The Quest For Eternal Happiness

Chapter Two

I had been playing hide and seek just two meters away from a dead body. It belonged to a middle aged man, and there were several deep gash wounds across the stomach and one deep cut through the chest. His blood, which had drained out and soaked his clothes, caked over and solidified into flaky chunks of deep brown. His eyes, missing the signature spark of life, were glazed over and looked artificial, almost glassy. A stench surrounded the body, so foul smelling it made you want to hurl. And right above his solid staring eyes, on his mole-covered forehead, was a brand. Seared into the skin using a hot iron, which now left a dark, leathery imprint, were the words:

"GOD DOESN'T LIKE TATTLETALES"

I awoke violently in my bed and clutched my bedsheets. I felt like I was drowning except there was no water in sight. My heart demanded the right to burst out of my chest, and I grabbed at my face as I tried to steady my breathing.

"Goddamnit," I thought to myself, "You again. Wretched thing."

It must have been nine; maybe ten years since that day – that moment of time in the park, a moment I would have forgotten with all our other games of hide and seek if not for that incident. The day that an entire police force was called, statements were made, and my childhood was cut short.

And it continued to bother me in my dreams. I had been on a streak – I hadn't dreamed of that early evening at the playground for almost two years. I had no idea why it came back to me that day.

My hand shook with a quivering sensation as I reached out towards my bedside table, and clawed around for a small orange bottle of fluoxetine. I squeezed and turned the child lock cap off the top and popped a pill, swallowing it dry.

As I ran my hands through my hair, I saw myself in the mirror. Black sweats, black tank top, black hair. I had some muscle because of occasional gym visits, if I didn't I'd be as skinny as a flag pole. My face looked whiter than usual, and I suddenly realized in that moment we were still expecting visitors. I jumped out of bed.

Going past the pile of not dirty/not clean clothes, I opened my closet door and took out a white shirt and a bomber jacket. I put them on over my tank top and headed downstairs. "It's in the past." I told myself. "You can't feel down when we have visitors. Skye, your best pal in the whole wide world, is coming around today. That means cheer up and stop thinking about that dream, idiot!"

"Just switch your thoughts to something else. Turn your brain off." I thought, "Think about something that makes you happy, like that one grilled cheese sandwich you made at Pho's house with wonder bread, or that goth girl in calculus class who always wears fishnets. God, she's hot."

As I raced down the stairs, I heard my mom's voice call out, "Silas?!" "Right here mom." I said as I reached the bottom floor.

"Oh, thank goodness." She said with a sigh of relief. "I was beginning to think you dozed off again."

"Ah, well..." I mean, I did, but was awoken just in time by my lovely little nightmare. Thanks, dead middle-aged man whose name I don't know.

"Anyways, they'll be in here in a few minutes, so help me set the table." She sauntered to the kitchen before turning around and doing a double take of my face.

"Oh honey, you've got some real heavy looking carry-on baggage under your eyes." She said about my gray eye bags.

"Really? I don't plan on traveling any time soon." I joked.

She chortled, "But really, I'll get you some eye drops from the pharmacy, they do wonders sunshine."

"I appreciate it." I didn't know my eye bags were that big of a deal.