Synonyms for Oasis | original fiction

Ship in a Bottle

It was naive of Roxy to expect that she wouldn't have nightmares, after all of the stresses the day had held for her. It struck in the early hours of the morning, before the sun had risen over the saturated valley.

The dream was all too familiar. It was one in a small menu of night terrors that her mind had decided to log and relive in the hours she was intended to be resting.

The world was dark. She was in the back seat of her ex's car, he was smoking a cigarette outside. When he opened the door, the car filled with the scent of its smoldering ashes and the sharp perfume of cheap booze on the breath of the man who had once brought her a bouquet of flowers to her after splitting her lower lip with his fist.

She had turned towards him, a hopeful smile on her features. His eyes were cold and hard as he moved, fast as a rattlesnake. He struck it from her lips, his hand smacking across her face in a deafening clap that seemed to ring in her ears. She had raised her hand to her cheek then, not entirely surprised. Tears sprung to her eyes.

He did it again. She tried to shield herself, but each time she raised her hands to her face, he would move his hits to another area of her body. He hit again, and again, and again. Until he finally delivered the final blow, a closed-fist to her jaw that snapped her neck to the side and slammed her temple into the seatbelt retractor. Waves of pain sent her into violent shakes.

His phone was pointed at her, the little camera staring into her terrified soul. Was he going to kill her? She tried to push it away, but he only delivered another blow to the side of her head and she slumped back, whimpering.

His hand pulled at her skirt, and all at once she knew it was over.

She opened her mouth to cry out, to protest, but no words came. Rather than her cries of fear, a strange noise left her throat. Like a bell, ringing and chiming.

But it wasn't her voice, and she wasn't in the backseat of David Cambridge's car. She was tangled amongst her sweat-soaked sheets, her phone's alarm pealing from the bedside table. She groaned, her stomach churning greasily. Bile rose in her throat as the dream flashed behind her eyes in all of its vivid clarity. Roxy sat up quickly, scrubbing her trembling hand across her watering eyes. Her pajamas were entirely soaked through, clinging to her body with sweat. Not without disgust, she stripped away her sweatshirt and shorts, tossing them onto the floor and limping towards the bathroom. She needed a shower, and she needed to get away from that dream. As she limped towards the shower she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, haggard and wasted.

Her own haunted reflection gazed back, ringed with plum shadows that pooled beneath her eyes. The despondency in those dull blue irises startled her for a single indignant moment. What had happened to her? She ran her hands through her the limp tangles of honey-blonde hair. A few strands fell across her forehead and on her cheeks; framing her pale, drawn face. She sighed, turning away from her own image and instead turned the shower on and discarded her panties and bra on the floor.

The water was blissfully burning against her skin, washing away the salt and sweat and tears of the night down the drain. She stared at her own feet for a few moments, allowing the steam to overtake her lungs as it filled the small bathroom. The water wasn't just hot, it was blistering. Roxy didn't care-- the pain seemed to be waking her up at least.

She reached for her bottle of shampoo, squeezing a dollop of the flower-scented product into her palm and scrubbing it into her hair.

After it happened, Roxy took lots of long showers. She would scratch at her skin so roughly that it sloughed away and left angry scratches in places, but she didn't feel it. No matter how long or hard she scrubbed, the feeling of pollution coursing through her veins never seemed to wash away.

Pushing the thoughts of the past aside, she ran her hands through her hair again with a shaky sigh. As she showered she made a mental inventory of the food items in her kitchen. There weren't quite enough ingredients in the fridge to scourge up a proper breakfast, she still had to go grocery shopping. Her stomach grumbled, as if in response to the fact.

After another forty minutes, she forced herself to step out of the shower and dry off. She wrapped her hair in a towel before wrapping another around her body and padding into her closet. Rummaging through the few clothes on their hangers, she finally decided on an oversized maroon sweater and a plaid skirt. She pulled on a pair of knee-high socks and brushed her hair before making her way into the kitchen, lingering for a moment by the window and letting the warm morning sun beam down on her pale face.

The clouds and rain of the day previous had moved inland, Roxy supposed, because the sky now was a pure and crystal blue. Not a single cloud smudged the pure cerulean canopy above the valley. Perfect weather for a leisurely walk into town to pick up some groceries, she mused. The errand wasn't particularly appealing, but given the beauty of the morning and the prospect of enjoying the mild weather, she wasn't entirely dreading it either.

Gathering her purse and wallet, Roxy checked the clock on her phone to verify that she would have enough time to shop for groceries and still finish the work she had allotted for the day.

Her steps fell into an even pace as she began her trek up the road. Birdsong and the gentle whisper of pine trees filled the morning air with their melody, and somewhere further off, a sighing tide lapped against the shore. It was perfectly idyllic; an oasis compared to the frenetic city-life that Roxy had left behind. The breeze was sweet, fragrant with the scent of wild jasmine. A moment of childish joy stole over her as she made her way down the road. She was finally free, no longer bound to university or her dead-end job. This place was her fresh start; a blank slate where she could truly begin again. She could succeed here, create a life in this quaint little village. As she made her way through the thicket of woods and beyond the trundle bridge en route to the general store, she couldn't help but relish in her newfound optimism. In the warm light of dawn, Roxy held no premonition of just how soon it would crumble.