Stillness

Chapter 3

"Ash? Ashley?"

"Linda?"

"I love you."

She was so beautiful. Blonde hair, glistening eyes. She was wearing the magnifying glass necklace, which she loved and Ash was so happy to see her face again. He smiled at the thought of marriage, kids and a dog. She bent over to touch his dark brown hair as he was laying down on bed and her smell took over him.

Linda closed her eyes, looking so serene. Ash wanted to be with her like that, forever. She caressed his face and suddenly, a weird sense of dread made him shiver.

"I'm afraid, Linda." Ash said, with a somber tone.

He reached his right hand to touch her rosy cheek, desiring to feel her warm skin against his fingertips.

"You should be." Her eyes opened and now they were completely white. He couldn't feel her skin against his fingertips because they weren't his, they were metal because his hand was no more. And her skin was now wrinkled and his Linda wasn't Linda anymore. The spawn of the devil tried to choke him, while laughing and Ash pushed her away with his metal hand. She was insistent and tried to claw at him, to take his eyes out. Ash grabbed her face and held her back.

Deadite Linda decided to claw at his neck with her long nails, tearing his skin and he started to sob because he knew he'd have to kill her again. He squeezed her face with his metal hand, slicing her cheeks. She laughed maniacally as she moved her arms, cutting into his face. Ash closed his eyes, tears wetting his pillow. He could hear her skull cracking, he felt the hot blood gushing over his cheeks and mouth and he hated every moment of it. He wanted to get it over with, and he knew it would hurt more if he didn't do it right away. He screamed, crushing her skull with one single movement, her blood covering his entire face and neck, his hair and the white pillow and sheets under him. He cried loudly as his possessed love's lifeless body fell over his chest. He hollered in great pain and agony, wishing again it was him instead.

Ash woke up covered in sweat, breathing hard. He looked up at the ceiling and it was a wooden ceiling, why couldn't he ever leave that damn cabin? But he realized it wasn't the cabin. It was another place. He touched his face, his neck. They were clean, no blood in sight, and he was feeling no pain. He ran his left hand through his partially wet hair and looked at his fingertips. It was all sweat. He sat up and looked around, and the room was empty, except for his chest by the bed and the metal gauntlet over the dresser. He was back at the inn, Cecile's inn.

"Ashley?" A sweet voice asked. She knocked at the door swiftly.

Ash was panting. "Yeah? Cecile?"

"Are you okay? I heard you scream."

It was all a dream, but even in his dreams Ash didn't feel safe. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"I'm okay." He assured, and his weak voice didn't seem believable.

"I brought clean clothes for you." Cecile said.

She pushed the door carefully and looked at him. Ash's face was glistening, his shirt drenched in sweat. He was staring at the ceiling, seemingly drained of all energy. She sighed.

"Put them over the dresser, will ya?" He said, almost whispering.

Cecile complied. "Nightmare?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Cecile could force an answer from him, because the little he told her didn't make any sense, and she was still owed an explanation, since she was hosting a stranger after all. But she didn't. It didn't feel right to.

"Lunch is almost ready." She said softly, and left.

Ash did know he wasn't covered in guts and blood, but he felt filthy anyways with all the sweat and the horrible vision of cracking his lover's skull open, even if in a dream. He got up and filled the bathtub again. He spend what seemed to be an infinite amount of time submerging his head underwater, holding his breath and slowly coming back to surface. He felt like he needed to clean himself up, and it wasn't only because of the sweat. He had this disgusting presence following him, and he knew the Deadite killing took his inner peace away. No matter where he was, the guilt always followed him. There was no quiet time, not even in his sleep.

-

Cecile had a lot to ask but she held back. Instead, she looked curiously at the tall, attractive man she was sharing a meal with. He was wearing a white button shirt, rolled up sleeves and jeans, the clothes that were among the ones she left at his dresser. Ashley. A Deadite killer with a metal hand. The young woman knew she should be away. He didn't seem to want company, so Cecile tried to be as polite as possible, without sounding too cold. He was as defensive and sarcastic as possible, and by his state she encountered him after his nightmare, it was something really serious.

"How did you know I needed stitches?" Ash suddenly broke the silence, which startled Cecile a bit. Fortunately, he didn't look up from his plate.

"Sorry?"

"When I came in." He finally looked at her. "How did you know I needed to be patched up?"

"Well..." She sighed. "You had a huge blood stain on your shirt by the waist. I saw it when you went up the stairs."

"Thanks for that." He said. "You saved my life. I didn't even feel it."

She didn't know if he was warming up to her, being polite, or just admitting to himself that it was a miracle he didn't bleed to death. "You're welcome."

"So..." He looked at her and half smiled. "Any place I could have a beer around here?"

"It's lunchtime, Ash." Cecile couldn't help but smile back. After seeing that smile, it was impossible to say no.

"The earlier, the better."