Cahira

Chapter 3 - Fear is not a weakness

Someone is here, in my living room, sitting on the sofa. The person has no visible face, the only visible thing is the mouth. A mouth whose lips are red, red blood. Why? I can't see the eyes but somehow I know they are staring at me. They are staring at me during the whole time, even when the person purposely raises a hand holding something - a cup. Why is he holding a cup? And then I understand what's inside the blood, what's so wrong with the fact that this person is holding a cup - it is blood. Slowly this monster raises the cup until it touches its lips, eyes that I can't see never stop observing me, and drinks.

  I look around me, trying to find the blood's owner. I know that if I find the owner and give the blood back  I can still save the person, I can still bring the person back. And then I find who I am searching for. A small body I can't identify, lying on a poll of blood, dead. But not if I can devolve that blood. I try to move to steal the cup from the monster but I can't, my foot won't move, won't answer to my command.

  And the monster sitting on the sofa gets up, stretching as if nothing was wrong and starts moving to the living room window. But before the monster gets out through the window, it looks at me, smiling to show me the blood staining its teeth.  Just then it gets out, taking the  cup, my last chance of saving the person, with him.

  A chill runs down my spine as I finally realise who is the dead body, sharing the room with me. It's my brother, my little dear brother. Dead. Because I couldn't save him.

  I open my eyes, my breathes coming out heavily. Two weeks. Two damn weeks and I am still not used to the nightmares. Will I ever be? Probably not.

  It's during those little moments right after I wake up, more tired than when I went to sleep, my heart racing and my body trembling with fear that I regret my decision of sending the psychologist away, two days after he appeared. He seemed to not believe me when I told him I was fine, obviously omitting the nightmares, but as I assured him I was not lying and as he understood I was not going to let him help me, he decided it was better if he gave up. Only after telling my aunt to call him if she for some reason thought I was needing help.

  "Darling," my aunt softly calls, without opening the door, "if you want to go to school today you really need to get ready."

  Her voice has the effect no mental word I could tell to myself would have. It makes me get up and start dressing to school. Two weeks at home, doing nothing but think about my family's death is enough. I need a escape from it. And school can be one. During some hours of the day, at least.

  And I miss Oliver. A lot. Emma came every day during the last two weeks, bringing me summaries of the classes, trying to make me laugh and forget everything else for a moment, and hearing me talking about what happened when I felt like talk about it, which rarely happened. But Oliver... Oliver never came, not even once. And never sent even if just one message asking me if I was okay as some other students did. And when I asked Emma, she vaguely referred a football game and then changed the subject. But today I'll have an opportunity to be with him and understand what happened.

     Finally dressed, I glance at myself in the mirror and I am surprised when I notice the emaciated face with dark circles under its eyes that stares back at me. I am terrible and skinnier. I lost some weight during the last days, which is not strange considering I can barely eat. Sighing, I get out of my bedroom, closing the door behind me.

  I eat the cereals my aunt left on the table. Or at least I try. After the third spoon, the only part of the latest nightmare that I can still remember comes to my head. Slowly this monster raises the cup until it touches its lips, eyes that I can't see never stop observing me, and drinks. And that memory prevents me from eating the next spoon. I simply can't. I am already fighting myself to not throw up. One more spoon and I will not be able to do so.