Iscariot

I don't like my mind right now.

Curled on her side, Mika woke slowly. She felt heavy and lethargic, weighed down with a pleasant euphoria she recognized. Andrew had surprised her in the middle of the night, as he sometimes did. She'd had trouble waking up for him. Not that that stopped him, she smiled to herself. He was rather determined.

She couldn't before, but she finally managed to get her eyes open now. The light in their bedroom was brighter than she would expect, the day already underway. Andrew was no longer spooning her, his body no longer curled protectively about her. He must have rolled over. She reached back for him. She could sense him pulling away before she could touch him; his weight moved off of the bed. Her fingers brushed between the sheets, the bed still warm. With a hum, she rolled over.

And sat straight up.

The bed was made beside her; the blanket and pillow pristinely placed. The door was closed, the room empty except for her. Mika slid her hand beneath the sheets once more, her heart racing. Cold. She was alone. She fought the sorrow along with the wave of panic gripping her. I felt him! I felt him holding me. She would swear it on a hundred Bibles. We... Her flush was bright.

A dream?! It wouldn't have been the first. She didn't often have such dreams, but the intensity... She couldn't gather enough of the wisps in her mind, the thoughts fleeing with the arrival of her anxiety. She had no room left for them when reality claimed its space. She couldn't remember the dream, only the feeling, only that he was here with her. Mika clenched her eyes shut and pushed back the tears. Even her own body wouldn't let her be. Instead, it was playing these tricks, these games.

Enough is enough. You have to take care of yourself. She made herself get out of bed, made herself look around and gather some clothes, made herself focus on the act of breathing. Just breathe. That is your task for today.

Just keep breathing.

*

Three in, two out.

Mika focused on her breathing as she ran: inhaling for three strides, exhaling for two; three steps in, two steps out. Sweat ran down her back, under the band of her sports bra and soaking into her t-shirt; her shorts were already damp. Her shoes gripped the concrete sidewalk, her legs stretching and propelling her as she approached the second lap of her run. It felt good to be doing something, especially out of the mansion; but as always, the run became automatic and her thoughts started churning.

Andrew was there. I felt him.

Mika couldn't shake it, couldn't let it go. What little of the morning she'd had, she'd spent trying to get back into a semblance of order. Everything took twice as long to do. She was on edge, every little noise making her freeze, every movement in the corner of her eye making her jump.

He couldn't have been there. You don't believe in...What? Ghosts?

You did it, Dr. Anderson. I had to come. It stuck like a pin in her heart. She wished it was real. She wished he was with her. Even the thought of a ghost held some comfort. But ghosts don't exist.

The beeping of a truck backing up alerted her and Mika automatically adjusted her path to the opposite sidewalk to stay out of its way. One of her neighbors from across the street was moving. The movers hauled the boxes out onto the lawn as an empty truck backed up the drive. The new owner watched them from the porch, his arms folded as he waited. She ignored all of their glances as she ran by.

Hallucinations. Mika bit her lip as her emotions ran high again. Damn pills. She'd looked up the warnings and side effects for that particular prescription as she ate lunch. Headaches, nausea, lethargy; who wouldn't have all of those under emotional distress? Nothing said hallucinatory, but it did warn about rare occasions of nightmares and sleepwalking.