If We Could Make it There

Itching and Scratching

Caylie POV

It takes me just under a week to recover from my nightmare. I hide under my covers, escaping the outside world. I cling to my blankets as flashbacks start; the words engraved on the arch, Jack's mangled side at the egde of the path, Alexandra's whimpers as her foot healed, Amalie's door. I think repeatedly of the three cloaked women, and have to constantly remind myself that they'renotreal, they're not here, I won't ever see them. Neighbours and citizens are told that I have the flu, and that it's nothing to worry about. My mother's frightened, she stays with me and brings meals, comforting me, trying to coax my dreams out, but they won't come. My father worriedly has to stay at work. my little sister Mataya peeks through the crack in the door, waiting for the real Caylie, the Caylie empty of with despair, to emerge from her long blackout. But the thing is, I don't know if I will ever fully recover.

When my mother finally convinces me to leave my room, I know that she's been right all along. That room was my prison. escaping there meant escaping the bad memories from it. And although I return to it every night to relive my nightmares, everything's a bit better. With some fresh air in my system, I make my way to the rest of the house, and eventually I go outside. The air out there's good for me.

I rejoin my friends. I feel distant from them, as if things will never be the same between us. But slowly, I entertwine once again with them. I grow back together with Mataya, and we'er closer than ever. As the days turn into weeks, Seth and Grace get closer. She introduces him to us, and to my pleasure and disbelief, we welcome him with open arms. As the weeks turn into months, Jack hangs out with us more. We bump shoulders and for some reason, he keeps me grounded. I feel safer around him. The friendship between the two of us grows.

Marissa slowly gets better. It seems like years, but in a month or so, she's running around again with Mataya and all seems normal. Everything. Except for Ashlyn.

She's more timid than usual, and I find her staring into nothingness sometimes. I know her stare. That's how my aunt looked when she slipped into depression. I think Jack sees it too, and he always tries to cheer her up. She seems her normal happy self sometimes, but others she's distant and her expression is hard to read. But as the months go by, I find myself thinking it's something other than depression. Her eyes focus on a point where I can't see anything, and she squints them as if in deep thought. Somethings up, and I will find out.

Once she's back to herself and whatever's been going on with her is over, she resumes her part in our group. I count down the days until school resumes. Every time I walk past the road leading to the path, I shudder in fear. I go back to my daily schedule. Sometimes I have to grip the hem of my shirt, waiting for the flashbacks to leave me, although I know they'll never truly go away. They'll be here forever, as long as I'm afraid of them. But why wouldn't I be afraid of them? I watched half of my friends get torn apart, and I watched our friendships tear. So basically, what's not to hate?

A year's gone by when the itching starts. First it takes over the corner of my mind, but pretty soon it consumes my whole body and I find myself in many sleepless nights, trying to remember words. Not just any words. The words I'm trying to remember are important, but I can't remember why.

Then one afternoon as I sit with Jack in the school yard, it comes to me. The words over the arch in my nightmare. They said something, something important. Something that no one could figure out. As I desperately try to remember it, my memories of the dream slip closer and closer to me, making me grab the hem of my shirt. When I remember these words, my face goes blank. How could I not remember what was impossible to forget?

"With just one fall, you won't reach your destination; but keep in mind, this is just your imagination."

The words ring in my ears.