It takes the better part of the following day before they get me unhooked from all the machines and tubes that have been keeping me alive for the last week. I don't mind the wait, though. All the while, my family and Val are nearby to keep me company through the tests and diagnostics. I hadn't realized how much of an effect my very lucid dream was going to have on me. Despite only being out for a week, I had deeply missed them, feeling their tragic absence in that strange world I had been living in for what felt like an eternity.
As the process nears its end, I'm allowed to change back into some normal clothes, which I eagerly do. I may have been unconscious, but the sensation of nothing but gowns from my time here certainly shows on my body. I wear something long sleeved to hide the shameful sight that mars my arm, then ready myself. My evaluation is only a few minutes away.
My family cleared out to go get food while I'm interviewed, but Valentine has sworn not to leave my side till the doctor arrives. She must be able to tell that I'm nervous.
"Hey..." she nudges, leaning against my shoulder with her arm laced into mine, "Don't look so scared, hun. It's going to be okay."
I purse my lips, "What if they find out I'm insane now or something and I have to be held longer?"
"Pfft. Wes. You're fine. You're clearly all there mentally."
With a smile and narrowed eyes, I take her chin in my hand and say, "I'm not so sure about that one. I somehow forgot I was dating a girl like you. I feel like that alone is a sign I need help."
"That's alright," Val giggles before laying her heavenly lips upon mine. She pulls away with a satisfying release, "I'll just keep reminding you."
It's not long after that when my former therapist arrives. Val wishes me luck with a wink and exits as Dr. Kaphila beams pure zeal my way.
"Hello, Wesly," she coos with a hand to her mouth and watery eyes, "I am so relieved to see you well. When they called me and told me you were awake, I've never been more relieved in my life." Kaphila sits on one side of the bed while I take the other. She reaches over and takes my hand, "How are you feeling, dear?"
"Good." I tell her, "Um, at least I think. My wound doesn't really hurt at all now that they have me unhooked, which is unexpected. I guess I shouldn't complain, though."
Kaphila chuckles, "Yeah, modern medicine has come a long way. And I'm told Dr. Carrow is very good at what he does."
"He must be if I'm sitting here right now." I joke. "I was in bad shape, Doctor..."
Kaphila smiles and nods, "I'm aware. I came to visit you a few times while you were out. There's a reason I got so emotional upon seeing you just now."
I shrink into myself, "I'm sorry to have scared you like that..."
"Wesly, please, you don't need to feel any guilt. What's done is done, and it turned out fine in the end. Let's try not to dwell on it, okay?"
"Um, y-yeah, sure." I try to smile.
"Good. Now...." Arti starts, taking out her notebook, "how are you feeling mentally? Dr. Carrow told me you've been feeling a little disorientated?"
I rub at my arm, "Um, yeah." I tell her, "While I was in my coma, I had this really weird... dream? Hallucination? I'm not exactly sure what to call it, but... it felt incredibly real. I guess it's just been messing with me is all. It feels kind of stupid to say out loud, I guess.
"Well, that's nothing to feel ashamed about, Wesly. There have been plenty of cases if people in comas reporting dreams upon waking up. Many have said the same thing as you. Being in such a prolonged state of unconsciousness can have a very harsh effect on the brain, especially when it isn't receiving any outside stimulus. The only thing for it to work with during that time is whatever is already in there. It's not impossible that it might cause some very lucid dreams."
I purse my lips. What she's saying seems to make sense to someone like me with no knowledge of how psychology works, but I'm still not entirely convinced. Kaphila seems to notice.
"Hmm. How about this? I had some questions I prepared for the evaluation, but this seems to be weighing on you pretty heavy. Why don't we knock out some of the important ones, then you tell me some more details about this dream of yours? We'll work through it, yeah? See if we can't find what was so important about it."
I'm honestly a little more concerned about my cognitive functions now that I think about it, but the prospect of sorting out the dream mess is more immediately appealing to me.
"Sure." I nod, "That sounds good."
Arti and I run through some questions like she said, and they all seem to be what I expected. Things like basic trivia about myself, general cognitive tests, brain teasers and other stuff to make sure my brain is still functioning at its usual rate. To my relief, once we're done, Arti tells me it seems my amnesia was just a momentary lapse, as everything looks to be present. She warns that some information may still be inactive to my brain, and not to be startled if something comes up that seems foreign to me, as my mind will adjust with time. She also asks me some emotional questions that are a less fun to answer. How is my mood on a scale of one to ten? Have I experienced any bouts of uncontrollable sadness or frustration since waking?
Am I still considering self harm?
I must answer everything correctly because no red flags seem to raise, and she simply responds, "Good." To each response as she marks it off her clipboard. I try to sneak a peek at what she's writing a few times, but it all looks like scribbles to me.
After that, true to her word, we begin to run through my dream. The doctor stares and nods along intently, scrawling notes down as I go. She never interrupts, and when I'm finished, she takes a long look over her paper to ponder.
"That is a rather disturbing nightmare to be trapped in. I can understand why it upset you so much."
"It was all just so real. Like, remembering it, I can still feel the physical pain of things that happened. And the grief of losing people; usually when I have dreams like that, it's a relief when I wake up, but..."
"Is there not relief now?"
"There was—I mean, there is. But if I think too long on it, something feels lost... like this emptiness that something is missing."
"What do you think that is?"
With strong hesitation, I caution forward, "I... I guess I feel like maybe I haven't woken up? Like my eyes are going to snap open any minute and I'm going to be back there. Like all of this is the dream."
Kaphila contemplates for a moment while I sit and watch, an aura of nervousness gradually growing. I almost certainly sound insane to her, and that does not bode well for this analysis.
"When we dream," she finally starts, "We tend to dream about things that are often on our minds, or things that are immediately prominent in our lives."
I'm not exactly following her logic, "I don't want to question your knowledge, doctor, but I wasn't really thinking about whatever those... things were a whole lot..."
Arti chuckles, "No, of course not. But rarely are objects so literal in dreams. Sometimes our stresses and fears manifest in other forms, I.E. monsters and demons. You were obviously in a very emotional and heavy place the night of your accident. It's likely that, while slipping into unconsciousness, your brain latched on to the things you were dealing with and ran with them. A dream enhanced by a comatose state built upon negative energy and thoughts. I'd wager that's all it was, Wesly."
"I don't know... I-It's more than that, Arti. I still can't shake this feeling that something is wrong, and every time I trace it back, it ends at this dream."
Kaphila purses her lips then looks down to her notes, "Our last session before your accident, do you recall what we talked about?"
I humor her question, trying hard to recall. The more I dig at it, the more the dense fog clouding my brain clears, and I finally manage an honest nod.
She makes sure that I recall it correctly, "You told me you felt alone. That everyone in your life seemed to be slowly vanishing. Does... that sound a little familiar?"
The pressure on my chest and the tingling in my neck ease off a bit at her gentle words, offering a crutch for my panic to lean on.
"These monsters, the things that constantly plagued you and attacked you; they kept you isolated, yes? Locked up in a compound with nowhere to go? I'm afraid to say that sounds a little familiar too..."
It's becoming clear to me what she's getting at. I nod slowly.
"I'll bet if you trace all of these things back, Wes, there's some sort of explanation for it. It all feels so real because you have such a raw, honest connection to it."
I attentively chew on her words in solemness as, trying to force the pieces she's given me into their proper holes. One in particular just won't fit, however, "What about Leigh and my Mom?" The grief that still lingers in the pit of my gut feels all too real, despite knowing that they're alive. I need to know if Arti has an excuse for that.
She shrugs, "It could mean a lot of things. You've told me before they're some of the closest people in your life to you. Losing them in the dream could have been a manifestation of the fear that they'll vanish too."
"T-Then why would Val not be dead? O-Or my dad?"
"Well, you mentioned that your father always left to work at a dam, right? And that you often felt distant from Valentine? Seems to me it was there, in another form, at least."
I pull my gaze from her. What she's saying makes sense. At least, I think it does... As I reflect again on the details, they all begin to seem less unsettling. I draw lines myself that I hadn't even thought of before, and eventually, the conclusion seems obvious: it was nothing more than a dream. A harmless hallucination of a half dying mind. I was awake now. I was free of it. It's unnecessary for me to stress over something so trivial, especially after surviving almost killing myself. I should be happy to be alive. Happy that I get to correct my terrible mistakes. Happy that I get to see my family and friends again...
And yet...
I can't let it go. Not fully, at least. Part of it is still drilled into my skull, not easily pried free with skepticism. Arti clearly sees it, and so she offers one last thing to try and ease my restlessness.
"Do you know what I think, Wesly?"
"Huh?"
"Remember when we talked about coping mechanisms?"
It takes a moment for the memory to materialize, and I nod.
"I think this might be one of those."
"The dream?"
"No, dear, you clinging so tightly to the idea of it. I think that you've convinced yourself, especially after what's happened, that you don't deserve to be happy. I think you feel you need to punish yourself by dwelling on that awful place for what you think you put your family through, but let me tell you, Wes, you do deserve happiness. You've already been through so, so much... Your family isn't upset, they're happy you're alive. None of them ever left this hospital while you slept because that's how much they care for you." Dr. Kaphila reaches over and takes my hand again, smiling with all sincerity, "This is your second chance, Wes. Don't repeat the patterns that got you here in the first place. That part of you is dead now; leave him behind back in that forest and don't look back. Let's look forward, okay?"
I stare at her, stunned for a moment, half from the bluntness of her words, and half from that still lingering denial. It doesn't take long for the core of what she just said to sink in, though, and it feels warm as it dances around me.
'This is your second chance...You deserve to be happy.'
I decide to take it gently in my scarred hands, and pull it in close, letting it envelop me. It feels odd, foreign almost, to allow myself such confidence, but the sensation is nice, and I truly am ready to move forward.
With the pit in my stomach now filled, and the tingling on my spine snuffed out, I smile, "Okay. I think I can try to do that."
~
The coming months aren't easy as I work on recovering. The physical part is; It only takes a few days after leaving the hospital to get the bandages off and regain full use of the tendons in my hand. When Dr. Carrow peels the cloth away, the scar is a lot less terrible than I expect, too. Just a smooth (albeit, thick) fleshy line running my forearm. The mental part, though? That's a whole other battle.
As much as I want to pretend that waking up from my suicide attempt left me with some divine revelation of joy, it didn't work out that way. The guilt is consuming me alive from what I put my family and friends through, and despite being happy to have lived, surviving didn't completely make all of that previous pain go away. I can still feel that oppressive weight of despondency looming over my head from day to day, striving to keep me in bed and urging me to shut myself away from it all.
Like I said, though, ever since I've been up, I've had my family and Val there to keep me from slipping back into that consuming void. Dad's temper has been nearly non-existent, and his patience is at an all-time high, making him much more of a joy to be around than before. Leigh and I talk more frequently after school and at night when she's not at her friends and Val isn't over. I forgot how much I enjoyed having conversations with my sister. It's something I always took for granted. Now they're a highlight of my day. Mom is always smiles and warmth toward me, although that's not necessarily a new thing. I had just gotten too closed off to let it in. Every time she sees me now, even if I've only left for a few hours, she tells me how much she loves me. And I know she's not just saying it because she's scared I'll try something again; she means it with all of her heart.
Then there's Valentine. I can't get her to leave me alone, and it's the best punishment I can think of. She took an entire week off school once I got out of the hospital just to spend time with me.
"I missed out on a whole week with you already," she told me when I tried to tell her not to, "This is my reimbursement."
She delicately kisses me awake in the morning, and at night, she takes me in her arms and won't let go till dawn. I don't either. I just lay there awake with a content smile locked on my lips, wondering how on earth it is that I could have been so unhappy to leave all of this behind. I try not to do that so much, though. Like I promised to Dr. Kaphila, I was going to try and think less about what happened in the past and look more toward the future. She told me that when we have our sessions again soon, I can get all of those thoughts out with her.
When it comes time for me (and Val) to finally go back to school, it's nowhere near as bad as I was dreading. I thought I was going to have miles of catch up to play, loads of weird and judgmental looks from people I knew, and a healthy dose of anxiety to encroach it all. To my pleasant surprise, though, none of that happens. I don't have any assignments waiting for me with any teachers, and the work I start doing when I return seems to come effortlessly to me. I feel more clear-headed than ever, and all of the formulas, equations and essays flow out of me like they've always been inside my head.
As for the judgmental looks, they're almost non-existent. Many people in the school didn't even hear the gossip about me, and even if they had, they likely wouldn't have known who I was. Those who did, however, didn't act how I expected at all. They were all beyond happy to see me again, giving me pats on the back, hugs, or just coming up to say hi and tell me so. All of that anxiety that I had built inside me from anticipation rapidly fizzled out with each greeting, and one in particular eradicates it entirely.
With the clomp of combat boots and streak of black through the halls, I'm tackled into a tight embrace, "Hey there, stranger." I hear Claireese faintly whisper into my shoulder.
With a laugh, I hold her back and exclaim, "Whoa, a hug from you?" I'm honored to get such a privilege."
She snickers, but doesn't let go, "You're lucky I was so worried about you, otherwise, I'd punch you right now for being a jerk."
I finally initiate the pull away, "What? How am I being a jerk?"
"You go missing for weeks, and you're gonna' sass me for being happy to see you?"
I put my hands up, "Okay, okay, you're right. I'm sorry."
Claire shows my face her palm and turns to feign an exit, "No, it's too late; I get it. You just want me to screw off. I can take a hint."
"Shut up," I chuckle, stepping forward to match her gate as the two of us start off down the hall, "I missed you too, Claire."
The sterile halls and unfamiliar crowds suddenly feel brighter walking it with a friend.
"So, how are you feeling?" She asks before shutting her eyes and shaking her head, "Actually, no. I'm sure you're sick of that question. I can do better. You glad to be back?"
I shrug, "I wasn't really looking forward to it if I'm being honest. I felt pretty dumb about what happened, y'know? But everyone has been super nice about it."
"Neyome, don't feel dumb about what happened. No one thinks anything less of you. We're just glad you're alright."
I nod, then try to change the subject, "How have things been around here? Anything crazy happen while I've been gone?"
"Ha. Yeah. You didn't hear about the gang war over in D hall?"
"Oh?"
"Mhmm. And the chemistry teacher got busted for his meth empire."
"Wow, really? What else?"
"Let's see... Oh! The cheerleaders were embezzling money from school fund. Crazy stuff."
"I'll bet." I chuckle.
She does too. "Nah, nothing has happened. Same ol' boring shit as usual. Now that you're back, though, things'll be more interesting. We'll have to get the gang together and go do something!"
"The gang?"
Claire furrows her brow in confusion, "You, me, Leigh and Valentine? Friends since childhood? 'The gang'?"
The neurons finally fire, "Oh, duh, I didn't remember we all—Sorry; the doctors told me I have some sort of amnesia after waking up. It's got me all out of whack."
"Whoa, shit, really?"
"Yeah. It's nothing major, but some minor details or people have been getting away from me."
"Well, you seem to be doing well with it. You remembered who I was."
"How could I ever forget?" I roll my eyes.
Claire bats her lashes, and clasps her hands before leaning against me, "Awe! I'm so honored to have made the cutoff for your memory."
"Yeah, but I'm running out of storage, I might have to delete you to make room."
She squints, "You could never."
We laugh to ourselves as I give her give her a playful shove off of me. Not wanting our interaction to end, I think of more conversation to press for, "So how have you been personally? How are you and Trent doing?"
Claireese snickers, "Who the hell is Trent?"
"Your... Your boyfriend?"
"Wes, I'm not dating anyone." She chuckles.
This time, instead of firing, the electricity in my brain sputters like a dying fuse. I could have sworn Claireese had a boyfriend, "I-I thought you were? Trent, right? You guys have been dating for a few years?"
Claire pats me on the shoulder, "I haven't dated anyone in a while, guy. And if this is your way of asking, I must say, it needs some work." She teases.
The more I try to mull it over, the more I realize she must be right. There's a vague face to who I'm imagining, but nothing comes in clear enough to be concrete. I'm about to chalk it up to another amnesia effect, but then something else about the situation dawns on me...
'Why is Claireese—'
"Whattup', big bro?" Leigh chants with a huge smile, hooking my arm as she walks by. She bounces to a stop as her momentum drags my gaze from Claire. "How's the first day back going?"
"Oh—um, hey, Leigh. Good, so far."
"Claire?" she checks with a raised brow.
Claireese snorts, "He's had a few malfunctions with me, but he seems to be in working order otherwise."
"Well good. You seem to be almost a celebrity around here now. Everyone is buzzing about you being back."
"Weird thing to celebrate..." I grumble.
Leigh flicks my arm, "C'mon, people are happy to see you! Don't be such a downer about it!"
"He can't help it, Leigh," Claire smirks. She locks her arm into mine from the side, then pulls close and plants a quick kiss on my cheek, "Jaded is part of his charm." She adjusts the strap of her bag then gives us a wave, "It's really good to have you back, Wesly. See you two later; let's get together soon, yeah?"
With that, she turns toward the wing containing her classroom and heads off. Leigh and I keep going toward our own while my brows curve downward in confusion.
"Hey, does Claireese seem... Different to you?"
"Huh? No, why?"
"I don't know I guess I just didn't remember her being so... bubbly? Or touchy?" She seemed almost flirty, and that's something I wasn't super comfortable with. I didn't want to upset Val...
Leigh doesn't seem to see it as a big deal. With rolled eyes, she smirks, "Wes, how many times are you going to make us say it—"
"I know, I know; 'they're happy to see me'."
My sister chuckles as we move along, and then after a while, strikes up a new topic, "How's the school work load been? They give you a lot to catch up on?"
"Nah, most of my teachers waved assignments and told me not to worry about it."
"Dang, that's super lucky!"
I smirk, "It actually gets better. My councilor called me this morning and told me I'm excused from doing my senior project too." Senior project is something my school requires your last year of high school. It's a way to get you looking for careers and getting involved with the field you want to go into. Overall, though, a lot of people view it as a waste of time in an already stressful school year. Getting it waved was huge.
"No way!" Leigh's eyes bulge, "Man, you've got it made!"
"We'll see. The main thing I'm thinking about now is my college applications. With all that time I missed, I'm still waiting on some hidden grading thing to come crashing down on my head."
"You'll be fine. You've always had great grades otherwise. I'm sure MIT will be mailing you back any day now, begging you to come."
I smile and look at my sibling, "Thanks, sis. Although, I'm not going to worry about it too much. Massachusetts is pretty far, and right now, I've got a lot to stay here for."
As we stop outside her classroom, I reach out and ruffle her hair, to which she grimaces before beaming back at me, "I'll see you later, big bro. Text me if you need anything. I'm going to Katie's after school, but do you and Val wanna watch a movie later tonight? We can invite Claire too?"
I nod with a smile, "That sounds nice." I wave to Leigh, then turn to leave, but before I do, I take in my sister's joyful expression one last time. It's nice to see it like that after what feels like so long.
But then, something happens. As Leigh stands before her classroom door, my eyes trace up to take in the background. A large, open set of double doors leading into the choir room. Within, kids are filing into their seats among the raised benches, but an abrupt stab of nausea shifts the scene for a split second. A dark room behind Leigh devoid of people, even darker than the surrounding halls. In front of me, Leigh still stands smiling, but her face is no longer reassuring to look at. Perfect, dark holes stain her skin, violently spewing crimson down her cheeks and neck, staining her clothes.
Then, before I can ever process what I've seen, I'm staring at the normal, brightly lit school halls once more.
I must be visibly shocked by whatever I just witnessed because Leigh tilts her head, "Are you okay?"
The tingle in my spine is back, and it feels as electric as ever. Not wanting to worry my sister, however, I force an uneasy upturn of my lips, "Oh, y-yeah, sorry. I just realized I'm going to be late for class. I'll see you later, okay?"
Leigh nods.
I start down the hallway toward my classroom, trying to shake whatever that strange flash was. Some sort of PTSD from my dream? Was that even possible? My resolution is to ask Dr. Kaphila about it next time that I see her, but in the meantime, I try to push it out of my head. I need to focus on school. I glance up at a nearby clock to check on the factuality of my last statement to Leigh. My head is still swimming a bit, so the numbers seem blurry and jumbled at first, but once they adjust, to my relief, I realize that I still have plenty of time to make it to class.
~
Like Leigh said, she's going to a friends after school, and Valentine has a student council meeting, so that leaves me to walk home alone. I don't mind, however. It's essentially my first time being alone since waking up, and the respite of self-meditation is nice. I stroll through the neighborhood, taking the cool and refreshing pre-winter's air as I walk. Despite the cooler weather, it's still nice and clear today, so a few other people in the area are out and about as well. I wave and smile as I pass, something I might not have done as much before everything. Usually, my eyes would find an excuse to be anywhere else, and my hands would stay firmly in my pockets. But with everything that's happened, I just feel more confident these days. Life is too short to shut the world out like that...
As I arrive home, a smile stretches across my face upon seeing mom on the couch, engrossed in TV and surrounded by scattered papers. She's been working from home ever since my accident, something that she keeps claiming will end soon but never does. It makes me feel bad, but I selfishly admit that it's nice to have her around.
"Oh, hey, honey." She welcomes, "Home already? Wow, time must have gotten away from me."
I cross to the couch with a grin and hug her from behind, "Hi, mom. How's work coming?"
"Good. I just finished, actually. Was getting ready to pack this mess up." She begins sweeping papers into neat piles that she arranges into folders. I step around the sofa to assist. "No Valentine with you, huh?"
"Nah, she has a student council meeting."
"Oh, I see. And Leigh went to her friends, right?"
"Mhmm."
Mom shrugs and puffs her cheeks with air, "Well, your dad is working a little late tonight. I guess that means we're on our own for the evening then. What do you say we head into town really quick and get some Thai?"
"I'd say that sounds pretty good."
"Great! Let me just put this back in the office and change, then we'll head out."
After a few minutes, the two of us are making our way through town and over to a small Thai restaurant. We chat the entire way, catching up on the finer details of our days before taking a seat in the small, local diner.
"I'm very excited," Mom titters while popping open the menu, "I didn't eat much today, and I've been craving some yellow curry."
"I haven't had Thai in so long." I say, "I think the last time we came was for Leigh's birthday, right?"
"Leigh loves her noodles."
I chuckle, then pour over the entrées till I decide. When I'm done, I find mom staring at me, her head resting on her knuckles.
"I'm so glad you're here, honey."
With a full heart, I can't help but snicker, "I appreciate it, mom, but you don't have to keep telling me that. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."
"I know, but... I still just want you to know. I feel like I never told you that enough before..."
"Yes you did, Mom. You always made me feel loved."
"Has it been easier these past few weeks? You know, compared to..."
I nod, "Yeah. Yeah, it has. It was still hard at first as I adjusted but honestly... The more time passes, the more I can't even remember why I was so distraught to begin with. You've all given me so much and—You gave me so much. I don't know how I ever got as low as I did."
"Well, I hope it never happens again." Mom coos. Her hand drifts across the table to rest on my wrist, "We're going to make sure that it doesn't. All of us."
With a smile on my face, I meet her gaze and stare back into her eyes. The gesture is genuine, but admittedly, there's been a growing anxiety within me, given everything that's going on. I'm certain that I do a good job of hiding it, but somehow, mom still seems to sense it in me. Mother's intuition, I suppose.
"What? What is it?" She asks.
I don't even bother trying to protest. If she was able to gather that something was wrong based on my joyful expression alone, there's no way I can hide anything from her, "N-Nothing, everything is great I just..."
"You just what?"
I sigh, "I'm not sure, Mom. I guess I'm just worried. Everything has been so perfect these past few weeks, and it's been really uplifting to my health."
"And that's a bad thing?" Mom teases.
"No." I laugh softly, "But I'm just worried about what's going to happen when things aren't again. Yeah, everything is lovely now, but we're in, like, the 'honeymoon' phase of all this. I think everything seems so bright because I have a new set of eyes to look at it with. But when that all dies down and goes back to normal, I don't want to fall back into that same hole I came from. I don't want to let you all down."
Mom lovingly scoffs and closes her eyes, her lips gently curved upward, "Wesly, you would never let us down, and things won't change. It's not just you that's seeing things differently. We all got a new view on this. We didn't realize what you were dealing with at the time, but now that we do, we know how to help. How to be there for you. That concept isn't going to just fade with time. Not when the price for forgetting is you."
I shyly skirt my gaze, the pressure of attention prodding at me. I look down at the faded scar on my arm and brush my fingers over it. Hardly a tingle in any nerve.
"Thanks mom." I smile, "I love you."
"I love you too, honey."
I look back up at her to reassure her I'm alright, but when I do, something happens that jolts me to my core. Her expression isn't gentle and loving anymore. It's starkly concerned and almost fearful. The surrounding restaurant has become astonishingly dark, nearly pitch black, and before me, I see my mother's figure begin slowly drawing back into it.
No, wait, she's not moving... her skin is dissolving.
Around the edges, I see her skin steadily melting away and dissolving into the void. Before I can even react to anything I'm seeing, my mom surprises me by lunging forward and grabbing my arm again like a vice clamping down on steel. Her face remains fearful, but she speaks sternly.
"Wesly, look around you. This isn't perfect."
My vision is momentarily overtaken by a red shutter, and in an instant, the room returns to its original condition. Mom sits across from me, smiling, her hand tenderly resting on my own. The lights have returned and the radio at the back of the restaurant is melodiously humming out a muffled tune. I don't even try to hide my shock, which mom cocks her head at.
"Wesly? What's wrong now?"
"N-Nothing." I gasp out softly.
"Hello! Welcome in!" the server next to us erupts into her routine, making me jump, "What can I get started for you two?"
Mom greets her with a smile and begins listing off her order, but I just keep staring at her across the table. That wasn't déjà vu or some sort of PTSD from a dream. That was a full-blown hallucination. But with the feeling at the back of my neck stronger than ever before, I can't help but think that it's something much, much worse.
~
"Hallucinations, huh?" Dr. Kaphila asks. She bounces the tip of her pen against her mouth, deep in thought, "That is an odd symptom to have, but it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility."
I reject her input, "No, doctor, this didn't feel like a hallucination. I felt this. Literally, my mom grabbed my arm and then—I don't know how to describe it, I just—I know there's something wrong. My gut keeps telling me that."
"Wesly, dear, that's what hallucinations are. They can be very vivid. I wouldn't be too concerned about it."
Something about her answer bothers me. It doesn't feel like something a therapist should be saying. Just dismissing such an important occurrence.
"What about the physical aspect, then? How come I felt so sick after? Why has my spine not stopped tingling since I woke up?"
"As I said, these visions can be very lucid. Something that's directly linked to your brain like that is bound to affect your body.
There was that word again. Lucid. Something about it struck a chord in me every time I'd heard it since I woke up. Why was it so important to me?
"I... I'm sorry, Dr. Kaphila, but I feel like it has to be more than that. This isn't the first time it's happened—with my sister that same day, too."
Seeing how visibly upset I am, Kaphila stares at me and seems to reanalyze something in her head. After a moment, she returns with a conclusion, "You know, perhaps you're correct. This all does seem a little extreme for how well your mental state has been otherwise. I think we should contact Dr. Carrow again. I was told that your circulatory system had ceased to function for a bit when you fell unconscious. It's possible that, due to this, part of your brain was starved of oxygen and was slightly damaged. Maybe that could be the cause of all of this?" Almost like she knows how scary that sounds, she adds, "But don't worry. If you're functioning at this high of a level after recovery, I'm certain it's something that they'll be able to address easily."
Her explanation might make some sense, but it's too late in my eyes. It rubs me the wrong way that she was pushing so hard for me not to worry, then turned on a dime to change the story when I wasn't buying it. Either Arti is not the therapist I thought she was, or something is being hidden from me.
Regardless, I go along with it and nod my head. It seems I'm going to have to dig more on my own. Dr. Kaphila and I carry on through the session for the rest of our time, but I'm only half present. The other half is glaring at the clock, waiting impatiently for the moment that I can get out of here. The interesting part is that every time my eyes make a run for the circle on the wall, the numbers seem blurry and jumbled for a few seconds before finally coming into view.
~
The vision of my mother was mistaken. Everything is perfect. Too perfect, in fact.
It starts with me noticing the big things at first. School is a breeze to get through, and I never have any trouble getting work done at all, even if I put it off till the last second. A few weeks go by, and my college acceptance letters come in. To my astonishment, I've miraculously been accepted into every single one I've applied for.
Things with Valentine are flawless. The two of us never fight, and no matter how much time she spends with me, it's never enough. She's always down for more. She unfailingly says the exact things that I want her to say does the precise thing that I hope she'll do in any instance. The same goes for all of my friends and family. When I want them there, they're there, but when I want to be alone, they all suddenly have things to do. The conditions are always perfect for me. The weather is just how I like it. The stars are unbelievably clear. The rain will come down but never seems to get me so wet that I'm uncomfortable.
All of this, I might pass off as just happenstance. The product of me having a new view on life, and all of my family understanding me better after what happened. But then, I notice the small stuff too. The impossibly perfect things that are never so easy.
Any meal that I have tastes the exact way that I hope it will. Perfectly delicious. Every time I wake up, no matter how much sleep I got, I always feel rested. The shower water is always the right temperature, money always seems to find its way to me even though I haven't been working, hell, even my hands are perfect. I haven't had a single hangnail or flayed skin since I woke up. Any time I manage to hurt myself, the pain is merely an inconvenience that lasts only half the time it should. Anything, and I mean anything, that I think about or desire will somehow find a way to manifest itself in my life within a week or two.
It's all. Too. Perfect.
And somehow, by that quality, it makes everything all wrong.
The last month went from being the perfect existence one could hope for post suicide attempt, to me being a paranoid mess scrambling to figure out what's going on. Everyone around me can somehow sense it. They all tell me not to worry, and cram more gifts and affection my way in an attempt to subdue me, so I start to play along the best I can. I let them do their thing, and worryingly, I still enjoy it. Being around my family is lovely; I can't recall a time when we've ever been so complete. We laugh, we talk, we take trips out and genuinely have a good time, never fighting or getting upset. Dad, especially, has come so far. He seems almost like a different person.
Some days, when Val slips herself on to my lap and begins showering me with relentless, divine love, I consider giving up the chase. Her lips melt the resistance out of my mind, and her scent drowns out my worry. The feeling of her skin against my own is a silky blanket I want to wrap myself in and never leave, and those perfect, dazzling, gem-like eyes hypnotize me till' they're all I can think about.
Still, every time I come too close to believing that maybe this whole thing is right and I'm looking too hard into it, that nagging, stinging tingle creeps up and clutches the back of my mind in a vice grip.
'Keep searching.' It tells me. 'Something is wrong.'
And just like that, I'm back to it. Every day I look for cracks and flaws in this façade my life has become. No matter how I search, though, I can't seem to put together what's happening. There's some strange damper in my brain, numbing my thoughts to contrast the sting in my back, preventing me from reaching certain conclusions. Whenever I find myself trying to fight it, and almost succeeding, something gets thrown my way to distract me. If a revelation is about to reveal itself, someone will barge into the room and start talking to me. A wild event will unexpectedly transpire that requires my immediate attention. No matter how I try to push through, I always fail, then promptly forget what I was thinking about.
Eventually, the cycle starts to wear me out, and it gets harder and harder to pretend for everyone.
"You good, Neyome?" Claireese asks me on the way home one day.
"Yeah. Fine." I tell her plainly. I feel wrong being so blunt to people like this, but now that I've noticed how they treat me, most talks feel more like I'm speaking into a reflection chamber than having an actual conversation.
"So, you figure out where you wanna go yet?"
"What do you mean?"
"For college? We've only got a few months left to decide."
I shake my head, "Nah. Really, the only place I'd want to go is MIT, but that's all the way in Massachusetts. I don't know if I want to leave everyone like that." I tell her, testing her response.
"Well, don't let us stop you, Wes, if that's what you wanna do, then go for it. Although, I can't pretend we wouldn't all miss you."
The answer I expect from her. Perfectly neutral. Allows me to choose whatever I want. It may seem like a normal response, but when that's how everyone around you has been talking for the last two months, it becomes abnormal. It's hammered home by what she says next.
"You know, a lot of colleges have online programs, too. You could probably get your degree from there and stay living over here."
Wow. The perfect solution to a very difficult decision. I can't wait to see if the opportunity for that exact thing shows up soon.
"That'd be nice." I sigh, "What about you?" I ask, half-heartedly playing my part in the show I've found myself in.
"Oh, I'm not sure. Might just take a gap year and figure it out later, y'know? Work and save up some money."
A bout of déjà vu hits me, a feeling I've been getting used to, but this time, something is different. I realize something that had been bothering me with Claire since I woke up, but I couldn't place my finger on it. Now it strikes me immediately, snapping me in the face like a pulled back branch that was waiting to be released.
"Claire... aren't you a year ahead of us?"
"Yeah why?" She snickers, not realizing what she's done by answering.
"Why are you still in high school with us, then?"
I can feel by the way the tingle in my neck shivers that I've broken something. Some sort of seal or illusion. The detail was minuscule. Such an insignificant matter that could have been effortlessly lied about. But for once since I've woken up, somebody just admitted to one of my 'false memories' being correct.
But if that was the case, then what did that make Claireese?
She instantly tries to backpedal, "O-Oh, well, I got held back a year, remember?"
With the dam let loose, I don't buy it, "No... No, I know for a fact you were a year ahead of us." I accuse, stopping in my tracks and pointing at her. Suddenly, that single thought that was holding up so many ideas crumbles away, and revelations cascade out like an avalanche, "I-I know that's the case because that was a huge impact on my life."
Claireese raises her hands and steps closer, "Whoa, Wes, calm down. Is this another one of your amnesia episodes again?"
I feel the brain fog start to encroach and smoother my resistance, but I push past it, "No, Claire, you were a year ahead of us because once you hit high school, that's when our group fell apart."
"What are you talking about? Like with Leigh and Val?" She nervously laughs, "We haven't fallen apart Wes, we just hung out the other day."
"No, that's not what I—I mean back before! Before I woke up we were... This isn't how this all happened..."
Claire steps closer again and grabs me, "Wes, I don't know what you're talking about—just calm down; you're scaring me."
I yank my arm from her and back way, "Stop! Stop trying to confuse me, y-you've all been doing that since I woke up. I know that something is off." Finally, my brain puts the pieces together, and my body goes numb. "T-This isn't the first time that I've woken up."
"Wes. please. slow down. You're not making any sense."
The inconsistent details. Everything going exactly how I want. I think back on all the information Carrow and Kaphila have been feeding me. None of it even makes any sense. It's all things that I would say to rationalize something to myself with a mind that knows nothing about medicine or psychology. The clock faces and writing that are blurry every time I look at them, the fuzzy, sluggish feeling in my brain. I try to recall any sort of details between the gaps in days but it's all blank, as if I just jumped from moment to moment to reach where I'm standing. All of it was symptomatic of...
"T-The dream from my coma... It wasn't a... This. This is the dream."
I glare at Claireese, or at least my manifestation of her. She looks utterly bewildered and terrified, and I almost feel bad for her. She isn't real, though, and I need to get out of here. Without another word, I turn and take off down the street, Claireese calling after me the whole way.
The front door of my house practically flies off its hinges as I shove it open. I need to wake myself up. Whatever this is, I need to wake up. Where was I before this? What was I even doing? I can't remember. Only bits and pieces come to mind, the majority of my memory reduced to hazy clouds after all of my time in this mind-numbing place. I remember the world being dark. I remember strange creatures. That's about it, though. That is until...
"Goodness, honey, is everything okay?" My mom peers around the corner from the kitchen, hearing my assault on the door.
I stare at her, and now, with clear eyes, I remember. She was gone. Her and Leigh. Both of them were dead in what I was told was a dream. At the realization, I can't bring myself to say anything to her as I turn and sprint upstairs.
I shut my bedroom door and lock it, then pace back and forth like a horse. How do you wake yourself up when you're in a dream? I had no idea.
'Think, Wes. We used to dream all the time.'
That's right. I did. I actually tried to get dreams like this often. Lucid dreams. That's how I knew what to look for with the jumbled clocks and writing.
A knock on my door makes me jump, "Wes?" My mother beckons, "What's wrong dear? You seem shaken."
I shut my eyes to tune her out and focus. How did I usually wake up? It would just happen, right? My alarm would go off and rip me out of whatever world I had been occupying. So that's all I needed to do. Just wait. Just stay here for a little while longer, and my alarm would eventually wake me. As I dwell on the idea, however, I swiftly toss it back out. The nagging in my spine is giving me the impression that this is something else. Something more serious.
"Wes, sweetie, I'm worried about you. Can you please open up?"
I clamp my hands to my ears now. I need to tune her out. Not only is she distracting my thoughts, but I don't want to listen to this pale imitation of a ghost that I convinced myself to love for the last few months.
At the thought, I feel something inside me I haven't been able to fully feel since I 'came to' back in the hospital. Dread. Despair. Negative emotion so strong that I feel the sharp unease rattle the world around me.
That was it. I needed something horrific. Something that haunted me so fiercely it could jolt me awake. I needed to turn the dream into a nightmare.
Whatever was keeping me held here wasn't letting me go without a battle, though. Given how hard it was fighting, it was clear that whatever state of mind I was in wanted to hold tight to this perfect fantasy, throwing every distraction at me to keep me from the truth. I knew there were remnants, though. I had seen them a few times since I had woken up. All the déjà vu, the flash with mom back at the restaurant, the vision in front of the choir room. I latch on to that last one. Even with the memory of Leigh suppressed, the sight of her bloodied and peppered with holes made me shiver, and more importantly, it would be an easy one to revisit.
"Wes, open the door." My mom barks much more aggressively, almost like the dream senses my new intentions.
I obey, but not for her sake. I forcefully throw open the door and try to blow past her, almost tripping as I hook it around the corner and down the steps. With my brain in hyper focus, the sensation causes a memory to emerge.
A young boy accidentally being pushed down the stairs by his father. The confusion and fear on the tumble down. The blurry vision once he hit the floor. The tears he fought back when he saw the blood rushing from his head.
'That's not dad anymore, though.' My hazy thoughts argue, clinging to this version of him, 'He's changed now...'
I resist their call and pick myself up. Mom swiftly appears at the top of the stairs.
"Wes, honey, calm down! What's gotten into you?"
Ignoring her once more, I turn to the front door and jump through it, taking off down the street. I pass Claireese again coming toward me, trying to intercept, but I rush past her and carry forward. My legs move like pistons in an engine as the school grows bigger on the horizon. Once I reach its front doors, I yank hard on them, only for my heart to sink. They're locked. With what time it is, the building should be open due to after-school activities, but as if knowing my next move, a barrier has been placed in my way. I start around the perimeter, trying every entrance in all to the same effect.
'Screw it.'
I look around for a rock to smash a window. Big surprise, there just so happens to be none in the vicinity. Instead, I unfasten my belt and fiddle it off before taking its end in my hand and smashing the buckle hard against the glass of a nearby classroom. The blow hits hard and violent, shooting a sharp crack! through the air. To my shock, the glass doesn't even have a scratch on it.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
I try again and again, knowing how insane I look to anyone watching. I force myself to not let the feeling get to me, though. After all, none of this is real. As if on cue, though, I hear a voice call out of nowhere.
"Wes?" Valentine pleads in a voice that's half worry, half surprise, "Wes wha—what the hell is going on?"
I turn sharply toward her, and against every bone in my body urging me not to, I raise my belt buckle over my head, "Stay back!" I tell her, "Just... back off, Val."
She raises her hands and takes a safe step away from me. Even if it's all an elaborate show, the sight of her eyes flooding with fear makes my heart crack down the middle, "W-Whoa, baby, just calm down..."
"Stop! Stop telling me to calm down!"
"O-Okay, I-I'm sorry..."
'Wes, stop it! You're acting like a maniac! Can't you see you're scaring her?'
'It's not really her.'
"How did you find me?" I accuse, "Weird that you show up suddenly while I'm trying to get in here, huh?"
Val shakes her head, "No, Wes, I heard yelling from your house next door—Claire also came running by with your mom, they said that you were hysterical; that something was wrong, so I—"
"So the first place you check is the school?"
"It's the only place nearby I thought you'd go!"
The way her voice cracks as she tears up makes me lower my belt and almost step forward to comfort her. I resist the urge, though.
"Can you please tell me what's going on?" She sniffles, "I'm worried about you... We're worried about you."
I take in the beautiful girl before me who's holding herself and quivering. The wonderful person I've had the pleasure of calling mine the last couple months. As I trace her face and take in every perfect feature, a sobering realization sets in. Where I come from, she isn't mine. Val is just my friend. Shame and self-disgust wriggle and writhe into my nerves. How could I have ever let myself entertain the idea?
I snicker and shake my head, "No, Val... You're not..."
"What are you talking about, Wes?" she says, almost offended, "Of course we care; how could you even say that—"
"Because this isn't real, Val!"
She flinches, then stares at me, stunned. I can see her open her mouth to speak, but the manifestation almost seems stunned to hear me say my conclusion out loud.
"This—All of this," I gesture around, "This isn't how it all went. It didn't happen this way."
"What do you mean? What didn't happen this way?
"I don't know—just... everything! Me waking up, and everything after. It wasn't like this." I stare at her, hoping for some sort of reaction to justify what I'm saying, but the echo of my friend just stares blankly. All at once, my brain fog seems to lift, and I grit my teeth in pain before looking away.
"Things weren't just easy after I woke up, Val; all my problems didn't just go away. I had hurt everyone so. Fucking. Bad. My Dad was a wreck with guilt while I was out. He didn't eat the whole time and would barely talk at all. My mom was inconsolable and never left my side. Both of them missed so much work and had to pay so much money for my hospital bills; I don't know how we didn't go broke. Leigh, she shut down. She thought if I died, it would be her fault because she didn't get to me in time. Her older brother, the one who was supposed to look out for her and be there for her just tried to leave her all alone. After it was all over, we weren't just a big happy family again. A few months later, it was back to our twisted sense of normal."
"Wes—"
"And all of this 'everyone missed me' bullshit? Hardly anyone at school even knew me, Val. I never made an effort to. The few people that did definitely didn't come up and pat me on the back for being alive. They were either hurt or pissed off that I would ever try something like that. I felt awful when I got back. My grades slipped; my relationships were strained—I just felt so stupid. None of it was worth it. Even with how shitty everything was, I was so much better off before, and all I did was make my life and everyone else's around me worse. It wasn't this happy ending movie montage that I've been living for two months. I didn't get to be miraculously happy. I didn't get to just move on. I didn't get to have everyone love me and I definitely didn't get the girl in the end." My voice falters a bit, "She... she didn't even notice I was gone."
I drop my head to look at my arm, and the old habit of running my nails over the raw flesh eats back into my brain. The numbness of the wound makes a spark of frustration ignite in me.
"Even this stupid—fucking scar isn't right!"
At that last outburst, Val finally reacts, "Wesly...listen to me..." she gently murmurs, taking a step closer.
I snap back to my senses and before she can draw to near, raise the belt back above my head. The girl calls my bluff, coming close and reaching a hand up to meet one of mine that's tightly gripping the leather. Impossibly warm and divinely tender, she guides them down in front of us.
"I don't know where you got this idea from, and why it came so sudden," she mutters, her eyes starting their mesmerizing magic on me, "But look around you, Wesly... This can't all be fake." She looks down and stamps her foot lightly, "Feel that? That ground beneath you? You're here. Right now." Her hand slips from mine to travel up my arms, sending ripples of chills across my skin, "You feel that? That touch? That is real, Wes. I am real, and I love you so. So much..."
Tears fall from her eyes as she smiles and lets her hands wander further. They delicately move up, one stopping to tenderly caress my cheek, and the other to softly slip around my neck.
"The day I almost lost you was the scariest day of my life." I know this has all been hard for you, and I know mentally you're going through a lot, but please... Don't let me lose you again to whatever this is..."
Maybe she's right. Maybe I am having some sort of mental breakdown over stress or guilt or something or another. Perhaps I am truly crazy, and this was all just one big paranoia episode. Val's eyes tell me it is. Her touch begs me to let it all go.
'If this was a dream, wouldn't we have woken up by now?'
It's all so lucid. So palpable. So real. I'm about to agree. I'm about to apologize for scaring her and acting like a maniac, then head home with her. It seems like the right thing to do after seeing how much she means it. How serious she is. I move my hand up to caress her cheek back, gripping her waist close with my other. The words are ready to fall from my mouth when my eyes draw to the hand holding her cheek. They trace the limb down to the barely noticeable scar that rests there, mocking me. Mocking the truth. With a heavy heart, I sigh.
I want to kiss Val one more time. My lips beg for hers, and my body longs for the sensation of her own pressed against it as I hold her tightly. I want to hold her for a few moments longer and just take in her scent, knowing that this may be the last chance I ever get to do it in this context. I can't though. This person is not Val, and it would be wrong to pretend otherwise. Besides. The scar on my arm gives me an idea.
Effortless as rain, the worlds trickle from my lips, "I love you too, Valentine."
I release her, then dead sprint toward the tree line past the fields. I hear Val scream after me, but I don't let my emotions slow me down this time.
This part of the woods is less familiar to me, even less so since its cobbled together out of my brain's idea of what a forest should look like. Still, eventually I find it, heading back toward my house. A small walking path that leads deep into the forest from our neighborhood. I know a place that I can't be locked out of. The same place that got me here.
Down the path I run, relieved that I'm not being followed by anyone this time. When I get to the tree with the hollow at its base, I take a left off into the brush and keep going. There's no visible trail, but I have the route memorized by heart.
I keep going until I step into the clearing. A small, open area devoid of trees save for one that's long fallen laying in the center. As kids, Leigh, Val, Claireese and I would sometimes run out here and play on the old log. It served as many settings. A rickety boat. A spaceship. A deep sea submarine. It could be seen as a selfish choice on my part. Had I not made it, my friends hearing that I took my own life in one of our favorite childhood spots would have only added to the guilt they felt. However, I could only think of this place in that moment. Isolated and peaceful... I look across the clearing to the tallest pine tree in the ring and step forward. I immediately feel the tingling in my neck subside, and the sky begins to gently sprinkle.
I had planned to lean up against the log that day, the old nostalgic wood being a last comfort of sorts in my last moments. I couldn't bring myself to, though. Desecrating such a happy monument was not my intention. Instead, the tall pine behind it beckoned me to its base. It was the only thing that stuck out to my numb mind. I trace the same path that I had so long ago; a handful of steps around the log and to the tree. I reach out and caress my fingers delicately over the bark before looking down at the pocket of roots at the base.
"Wes?" I hear a small voice say from behind.
I turn to see Leigh at the clearing's entrance. She wears an expression of grief and nervously holds her stomach. I hadn't even heard her approach, but something's telling me that the dream knows its charade is up, and it's stopped caring about the finer details. Still, it tries to play its part.
"This is where I found you..." Leigh states somberly, "Right where you're standing..." like a scared fawn, she takes a few shaky steps closer, "I-I had never been so relieved when I found you there. It had been so long after you called; I thought for sure I was going to be too late."
She keeps coming closer as she continues, but I don't bother backing away. I know there's nothing she can do now.
"Every day in the hospital that you didn't wake up, I got more and more scared. I didn't know if you were ever going to. But then you did and..." she wipes her eyes, "I got my brother back. I thought I had lost you."
I smile at her, emotion swelling my throat, but not allowing tears. Painfully, I shake my head, "You didn't find me, Leigh..."
She stares with a hurt expression, and I can see her trying to formulate an excuse for what I just said. I continue before she can respond.
"I was so sure that day. I don't know how I got to that point, but I was so sure that I had nothing left... I came out here absolutely certain of what I wanted to do." I look down and find that a long kitchen knife has manifested in my hand. Leigh's expression turns completely cold.
"Wes..." she warns with a quivering tone.
"It seemed so clear until I actually did it. I was hollow; like a zombie. It was the only thing I could think of. It was the only thing that made sense. But as soon as I saw the blood, and I felt my arm tear, I..." my head turns to her, "You were the only person I could think to call. The only person I trusted. The only person I wasn't scared of..."
I see her illusion case my movements as she tries to figure out my angle. To my surprise, she responds by playing along.
"You called and asked how I was doing. You didn't even start with the fact you needed help."
I nod, "...You had been with one of your friends, just having fun. Not a care in the world."
"You told me, 'I think I messed up', and I knew what had happened right away. I could tell by the tone in your voice."
"I heard you whisper to your friend in the background and tell her to call 911. You started panicking, but hid it so well behind this sweet, kind voice. You told me it was okay, and that I would be okay. You asked me where I was."
"When you told me, I broke down. I was all the way across town, and I didn't know how you had done it. I didn't know if I had minutes or seconds get to you."
"After that, everything got blurry. I could barely hear what you were saying. I could only focus on how much blood I never realized I had. How irreversible it all looked. I... I was scared."
"I was too."
I take a moment to steal myself, "If that stranger hadn't found me, I would have died out there, Leigh. And my last act would have been putting that responsibility on you."
She shakes her head in confusion, then the dream drops its act all together, "So why is it so bad that I found you this time? Isn't that better?"
"Because it's not real, Leigh," I tell her patiently, "And... And I need to live with what really happened."
"Why? Why do you want to wake up so bad, Wes?"
I jump a bit as, in unison, the rest of my family and friends emerge from the forest. Mom, Dad, Val, Claireese. They aren't alone, though. Mrs. Bauer crosses out next to Dr. Kaphila. Paul and Myra move into the clearing, followed by Tom carrying Lyle on his shoulders, both legs intact. All of them smile adoringly at me. Even behind the visors of Six and her men I can sense their wild grins. The scene does nothing to reassure me. Beneath the grey, rainy sky, their tight, upturned lips look ghastly and hungry. I tighten my grip on the knife and focus on keeping lucidity.
"We're all here, Wes. Everyone you care about; and we can be whatever you want us to be. You—you can go wherever you want to go. You can do whatever you want to do." Leigh leads the way as she steps in closer, the husks following her lead like puppets on a string. "Who cares if none of this is real, Wesly? You dream every night back home to escape; now you can have it forever, better than you ever could on your own."
Her words shoot a chill through my spine, but I don't think she even realizes what information she just gave me. 'Forever'? 'On my own'?
"What's there to go back to outside, Wes? A dark world and a bunch of monsters? A premature death for you and everyone you care about?" The husk of my sister is directly before me now, everyone else only a dozen feet away, "Stay with us... Please? You've already been through so much out there; Don't you think you deserve to be happy? We—we can make you happy. We can pretend this is real, and you can live whatever life you want... Just please, don't make me lose my big brother again..."
'She's right, Wes. We don't have her or mom anymore. We've blown almost everything back home. Six, Dad, Val... Our neighbors would barely notice, and the world is dying. What do we have to go back for?'
I swallow hard and turn my eyes down to the knife, my sad face reflecting at me in the cold steel. The same face in the same knife from all those years ago. Self-pitying and pathetic. With a deep breath, I lower it and look ahead back at Leigh. Unlike with Val, I allow myself the moment.
As I step close to her, I wrap her in my arms, feeling my eyes nearly water as I hold her. I kiss the top of her head before muttering in a cracked voice, "I miss you so much, Leigh. I'm so sorry that I didn't keep you safe."
"It's okay, Wes. I'm right here now..."
I hold my dear sister for a few moments longer with eyes shut tight before I open them and look out at the ring before me. My eyes fall on Claireese. On Kaphila. On Lyle. On all of my neighbors. Maybe I didn't have the strongest relationship with them. Maybe I had messed up with Dad and Valentine. Maybe I could stay here and forget everything awful waiting for me back home. Live out the rest of my existence in this strange fantasy land. But at the end of the day, a fantasy land is all it would be, and at the end of the day, behind all of my walls and beneath the endless layers of insecurity, I care deeply about what happens to them. The real them.
'That's what we go back for.'
Before I can change my mind, and before I can't convince myself to let Leigh go, I painfully shove her away from me. She staggers back in surprise as I raise the knife in the air with both hands.
"Wes, no!" She cries, almost with anger in her voice.
It's too late though. With no hesitation, I bring my arms down and inward in one swift motion. For just a split second, I feel the disturbingly familiar feeling of cold metal tearing into my flesh before the shock rattles through me like an electric jolt.
That's when I wake up.