Seven Fears

Prologue - Chapter Four

Prologue

There aren't many things that I can remember. Most of my memories are of my father. He was the most brilliant man that I've ever known.

There are certain moments in your life where a memory that's been buried claws its way from the depths of your mind. It pleads to be uncovered, it begs for attention.

I was seven years old.

Papa was an immigrant, and his speech would be a mixture of English and German, especially when he was frustrated, but that wasn't often.

He was so wise, my papa. In fact, I was certain that he was the most intelligent person that I would ever come to know.

It was a late summer afternoon in Alabama, the only place that I called home. It was an odd place for a German immigrant, but somehow, it was perfect for him. Amidst all of the other Alabamians, he stood out like a bright star. His stories were captivating, and his laugh, contagious.

Though, now, I can see why some would giggle at his outlandish stories, I held them close to my heart. And, there they would stay. Even now.

"Nixie, do you see the tall grass?" He said, his finger lazily pointing to the swaying ocean of green.

"Yes papa, I see."

"Do you know why the grass grows so tall, Nixie? It is so you may hide."

I looked up at him through my fingers. They served to shield the sun from my eyes as it descended in the distance. "Hide? From what, papa?"

"Oh," He said, his eyes growing wide as he splayed his fingers in front of him, "from the dragons!"

My mouth formed into an "o" as I looked up into the red and orange sky.

"Nixie, duck! One is coming now!"

I leapt into the tall grass, and he did too.

I pressed my cheek against the ground and frowned as I focused. My imagination went wild, and I swore that I could hear the dragon above, flapping its wings wildly.

Papa held his finger to his lips, and we stayed right there until we were sure that the dragon was gone.

. . .

I sniffle as I wipe at a solitary tear that's managed to escape my eye.

The shrink relaxes a bit in her chair as she sits across from me. Her eyes are kind, but her smile is fake. Everyone is fake.

"When did he die?" She asks softly, and my eyes flit from her to my lap where I nervously pick at one of the many holes in my jeans.

"He died when I was fifteen, doc." I say irritably.

"Do you think that triggered your anxiety?" She asks.

I roll my eyes as I entwine my fingers over my chest. "I don't know. How am I supposed to know that? You're the doctor, not me."

I lock my eyes onto hers and she fidgets in her chair.

"Nixie, anxiety can be debilitating. I want to help you. This is a bump, and we can get over it together. You just have to let me in."

I huff as I shake my head. "Let you in? Why? So you can give me some kind of clinical, bullshit answer? Maybe pump me up on some pills? Throw me in a fucking mental institution?"

I watch as her jaw tenses. "You obviously have pent up anger. Look, I understand that it's hard for you-"

I leap up from the couch. "Understand! You understand what exactly? If you understood, why are you asking me these questions?" I holler, jabbing my finger into my chest.

"I'll tell you a secret." I whisper. "I would be happier in the ground, because what is happening up here, I don't want it. This... this is hell. And me? I'm sick of being fucking lost. Meandering around this god-forsaken earth, only to be disappointed at every turn. Doc, nobody, including you with that fucking master's degree can change that."

I turn and storm from her office.

Once I escape into the busy streets of New York, I walk. I walk until my heart feels like it's going to burst into tiny pieces. When I stumble into the vacant alley, I cry.

I cry, and I feel sorry for myself and I wish for what I've always wished for, ever since the day that I saw my father's brain scattered across a highway.

I wish for the ground to open up and suck me down into the depths of nothingness. Because life, it has never been my friend.

 

Chapter One

I've been rotting away from the inside out. Externally and internally. I'm mangled flesh and crooked bone with jagged teeth and black eyes – I see myself as a monster. My words that I've not spoken, they've shrouded my heart and my lungs with blackness. My brain is nothing but a squishy pit of self-loathing thoughts and wants to harm myself further.

The mirror lies. Everything about me is a lie.

My eyes are not green, they are brown. The contacts lie for me.

My eyes have bags beneath them from the lack of sleep. The makeup lies for me.

The sweater that hangs from my shoulders hide the track marks. My clothing lies for me.

The drugs that pollute my body hide my crippling anxiety. The drugs lie for me.

I'm a whore. I sleep with men for drugs. I beg on street corners. I have no concept of what love really is, because I destroy it. I take it into my hands and squeeze out any possibility of love... happiness.

The sirens become nearer as I've decided to once again play Russian roulette with my life. It's a game. They've saved me six times so far. My luck is running out. My liver will eventually give way, and I will die.

I've already taken the pills and my eyes are getting heavier by the second as I sink into the dirty bathtub. I stare at the grey-smudged wall and begin counting the little, cracked tiles.

Then, the loud sounds.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Nixie!" The paramedics yell. They are desperate to save a life, even when it's as worthless as mine.

The pills call to me as death dangles before the stars which dance in front of my vision.

I do not know why I try and hold my eyes open. I imagine I am trying to see how long a weak body such as mine will hold on. It's amazing how much your body fights, even when you want to die.

I want to die. I am ready. I've been ready for so long.

The front door splinters open. Too bad for the paramedics. I've barricaded myself within my bathroom. They have another door to go. Lucky for me, my world goes black before I can see their hardened faces or hear their pleas for me to stay.

I do not wish to stay. I want to go.

"Nixie, stay with me." The paramedic's voice is urgent.

I don't feel anything, but I do see the halo of light beyond my eyelids. I'm not sure if it is the light which everyone speaks of when dying, or if the paramedics are shining a light in my face.

I hear the beeping, too.

It's slow, the rhythm keeping my focus, followed by the frantic shuffling of feet.

I'm not sure how I comprehended death to be.

I was never sure how it would feel to finally leave earth.

That is about to change.

The beeping turns into a long, flat line and the light grows brighter.

They faintly say my name, but I'm going someplace else. There is a sense that my body is being lifted, but I'm not sure that I am moving at all.

I finally feel my lips part, but it is not to speak. Urgency hits me when I realize that my lungs are emptying themselves of the last breath that I will ever take.

It whispers through my lips, and the light dims.

I manage to open my eyes slightly, and I see the ice-blue eyes of the man that's rescued my heart and soul far too many times.

"Nixie, don't leave me." He says with unshed tears sitting in the corners of his eyes.

I want to apologize. I want to thank him for everything. But I can't speak as the world goes black.

I'm dead.

 

Chapter Two

I feel little rocks beneath my feet as my skin is misted with damp breaths of air. My nose fills with the smell of the ocean, and I once again feel the soft beat of my heart beneath my ribs.

I hear the whoosh from the waves accompanied by calming white noise.

I wrinkle my nose when a lock of hair tickles it, and then I open my eyes.

I gasp when I see my surroundings. I'm on a beach. The waves calmly overlap each other before tickling the tips of my toes. The water is pristine. I can see the shapes of the rocks mixed with colorful shades of sea glass below the surface.

Large, slick rocks sit right on the shore, and a dense blanket of fog sits above the water in the distance. The unknowing sensation I get is unnerving. I can't see beyond the fog, what may be lingering behind it makes the hair at the back of my neck stand on end.

I hold my hands in front of me and examine my pale skin, only made more so by the haunting place that I've found myself in.

The soft skin of my arms is completely unscathed. There's no sign of the drugs that I've been pumping into my veins.

I run a hand over my head and capture a stray strand of hair. I hold the lock before my eyes and see that it's silky, no longer dull from malnourishment. Tracing a finger over my cheek, it is smooth to the touch, no longer housing scabs from where I've picked anxiously.

My eyes snap up when I hear a horn blow in the distance.

"Welcome."

My breath hitches when I whip around to face the unknown voice. The large, dark form hovers behind the fog.

"Who are you?" I ask, squinting my eyes as I try and make him out.

His form fades until he's completely gone.

"Does it matter?" He says, this time from a different direction.

I turn and see him standing across the beach. He's far away, but his voice wasn't. I still can't make out his features.

Nodding slowly, I begin to approach him, but he vanishes into thin air.

"Face."

I startle and turn quickly, discovering that I am nose to chest with him. I step back, and my eyes travel up to his face.

Gasping, I take another step back. His hair is white with a single black stripe through the middle. It stands straight up, waywardly meeting at a sharp tip. His face is ghostly white, and the skin around his dark eyes is painted black, along with his cheek bones and his nose and mouth. His face is painted like a skull, and he wears a long, black tunic.

"Your name is Face?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.

He nods slowly, his expression remaining stoic.

I look around and see that we are still alone on the foggy beach. "Where am I?"

"Where do you think you are?"

My eyes snap back to his, "Am I dead?"

"Do you think you are dead?"

I cross my arms over my chest. "Do you always answer questions with questions?"

His lips curl up slightly as he mirrors me, crossing his own arms over his chest. "I don't know. Do I?"

Scoffing, I turn from him and approach the water. The horn blows again in the distance and I hug my shoulders. "What is that?"

"All in due time." He says quietly.

I smirk, "No pearly gates huh? Although I'm not surprised, I never expected to see them."

I look up at him, "So is this limbo? Or hell?"

He chuckles. "Hell?"

"Yeah. I mean, I killed myself. Isn't that where people like me go?"

He shakes his head as he folds his hands in front of him. "You have a lot to learn, little dove."

I look out into the fog once more and jump when he places a hand on my lower back. "Come."

We walk side by side along the beach in silence before coming across a mossy trail leading up to a cliff. He goes before me and holds my hand gently as I follow behind.

Once we are at the top of the cliff, he leads me to the edge. The view is breathtaking. The waves crash against jagged rocks, and the dense fog continues to hide what may linger in the distance.

I've never felt such peace in my life. An eerie sense of calm, one that you feel indifferent about, one that you're not sure you should trust, but you do.

"Fear. Fear rules so many people."

I look up at him and see that he is still staring out into the distance.

I nod, "It's an ugly monster that-"

"Follows you everywhere you go. It ruins lives. It takes so much and gives nothing back." He finishes for me.

My mouth drops open. "You literally took the words right out of my mouth."

He smiles as he looks down at me. "I can see all of your thoughts. I know all of your fears."

I huff as I look down at my feet, just now realizing that I'm wearing a sky blue dress. It reminds me of him, the last person that I would ever see just so happened to be the one that I loved like no other.

"How do you think Phoenix is holding up? You killed the only one that he loved."

Tears rise as I narrow my eyes at him. "You know nothing. I was saving him."

Face turns to me. "Did you? Were you saving him, or yourself? Did you think before you acted? Did you consider what would come of him afterwards?"

My lip trembles as the tears fall from my eyes. "I did nothing for him. It's better that I'm gone."

He tilts his head to the side as he walks around me. "Maybe not. Perhaps it is better that you're gone."

I frown at his words, they weren't what I expected.

"Now, I think it's a good time for us to begin." He says from behind me.

Just as I begin to turn, he shoves me – hard - and I'm falling.

My body plunges into the icy water and I try to swim to the surface, but it's no use. I'm stuck in the depths of the ocean, and I'm fucking terrified.

I flail around, creating tiny bubbles which rise to the surface, but I suddenly stop when I see something large and dark in the distance. It gets closer, and then whips its body around.

Oh my God.

I remain completely still as I watch the large creature in the distance, my lungs feel empty after losing oxygen from my underwater screams. It keeps getting closer and closer, and my mind escapes to a safe place.

I can only think of one thing right now.

Phoenix.

. . .

Age Sixteen – New York City

When my father died, my mother packed us up and left Alabama. She was a New York native, and she never liked Alabama. Her and my father met in New York when they were in their twenties, immediately falling in love, much to my maternal grandparent's dismay.

She came from a wealthy family, and, well he was a German immigrant with a few dollars in his pockets. He was fun-loving, while my mother was always so serious. I felt like they somehow balanced each other out.

At the time, he drove this old, beat-up van. My mom still lived with my grandparents while she finished college. They were very strict, even after she turned eighteen, she was required to follow their rules so long as she lived under their roof.

When they told her that she couldn't be with my father, he took her away in his van. For three years, they were vagabonds, living the gypsy life and having not a care in the world. That is until they became pregnant with me.

They found out when they were parked under a large oak tree on the outskirts of Alabama. And, that's where we stayed.

My father got a job working in a department store, and his charm worked him up to the General Manager position. He was so excited, but my mother, she was so unhappy. She never finished her degree, and being a stay at home mother just didn't work for her.

When dad died, she was just... done.

I was so sad to leave my friends in Alabama. So many things just went terribly wrong in my life.

On my first day of my new school, I met Kris. She became a good friend, and a bad influence. On the late nights that my mother would work at the hospital as a nurse's aide, Kris and I would smoke pot in my bedroom. One night, she decided that she was going to invite some friends, unbeknownst to me.

I was excited. I had yet to meet anybody other than Kris really, but I was also anxious. Anxiety was no stranger to me after I saw my father die.

My heart raced when the gentle knock came from our apartment's door. I ran my shaky hands over the black tank top that I was wearing as I nervously waited for her to open the door.

Then, a calm washed over me when I saw him.

His hair was black, shaggy and curled slightly around his ears. He was tall and lean. His hands were tucked deep into his pockets as he looked around the apartment, but then, his blue eyes landed on mine.

Everything was noisy. But us? We stood still, taking each other in, picking each other apart with only our eyes.

Kris looked from me to the boy with the ice blue eyes.

She smirked as she approached me and linked an arm through mine, "Nixie, this is Phoenix."

I smiled as he ran his hand through his hair. I ran my sweaty palm over my jeans before reaching out to him. "It's nice to meet you."

He smiled as he grabbed my hand in his, giving it a squeeze. "It's nice to meet you, Nixie."

Until the early morning hours, we sat on the bed, smoking pot and listening to angst ridden music. I began to get anxious. It always came in waves. The anxiety would slowly descend into the black hole that was my mind, only to claw its way back out.

I hopped up and opened the window before crawling out onto the fire escape. I grabbed the pack of Marlboro cigarettes from behind the flower pot that contained dead weeds. I strategically placed it on the window sill, its sole purpose being hiding my smokes from mom.

I lit one and looked out into the alleyway. A homeless man had his ass sticking in the air as he rummaged around in the dumpster.

I felt the fire escape shift as someone jumped down behind me, and I smiled when Phoenix appeared beside me.

"Those are bad for you." He said, bumping me playfully with his shoulder.

I looked down at the smoke that rose from the cigarette. "I know."

"So what kind of name is Nixie, anyway?"

I rolled my eyes before inhaling the smoke. "It's German. It means 'water sprite', but my father said that it also means beautiful."

"Then it's a perfect name for you."

I blushed as I looked up at the starry sky. "He also said, that unlike pixies, nixies are belligerent towards men."

Looking up into his eyes, I grinned.

"Gotta go! Your mom's here!" Kris said, jumping from the window with the other two boys in suit.

My eyes never left his. I felt comfort. I didn't ever want to look away, but of course, all good things must come to an end.

I gasped when he yanked my body towards him, and his lips slammed into mine. When he pulled away, he smiled, leaving me breathless. "I need to see you again, Nixie."

Then, he was gone.

. . .

As the ominous form inches closer and closer, I feel my body loosen up. Phoenix had always been my saving grace... and now, even in death.

When I see the beady black eyes and jagged teeth, I wrap my arms around my body as I float soundlessly beneath the water. I'm utterly defenseless as he locks onto me. When he is only feet away, I squeeze my eyes shut and anticipate being ripped from limb to limb.

But no such thing happens.

I dare to open my eyes and am shocked when I see the tunnels of light that permeate the once dark water. Surrounding me is a family of bottlenose dolphins. They look majestic as they twirl around me, their slick skin glistening in the sunlight.

I feel the invisible hold release me and my legs kick me back to the surface of the water.

Once I emerge, I look around frantically and my heart races when I see the shark's fin circling the water in the distance.

I swim as fast as I can to the shore, and fall to my side as soon as I am fully out of the water. I curl my fingers in the rocks. Lifting my hand, I watch the pebbles fall from my palm before a sob escapes me.

I see black appear before me and scowl when my gaze travels up to Face's black eyes.

Leaping to my feet, I ball my hands at my sides as I look up at him. "What was that?"

He pulls his hand to his face and inspects his long fingernails, "Fear of sharks? I would have never imagined."

I shake my head. "What is this? What are you doing?"

He smiles, "I'm glad you asked. It's a game."

"A game?"

"Yes," He responds, "It's called Seven Fears."

 

Chapter Three

"I don't understand." I say as I stare out into the ocean. "You say this is a game, but why?"

Face turns towards me, "To help you move on to the other side."

Shaking my head slowly, I turn towards him as I cross my arms over my chest. "You say it's called Seven Fears... does everyone have seven fears?"

"No, they do not. Some have three or four."

I scoff, "So death is pretty much like some fucked up Fear Factor?"

"I'm sorry?" Face says, tilting his head to the side.

I laugh. "It's nothing."

He folds his hands in front of him. "Death is unique for each individual, Nixie. Those who die in peace go directly to where they want to be. Heaven and hell are different for everyone."

He takes a step towards me and grasps my shoulders. "During this process, you will have many memories. It is imperative that you recall the most important events of your life, specifically the ones that changed you. You will face your fears, no matter how frightening they may be."

I shake my head. "What if I don't want to?"

His lips curl up slightly, "I'm afraid that isn't up to you. You may have decided to take your own life, but in my world, you follow my rules."

I exhale shakily as I nod. "Okay, so... one down, six to go."

He nods. "Now, close your eyes. I need you to think about a profound moment in your life, and we will go from there."

I squeeze my eyes shut, and search my mind.

. . .

Age eleven – Altoona, Alabama

"The princess rode the horse into the kingdom of Two Towers, for she didn't need a prince. No. She was strong like an ox, but gracious like a swan. She only needed herself."

I smiled as my papa concluded his story. It was never the same one, he'd make them up off the top of his head each and every night.

I smiled up at him. "But does the princess ever find a prince?"

He placed a hand on the top of my head before leaning down and kissing my forehead. "Yes, Nixie. She does, and when she does, she falls madly in love."

I gave him a toothy smile as I thought of my perfect prince. Ironically, he had beautiful blue eyes and black hair.

I already knew that Phoenix would be my prince... my one and only.

. . .

My eyes snap open and I gasp when I realize where I'm sitting.

In the back of my father's old, blue Volkswagon Beatle.

"Oh my God." I whisper as I look at my fifteen year old self with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Tears rise in my eyes as I lean forward between the seats and look at my father. His hair is combed to the side and his face is clean shaven. His kind brown eyes look sad as he stares forward, his hardworking hands clutching the steering wheel.

The tears roll down my cheeks as I reach out and run my fingers over his cheek.

"Papa." I whisper.

He doesn't acknowledge me.

"He can't hear, feel or see you Nixie." Face says.

I lean back and look towards Face. "I can't see this. I... I can't see my father die again."

Face's eyes remain locked ahead and I count down the seconds to what will change my fifteen year old life forever.

"Nixie, separations do not last forever. Sometimes, people can work it out. Your mama just needs time." Papa says.

"I hate her." My fifteen year old self spits out.

I shake my head as I watch the interaction. I was angry with my mother, but because I could never talk to her, I let it all out on papa. I should have told him how much I needed him in my life. I should have made him stop the car so that he could avoid the wreck... so that I could wrap my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight once more.

I watch as papa looks over at her.

"I love you more than anything, Nixie."

My fifteen year old self turns from him, and my eyes squeeze shut when I hear the tires screech followed by the crushing of metal.

A sob escapes me as I wait to hear my screams, but it never happens.

"NO!"

My eyes snap open when I hear it. It wasn't my fifteen year old self, but my father. I watch as he removes the seatbelt, and then my eyes travel up to the broken glass in front of the passenger seat.

I open the door and climb out.

Her body is mangled, her legs and arms going in every which direction. Her dark hair is surrounding her head, and her eyelashes fall over pale cheeks.

Her chest doesn't rise or fall, and as the blood leaks from the large wound in her head, I realize that my fifteen year old self... she's dead. Not my papa, and my heart hurts as I watch him run to the body.

Lifting her into his arms, he cradles her as he wails inconsolably.

Face appears beside me and I look up at him. "The seatbelt. It was broken on the driver's side when he died."

Face nods, "It was, but this time, it was broken on your side. Small things that we generally do not consider can change everything. In the blink of an eye, your life could either end or change dramatically."

He places a hand on my shoulder, "Close your eyes."

I nod and do as he says.

"Open."

I slowly open my eyes and look around the hospital. My father is in the waiting room with his face buried in his hands, and his broad back shakes as he cries.

I hear the clicking of heals against the linoleum and watch as my mother walks towards him, and his bloodshot eyes peek over his rough hands.

She looks disheveled as he tells her that my fifteen year old self is dead, and she collapses, but not before he wraps his arms around her. She cries for a long time before she begins beating her fists against his chest.

I look up at Face. "Dying... it was never one of my fears."

He smiles somberly, "No, it wasn't. But not existing was."

Frowning, I look towards my parents. "But I did. I did exist."

"To them, you did."

"I don't understand."

Face places his large hand over my eyes, and when he removes it, we're are standing in the middle of Central Park.

The buildings stand tall beyond the trees. The leaves are orange and red. It feels and smells like fall.

But, it isn't the beautiful park that has my attention, it's the boy that stole my heart... and Kris.

He swings her around before placing her feet back on the ground. When he runs his fingers over her cheek, I do the same to mine, remembering how his touch would warm me to my very core, and when he kisses her, I press my fingers to my lips, recalling how his kiss could heal.

"Kris and Phoenix, they would have never known you. To them, you would be no one."

I purse my lips to stop them from trembling as I fall to my knees. The tears stream from my eyes as I watch my two best friends being madly in love with each other.

Just as Phoenix and I were.

 

Chapter Four

I sit on a large, smooth rock as I look out into the distance.

"You are your own worst enemy." Face says from where he stands behind me.

Bowing my head, I hug my knees tight to my chest. "I don't know what scares me more. Not existing, or seeing them both doing so well without ever have knowing me."

"Is that what you believe?"

I scoff. "I know it. They didn't need some pathetic druggie like me around." Closing my eyes, I rest my chin on my knees.

My eyes snap open when I hear a television. I look up and see that I'm in sitting in a disgusting room where food wrappers and cigarette butts litter the floor. The air smells of stagnant smoke, and the room is dark other than the glow from the television.

There is a mattress on the floor with a person sitting on it.

It's my papa.

His eyes are bloodshot as he holds a cigarette in one hand and a half empty bottle of liquor in the other.

"Do you see now? Do you see what your death would have done to your father?"

I crawl across the floor and climb on top of the dirty mattress. Frowning, I place a hand on his once strong arm. He's so skinny. His skin is yellowing, as are his eyes.

"Where is my mother?" I ask, looking up at Face.

He bows his head as he reaches for my hand. When I place mine in his, we appear in a cemetery.

Her grave is right at my feet. Based on the date, she would have died shortly after the wreck.

"Your mother would have killed herself."

. . .

Age Seventeen – New York City

My mother threw her hands up in the air as she stood in front of the stove. She was angry that I was leaving. I was ready. I couldn't deal with our tumultuous mother-daughter relationship anymore.

"Where are you going to go?"

I stared down at my lap when I answered. "Kris' apartment. She has two bedrooms. I'm going to start working at the diner that she works at."

Her eyes grew wide as she crossed her arms over her chest. "You're quitting school? Nixie, you have so much promise. What happened to the little girl that was going to fly to the moon and back?"

My fingers tightened around the straps of my backpack. "She's dead."

She shook her head as the tears streamed down her face. "Not going to college was-"

"The biggest mistake you ever made?" I spit out.

Turning abruptly, she began stirring the soup once more. "Your father would be so disappointed Nixie."

The blood rose to my face as I jumped to my feet. "No! Don't use him. Don't blame him for your failure, mom."

I gasped when she turned and landed her palm across my cheek. "Fine! Get out. Get out now!"

Stumbling backwards, I placed my hand over my throbbing cheek.

She shook her head slowly as she pointed her index finger at me. "Don't come back here when you've fuck your entire life up."

. . .

"Where are we?" I ask Face. We're standing outside of a hospital room, the beeping from multiple rooms reverberate throughout the hall where nurses and doctors bustle about.

He nods to the door and I see my name, "Nixie Weber".

I watch with wide eyes as Face walks straight through the door, and I hesitantly follow behind.

I slowly approach the bed where my body lays still. Tubes are going into my nose and throat. IVs are in my arms and hands, and my mother runs her index finger over my fingers.

"This is shortly after you took the pills the third time, Nixie. She continued to go to you every time after... that is, until-"

"Lucky number seven." I breathe out.

He nods as I continue to watch my mother. A solitary tear works its way over her cheekbone to the tip of her nose. "I didn't see her after I left when I was seventeen. I didn't want to. I was so angry with her, and her with me."

Face chuckles. "Yes, you get your stubbornness from her."

I smile, "My papa used to say that."

Walking around the bed, I lean down and kiss my mother gently on her cheek. My lips become damp from the trail that the tear left.

"I love you, mom."

Face gently touches my elbow. "Come."

I follow him through the hall and stop abruptly when I see Phoenix. His elbows are resting on his knees and there is a vase of red roses sitting beside him. His eyes are full of so much hurt, and it makes me hate myself.

Face looks down at me. "He would leave red roses. Every single time."

I nod as a tear escapes my eye. I wipe it away clumsily. "He never left a note or anything, but I always knew they were from him."

. . .

Age Twenty – New York City

I laid beside Phoenix as we stayed tangled beneath the white sheets. Our limbs wrapped around each other in pretzel fashion.

I traced my finger over the tattoo of a phoenix that covered the right side of his muscular chest. He was the most beautiful man. Inside and out. He was an incredibly talented tattoo artist, and as we grew older, he became covered in ink.

He grabbed a rose from the vase beside my bed and ran it over the skin of my arm. He would bring me roses every Friday, and we would lie in bed together the entire weekend. Making love and watching cheesy B-Rated horror movies. It was our time.

"I brought my kit." He said slyly.

Propping my chin up on his chest, I smiled. "Oh?"

He smiled as he ran his index finger over my cheek. "I think it's time that you let me tattoo you."

"Where at?"

His eyebrows sat high on his forehead as a shocked expression covered his face. "Really? I thought you'd fight me on this."

I smiled as I looked into his electric eyes. "I trust you."

He excitedly leapt from the bed and I admired his bare body as he retrieved his backpack from across the room. He sat it beside him and tore the sheet from my body.

"Hey!" I squealed as I laid naked before his eyes. He put his finger to his lips and a mock look of concentration spread across his face as he surveyed my body. "Hmm, where will I put this piece of art? I have to say, this is the most beautiful canvas that I've ever worked with."

I playfully swatted at him. "Shut up!"

He crawled to the foot of the bed and picked up my left foot, kissing every inch of skin of my foot and leg before moving onto the right one.

Moving up, he kissed my inner thighs, igniting a sigh to roll from my lips.

"Maybe here." He whispered against the sensitive skin.

I moaned when he kissed my heat, and then my pelvic bone.

He worked his way up to my stomach and then to my breasts, my neck and my jaw. Then, he kissed my inner arm. "Right here."

"Yeah?" I whispered, smiling from ear to ear.

He nodded slowly before his lips met mine, and then, he got to work.

The soft skin of my inner arm hurt as the tattoo gun scraped across it, but I couldn't stop staring at him as he put a piece of his art on my body. I would cherish it forever.

Finally, he was done, and my eyes travelled down to the finished piece.

"Earth's the right place for love." I whispered.

I looked up at him, and my breath caught in my throat at the look of sheer love that was in his eyes. He held up his arm, and I smiled when I saw the matching tattoo.

"Birches." We both said in unison, referring to the poem that we equally loved.

He leaned over me and kissed my cheek before looking into my eyes. "I love you more than anything, Nixie. I'll give you the world if you let me."

. . .

The sun shines down from the sky as the priest prays over the open casket. There isn't any point in asking Face whose funeral it is, because I already know.

It's mine.

As we begin to walk closer, I am able to make out my thin body. My bones stick out beneath the fabric of the black dress, and my hands are folded over my chest.

"Seven. That was your lucky number." Face says, referring to my multiple attempts of ending my life.

I bow my head in shame and listen to the priest's prayer.

"God our Father,

Your power brings us to birth,

Your providence guides our lives,

and by Your command we return to dust."

I look towards the three people in attendance, all of them dressed in black, other than Phoenix. He wears a bright blue suit. It makes me smile.

"Would anyone like to say any last words?" The priest asks.

My mother sniffles as she dabs her eyes and Kris wraps a skinny arm around her shoulder.

Phoenix nods his head slowly and approaches my casket.

"Nixie." He whispers as he looks down at my lifeless body. "I... I made a promise to you that I would never leave your side." His chest shakes as a sob escapes him.

My entire body is trembling as I look on helplessly.

"I would jump into the ground with you right now, if it meant that I could be with you again. I would rip my heart out of my chest if it meant that I could kiss your lips one last time. You know what the funny thing is? I'm an idiot, because you couldn't have loved me. If you did, you wouldn't have left me here alone. I just couldn't ever let go of you. You were so broken, and I wanted to fix you, because I've never loved anyone as much as I loved you."

I squeeze my eyes shut and allow the many tears to flow from beneath my eyelids. "No. I do love you. You're better without me. Please know, I love you so much." I grab at the fabric over my chest as he continues.

"I guess I should move on. That's what they say, right? It all gets better with time? I don't believe that. I can't live a happy life knowing that you're rotting in the ground. I can only hope, that wherever your soul goes, that you're happier than you were here. With me."

"No." I whisper, shaking my head emphatically.

Face looks down at me. "You did not fear death, but you greatly feared hurting the ones that you loved."

"I can't do this. I can't leave. Not yet!"

Face shakes his head, "Do you really have that choice?"

My breathing quickens as I look from Phoenix to my casket. "I won't... I can't die."

My feet pick up from under me, and I run with all of my might to the casket before leaping inside.

Fear fills my body entirely when the lid slams down above me.

"No. No!" I scream as I beat my fists against the wood. "I don't want this! Please!"

I feel everything; when they lift the casket and lower it into the ground, and when they begin throwing the dirt into my grave.

Panic sets in when the light from the cracks dim, and then I know that I'm covered, buried.

My fate sealed.

 

Chapter Five

I've lost all sense of time. How long I've been inside of this casket, I don't know. I've clawed away the inner lining of fabric, and my fingernails have left scratches within the interior.

I wanted nothing but death, but now, I would give anything to see the ones that I love.

To take away their pain.

To live.

. . .

Age twenty-two – New York City

"What the fuck is this?" Phoenix hollered as he held up the tiny baggie full of Heroin. He came over for dinner, and I thought that I'd hidden my stash well, but I didn't.

I looked up from the stove where I was preparing spaghetti and meatballs. "Oh!" I said, a mock look of surprise spreading across my face. "I must have forgotten."

He lowered his arm and shook his head. I'm sure that he wanted to shake me, to knock some sense into me. I was being stupid, I knew, but I couldn't stop.

He tossed the bag onto the table and approached me. Standing behind me, he grabbed my arms and circled my skin with his thumbs before kissing the top of my head and sighing.

"Why? Why won't you stop?" He w

I shook my head, "Phoenix, I did! I didn't know it was there!"

He whipped me around and stared down into my eyes. "Stop. Lying. Please, just tell me why you can't stop. I'll help you. I'll do whatever you need me to, just tell me why."

I blinked several times before diverting my eyes. "Because, when I... when I take it, I don't feel anything. I don't feel fear, or sadness. I just don't feel."

He shook his head. "Stay with me. Come live with me. Nixie, we've been together for over six years. I want you to be with me."

"No." I responded sharply, "I like having my own space."

His jaw tensed as he stared down at me. "How are you getting the drugs, Nixie? Tell me right now."

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head haltingly. "I just get them."

"No!" He shouted, placing his hands on each side of my face, he tilted my head up and forced me to look into his eyes. "Tell me the truth."

The truth was sick, and dirty, and wrong on so many levels. I would have done anything to keep it from him, because I loved Phoenix, and I knew that my truth would break him.

My heart began beating rapidly when a knock came from the door, and my eyes grew wide when I saw Phoenix look over his shoulder.

His eyes darted back to mine, and I shook my head emphatically. "No." I whispered as he turned and began walking to the door.

There were only two people, other than my clients who ever came to my door. Kris and Phoenix, and I knew that Kris was at a rave. It wasn't unusual for my clients to stop by randomly. I would hope and pray that they wouldn't ever come when Phoenix was there.

I didn't do it for sex, or attention. I was sick. My anxiety was debilitating, to the point where I couldn't work. The drugs felt so good at first. They quieted my mind, and made me forget about everything that was wrong in my life. When I became hooked, I just kept chasing the high that I felt the first time that I injected the poison into my veins. I never reached that high again, but I never stopped chasing it. It had such a strong hold on me. It was relentless. Heroin was my best friend, but also my enemy.

Heroin was the sadist, and I was the masochist.

"No." I said again, grabbing his arm. He shook me off and my heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach when Phoenix flung the door open.

Phoenix looked disgusted when he looked from me to the chubby, bald man outside of the door.

"Who are you?" Phoenix gritted out, and my client shook his head slowly.

"I know you said no drop-ins, Nixie, I just had a long day. I can see you're helping somebody else. I'll just leave you be."

"No." Phoenix growled, grabbing the man's collar and pulling him close. "Why are you here?"

Tears leaked from my eyes as I bowed my head.

The client raised his hands. "Look, I'm not looking for any trouble, it's just that Nixie and I have a little agreement. That's all."

Phoenix tightened his grip. "Cut the bullshit, and tell me why you're here."

The client nodded haltingly. "Sex, alright? I'm a married man, and I pay her for sex."

Phoenix released him, shoving him out into the hall before slamming the door.

He whipped around to face me and my shoulders curled inwards.

Grabbing my arms, he backed me against the wall. "I'm not doing this anymore. You either pack up your shit, move in with me and get clean, or we are done. Nixie, I'm serious. I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore. I fucking love you. Do you hear me?"

He placed his hands on both sides of my face as he looked deep into my eyes. "I love you."

My heart hurt as I watched the tears form in his eyes. I wanted to do anything that I could to reassure him that I would get better. I wanted to... I really did. For him... for me.

I didn't want to lose him.

"Okay." I whispered, nodding haltingly. "Okay, I'll do it."

. . .

"Why couldn't you stop for him and for yourself?" Face asks.

I slowly open my eyes and see that I'm standing on the cliff overlooking the ocean.

"I couldn't. I felt like the drugs were my salvation, when it was really my demon. I couldn't see my real savior when he was standing right in front of me. Phoenix wanted me to get better... I didn't want to get better, though. I was complacent. I didn't want to change, because normalcy frightened me."

Face places a hand on my shoulder. "Now, you're here, and he's alone."

Tears fill my eyes as I watch the fog roll over the rough waves. I wipe a tear away before it travels to my chin. "I've messed up so, so many times. I'm afraid that I've done it this time. I thought that I was only hurting myself, but I was hurting them, too. I was numb while my mother and Phoenix watched me deteriorate."

Face nods. "You're beginning to understand, little dove. That's why you're here. You need to cleanse your spirit."

I huff. "Cleanse my spirit? How? This is torture."

He laughs. "Your fears have controlled you your entire life. When your father died, you began to numb yourself. You used drugs to dull out the pain. You refused to face life, and in turn, you also refused to overcome your fears. Being here forces you to overcome them, while it also forces you to comprehend the damage that you've done. There aren't any drugs here to hide behind. It's just you, your fears, and your memories. Do you notice how you've recalled all of those life altering moments during times of fear? Do you understand why?"

I sigh as I shake my head. "I don't. I don't understand at all."

Face bows his head as he exhales. "We must continue."

I grasp his arms as I shake my head emphatically. "No! I can't face anymore."

He grabs my wrists and pulls my hands away. "We are not done here. It's my job to make sure that you face all of your fears."

"No!" I holler as I struggle to escape his grasp. "What would I be if I were still there? If... if I was still alive. Tell me?"

He releases me abruptly and I crumple to my feet.

"You would be no better than you were. You would continue to harm yourself, and you would push the only ones that loved you away. You would deteriorate, and you would die."

My chest heaves as I stare down at my hands. I can't comprehend why I wish to see what I would have become if I would have stayed, but I want to see.

"Show me." I whisper, my eyes travelling up to his. "Show me what would have become of me."

Face shakes his head slowly as he stares down at me.

"Please." I plead.

He sighs and reaches his hand towards me. I place my hand in his and climb to my feet.

I wrap my fingers tightly around his large hand as we stare out into the ocean.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I suck the salty air into my lungs.

"Solch ein schwieriges Kind, Nixie."

"What?" I breathe out, my eyes snapping open. But Face is gone, and all I see is white.

I stare up at the ceiling, afraid to look around at my current surroundings. I hear beeping to my left and some type of hushed commotion beyond the walls of the room I'm in.

I recognize the sounds and the sterile smell. I'm... I'm in a hospital.

Running shaky hands over my body, I feel the thin sheet draped over my front as I lie on my back.

"She's awake." I hear the voice, though it isn't one I recognize.

My head rolls to the side and I see a nurse holding a clipboard in her hands as her kind brown eyes scan over the details of my clipboard. Her skin is a caramel color and her scrubs are pink. Her hair is pulled up and tight tendrils of curls hang over the crown of her head.

I sit up quickly and cough.

She smiles as she looks over at me. "Slow down, sug. We just took the ventilator out, your throat will be pretty sore."

Placing my hand over my throat, I massage it instinctively. "How long have I been out?" I rasp.

"Several weeks. Your liver needed some time to repair, and we needed to make sure that your lungs could work again on their own. We thought we lost you for a minute."

"You know," She continues as she casually sits beside me on the hospital bed, "I walk through these ICU halls every day of my life. I've seen all walks of life come through here. Some fight, some do not. Some have no choice whether they live or die... but do you know what they all have in common?"

Her eyes slowly move from the clipboard and meet mine. "They always have some poor bastard by their side praying that they stay."

My gaze travels to the withered red roses across the room. Dead petals surround the vase and I watch as the last one falls to its doom, leaving the stems bare.

"Phoenix." I whisper.

She sighs. "Yes, that poor blue-eyed boy has been here every day. Not today, though."

My eyes snap to hers. "What do you mean?"

"Four PM sharp, every day. That's when he comes. It's past seven."

I pull my knees to my chest and hug them tightly. "When can I get out of here?" I ask, knowing fully well that I have to stay under suicide watch for several days.

"Well," She says, "You'll be here for several more hours until you are discharged, then you'll be going with a nice man, his name is Gregory. He'll be taking you to North Point Hospital."

I frown. "But there's no need to transfer me to another hospital if you're discharging me. It's never happened before, I don't see why it should happen now."

"Nixie," She murmurs, "You are a risk to yourself. You have tried to kill yourself seven times, and while you have not been successful, I'm afraid that we – as well as your mother agrees that you need extensive psychological help. Here, we are not trained to do so, but North Point is."

My eyes grow wide as I slowly shake my head. "Y-you're sending me to a mental hospital?"

"What did you think would happen, Nixie?" She asks calmly, "We cannot allow this to continually happen."

"Please. I just need to see Phoenix. I'll never do it again. I promise." I plead.

She smiles weakly. "Yes, well I'm afraid that you'll have to prove that to the staff at North Point. It's out of our hands."

"No." I whisper, slowly climbing down from the bed. "I won't go."

The nurse stands and holds her hands up. "Don't do anything stupid, Nixie. We're just trying to help you."

I shake my head as I tighten my fingers around the tubes which lead to my IVs. "I refuse. You can't force me to go."

"You do not have that choice any longer, Nixie. You're being involuntarily committed. It's for your own good."

I grit my teeth as I yank the IV from my arm, the pain travels all the way up to my chest as I shove past the nurse, knocking her over. Once I emerge from the room, the staff's eyes are on me as rivulets of blood streak my arm and drip onto the floor surrounding my toes.

My feet pound against the linoleum as I run through the ICU hall, refusing to look inside of the rooms of other dying patients. People who likely would choose life over death any day.

When I burst through the doors, I end up in a waiting room. Wide eyes lock onto me as the alarm begins ringing throughout the hospital.

My chest is heaving, and it seems as if time stops when I see his electric eyes.

He sits in a chair across from where I stand. His elbows rest on his knees and his tattooed fingers are entwined as his sad eyes stay on mine. I hear the staff shouting my name, and my eyes flit from his to the glowing red exit sign above the door.

When my gaze lands on his once more, his brow furrows as he shakes his head.

Running, it's something I'm impeccably good at. When things get too good or too bad, I run. I run, because reality is utterly terrifying. I run, because my truth is my enemy.

Madness. That's what they call it. That's what they call people like me.

So, I run. I run with all my might to that exit sign. I don't need anyone to tell me who I am or what I need, because I already know. Face taught me everything that I needed to know... that I needed to see.

But then, I'm reminded that what I want; what I've always wanted – freedom from my mind, my body, my life - is stripped from me once again as the large arm wraps around my center, holding me from my escape. I feel a pinch in my neck followed by a burning sensation as the syringe's contents are emptied deep into the muscle.

Then, my body goes numb and my eyes begin to fall shut as they once again lock onto the ice blue eyes of the man who has saved me far too many times.

I guess the number seven isn't so lucky after all.

...

"Where am I?" I murmur as the blurry man shines a light into my eyes.

"What's your name?" He responds as I sway from side to side.

I keep squinting my eyes, but I don't know who this man is. The room is painfully white and bright. He... he's a beige blur.

"Nixie... Weber..." I murmur, feeling the saliva drip from my bottom lip onto my chest. "I... I want to go home."

I watch his head wag, and I still can't make his face out when I try and lift my hands... but they're not moving. I'm frozen to this chair... my arms are strapped down, and soon, when I try and lift my back from the chair, I realize that my chest is strapped down too.

My chest shakes when I begin sobbing. "I've been in hell... or limbo, I don't know. His name is Face, and..." I stop momentarily, willing myself to calm down before I continue. "His name was Face, and he pushed me into the water. There was a shark, but when I closed my eyes – I saw Phoenix, and the shark was gone."

"You need to calm down," The beige man murmurs, and I shake my head emphatically.

"No... No, no, no. Phoenix made the shark go away... see, the shark was a metaphor... the shark was death, Phoenix was life... please."

"Ma'am," The beige man warns. "You are at North Point hospital. We're here to help you. I need you to--"

"No!" I holler. "You're not listening. I saw everything. I need to be alive! Do you understand? I can't die... I can't."

The blurry man grabs my shoulders tightly. "Nixie... stop. You need help. That's why you're here."

"Fuck you!" I holler. "I need to go home. I need to see Phoenix! Don't you understand? I won't be okay if... if he's not okay. If he thinks that I'm dead... I can't."

"Ma'am," the blur murmurs. "Phoenix is dead."

My eyes grow wide, and I seem to sober immediately as his words soak in.

"What did you just say?"

My eyes search his now clear face. From his deep brown eyes to his thick hair that's tied into a ponytail.

"Nixie... Phoenix is dead."

I smile... I actually smile, because Phoenix is indestructible. He... he's immortal. Phoenix can't die. This man is lying.

"You're lying. He's alive."

The man smirks as he looks down at me. "No, Nixie. Phoenix is dead."

I tilt my head as I regard this man. "You are a fucking liar. He isn't dead. He told me that he lived for me, that I meant the world... that—"

I pause while my own words sink into my head.

"You understand," The man murmurs, and I watch in horror when his mediocre features morph into Face.

"I fucking hate you," I growl as the straps that once held me down slither across my skin.

Leaping from where I stand, I approach the enigma. "Why are you doing this to me? Shouldn't I be burning in hell? Aren't you breaking some type of code having me do this?" I look up at his face incredulously, but he remains completely stoic. "Why the fuck am I here?"