. There she is, in a lacy pink teddy, her long pink acrylic nails curled around a beating heart. Her lashes bat innocently, a cruel smirk on her face as she bites into it, blood and lipstick smearing around her lips.

I look down, and realize there's a hole in my chest and that heart is mine.

For several nights I've had this dream. She'd let me go after our little escapade, leaning against the doorframe as I fled into the night. She leaned in as I lingered, her fingers on my shirt.

"Will you be back?"

I sigh. Why deny it anymore? It's clear I won't be able to escape her. I'm done running. I nod softly, and cup the back of her neck, leaning my forehead against hers.

"No killing. Just till I come back. Promise?" I whisper.

Maurya looks between my eyes and nods slowly. She cups my face leaning in to kiss me. I feel myself slipping away. All my goals and aspirations are beginning to warp around her. Controlling her mortal urges, satiating her.

"When will you be back," she asks, her dark eyes shimmering. I shake my head, and close my eyes.

"Soon. Very soon, Maurya."

That was five nights ago. I'm plagued with dreams. I think it's her, calling me to her side. I stick my hands in my jacket, as I walk home from work. Slow footsteps begin behind me. I don't slow down, no need to anymore. She's probably been following me for a while, but has finally decided to make herself known.

"I told you I'd be back around soon," I remark, keeping my head down.

"Wasn't soon enough for me," she remarks flippantly, her footsteps catching up with me.

I raise my brows and grunt, looking over at her at last. She peeks into my vision, ducking under the shadow of my hood with a grin.

"Why don't you talk to anyone else, Maurya?" I ask tiredly. The dark circle under my eyes must couple with the exhaustion in my voice. Her brows dip tongue her for a moment.

"It's exhausting. Having to constantly make yourself presentable to the public. What to sound like, what to say, how to say it, what faces to make."

I nod, and push her face a bit. She lets me, her curls framing her face.

"What are you like...autistic?" I ask carefully.

She shrugs, putting her hand in my jacket pocket.  "Dunno. Maybe."

"How don't you know? I imagine someone knows you're...off."

Maurya's steps pause for a moment before shuffling forward, her pink books getting scuffed with every step. So impractical.

"They didn't really know."

So someone did know. A therapist? Doctor? Someone else who can see the real her? See past the plastic Barbie facade?

"I guess I've never been myself. I don't even know who that is. So how could anyone else?" She muses. It's a thoughtful statement with not much emotion in it. As if she's not registering how terribly sad that is.

So I don't tell her. But when she digs her hands deeper in my pocket for warmth, I brush her hand against mine. Her lips quirk up, and I think I've grown my message across.

We keep walking for a few minutes before we stop at my house. I longer by the door. I doing think I want her to come in. She's in my head enough. This is the one space...she hasn't trampled.