My ragged breath was clearly visible in the near freezing temperature. I could feel the cold radiating from the mirrored walls, chilling me from the inside out. My reflection stared back at me, cheeks flushed, sweat on my brow.
The cracks were right at my feet now, falling away from my shredded feet as I stepped down.
Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!
Mirrored glass exploded out from the walls in the distance behind me, the walls fell away, dropping into the blackness below. My reflection gritted its teeth as cramps formed in my sides. I've never been a good runner, my body was at its limits and I could feel myself slowing down, the glass digging even deeper into my feet as my footsteps grew heavier. I turned back towards my reflection and it winked, shooting off into the distance with a burst of speed.
I stopped. I couldn't run any further. The glass gave way beneath my feet and I fell.
Chapter 7
Shit!
Red light. Almost ran it. I get distracted easily. The intersection on Memoir Drive doesn't have a protected left turn.
The light turned green and I drove slowly down my street until I reached my driveway, parked and stepped out of the car. My neighbor across the street, some kid—maybe about twelve years old—waved to me. I waved back. I think his name was Martin. I don't really know, I don't interact with the neighbors much.
It was about 10 A.M. now so I still had a few hours to kill before I was supposed to meet her.
My dreams were getting more and more intense.
That sound... God what was that sound?
I went down the hall to the office, opened the door and looked around. Everything was in order. Small desk in the corner by the window, plenty of clutter on it, my little office rolling chair tucked underneath.
Motion.
What was that?
I caught it from the corner of my eye. I could have sworn I saw myself running down the hall... I poked out of the office and looked both ways. Nothing. I left my office and instead went to my bedroom and sat on my bed. I'm so tired. I don't remember the last time I slept well. Every night is just one dream after the other and I can never tell when I'm awake or not. Like I said, my dreams are detailed. Detailed and usually mundane, not the stuff most people dream about like flying, or shit like that. There’s no way to differentiate between the dreams and things I do, or did, in real life.
When it wasn't the dreams then it was just insomnia keeping me up. I'd get so wrapped up in a task that I just couldn't pull away, even if that task was simply trying to find something to do so I didn't have to sleep: reorganizing my office, reading the news, doing laundry… It didn’t really matter as long as I wasn’t sleeping. I don't know why I tried staying awake, I mean I love sleep. I miss it. Badly. But I just don't want to. I don't want to go to sleep and dream these fucking dreams and spend the rest of the night tortured in my own house.
I stood, very reluctantly, from my bed and looked around my room, taking note of all the details. I couldn’t be too sure, what if I was sleeping right now? Once I was satisfied everything was in order I went back down the hall into my living room. I remembered that the morning paper came today. Completely slipped my mind. I read the newspaper a lot. I know my phone would be much more convenient, but I’ve always loved the newspaper ever since I was little. I practically taught myself how to read from the newspaper. I went back outside—Martin was still playing and his brother had joined him now—and picked the paper up off of my driveway taking it back inside.
I plopped down on my sofa, set my keys on the coffee table and removed the newspaper from its clear plastic bag. I loved the smell of a newspaper right out of the bag. That rich musty smell. Something about it...
The first article above the crease on the front page caught my attention immediately. It read:
Local Business Man Murdered In His Own Home
by CB Morris
Police discovered the remains of Charles Green, 56, late Thursday night, brutally murdered in his own home. He was found with multiple stab wounds in his chest and back. Police and locals alike are puzzled by this grisly act of violence in their normally quiet suburban town. Police would not comment when pressed about possible suspects or motives, pending a full investigation. Charles Green...
I stopped reading there. Charles Green sounded familiar. Really familiar, but I couldn't quite place from where. I looked at the page again. A meek, middle-aged man with a receding hairline, a little gap between his two front teeth, lips pulled back into a goofy gap-toothed smile with a small round nose sat atop of it. His eyes were magnified by his thick-framed glasses. Seemed like a nice enough fellow, I didn't like him though. I didn't know why, I just felt uncomfortable as he stared back at me from behind his glasses. Forever frozen, no more pictures would ever be taken of Charles Green. At least not of him smiling. Or alive. Unsettling thought.
I turned the page and perused through the paper but none of the other headlines really caught my attention. How disappointing.
Charles Green... Where did I know you from? I knew I had seen him somewhere. Knew it without a doubt. It was going to drive me crazy all day trying to remember where I had seen him.
It wasn't even 10:30 A.M. yet. Time moves so much slower when you're either looking forward to, or dreading something. In this case, it was a little bit of both. We hadn't seen each other in so long and she said she was worried about me so it wouldn't lead to a pleasant reminiscing. There would be the awkward small talk in the beginning, neither of us wanting to be the first to bring up whatever concerns there were. In the end I would do the asking, she always knew I would act first. Then there would be the questions…
“Are you OK? Why haven't you been sleeping? Why haven't you kept in contact?”
I already knew the tone of voice she would use. The soft sympathetic tone with a bite to it that reassured me she was being serious but also genuinely cared.
Then I would respond with generic answers to everything she asked.
“Yes I'm OK. I just haven't been. I'm sorry, I've been busy.”
But she could always cut through my bullshit, not like it was hard to tell that those answers were bullshit or anything, but she would always call me out on it. She would keep pressing and I'd keep dodging, until she’d finally catch my eye directly in hers. I couldn't dodge and weave through a conversation with her when I was looking her directly in the eye. I could with other people but never with her. Never. It was like I was already having the conversation.
After the serious stuff was done we would try to catch up a little bit and maybe discuss some current events. I made a mental note to ask her about Charles Green. Green… I wonder what he did for someone to want to kill him. Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You don't hear of murders in this town very often.
I rested my head all the way back against the seat of the couch. It was an expensive sofa but my God it was worth it. You've never sat in anything so comfortable. It helped my back. I've always had poor posture and now I was paying for it with aches and pains.
Her wavy black hair tickled my nose and faint scents of vanilla drifted into my nostrils. It made me feel warm. The grass was making my arms and head itch so I shifted a little. She stirred in her sleep and slowly lifted her head up. Deep brown eyes blinked from the sun and finally focused their gaze straight into my own. She smiled and I smiled back. Her expression grew somber and I could sense she was reading my mind. She apparently didn't like what she saw. She didn't move her lips but I could hear her.
You know that you're going to kill yourself if you keep this up right?
I knew. I nodded my head.
Please stop. Please.
I knew I couldn't so I shook my head. Tears began welling up in her eyes. She reached out and put her hand against my face, gently stroking it.
If anything happened to you, I would feel responsible. You can't put me through that... If you won't stop for yourself, at least stop for me. Please?
She did
n't understand. She couldn’t. I was beyond stopping. I couldn't ever go back. She buried her face in my chest, sobbing. My heart broke as her tears flowed. I pulled her closer, placing my hand on the back of her head, gently running my fingers through her wavy hair. She started shivering. I could feel how cold she was through her clothing.
Please stop... I'm so cold. Don't you care?
I didn't know how to tell her how sorry I was. I just pressed her tighter to me, hoping to warm her. Her fingers were ice against my face and she shakily lifted her head from my chest. Frost had formed on her eyelashes, little frozen rivers of tears streaked her face, smearing the little makeup she wore.
The bright clear blue skies had disappeared, completely gone and replaced with blackness. Each individual blade of grass dug into me through my clothes, they pierced my flesh and blood seeped out, warming the grass around me. Ironically, the bleeding was helping me get more comfortable.
Please stop. I'm so cold babe...
I always liked when she called me that.
Please...
Her voice faded into the openness that now surrounded us. Sunken in eyes longingly gazed into infinity, her chocolate irises contrasted starkly against her pale white face. I moved my hand up to my face, starting to go numb from the chill of her fingers, and placed it over her own hand.
I squeezed her hand tight, vainly attempting to transfer some warmth back to her, and instead heard a loud snap. She moved her eyes to the spot where her hand was and they opened wide. Her fingers had snapped off from her hand and now lay in the palm of mine. I looked back to her and she opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Fissures formed along her face, spreading from where her top and bottom lip met, splitting her face in two. The sickening crunch reverberated from her entire body, completely frozen solid, fracturing from within until she shattered in my arms. Crystals of ice lay where she had just been a minute ago, her fingers still in the palm of my hand.
My tears froze instantly and I rolled out from underneath what was left of her broken body. The only thing even recognizable was the top of her face just above her nose, her eyes still frozen in horror at the transformation she had undergone just moments before.
I bolted upright, heart pounding. There was fabric under my hand. My ceiling replaced the black, open, endless space. I was in my living room. I looked around to make sure everything was as it should be. My heart started slowing down until I realized I was shivering and could see my breath.
My heart started beating much faster than before.
Chapter 8
I shook uncontrollably from the frigid climate in my house. My fingers were already a light shade of blue. I rubbed them together and leapt up from the couch towards the thermostat down the hallway.
Door slams shut, endless mirrors...
The images flashed into my head and I felt dizzy again. I steadied myself on the wall to keep from falling. It felt like ice. With shaking hands I inspected the thermostat. 75 degrees? I don't think so. I tapped on it but nothing happened. I went into my bedroom and looked through my closet for a jacket. Various articles of clothing were scattered all about, nothing was in order. Just like everything else. I knocked clothes hangers aside frantically, searching for something to fight the cold. It pierced me to my core, nipping at my exposed skin, making it painful to even touch anything. It must be below freezing. My teeth chattered and I stepped over the threshold into the closet to look for anything that would help with the cold.
A long-sleeve shirt. That works I guess. I removed it from the hanger and I was about to put it over my head, but the fabric started to droop through my fingers like putty. It stretched and stretched the more I tried to grab at it, finally hitting the floor with a wet plopping sound. I let the rest of the goop fall from my hands, dumbstruck. I was too cold to process what had just happened though, I would deal with it later so I reached for the next shirt I saw, watching again as it turned into goop faster than the first.
Creeeooooooooocccccshhheerrrrrr!!!!!!!!!
The closet door slammed shut in my face. It was pitch black but I could feel the different shirts and pants melting from their hangers onto me like taffy, dripping down my shoulders and running down my arms. I slammed my fist into the door hoping to break through but it was useless. The cold made the pain ten times worse and I was pretty sure I split my knuckle, not that I could see that though.
The walls creaked and I turned my back to the door. The doughy mess of what was once my clothes rose over my ankles and up my legs. It was difficult to move through, what I imagined quicksand would be. The clothes that hadn't fallen from their hangers were getting pushed onto my face. It took me a moment to realize it at first, but the walls were closing in.
It took a great deal of effort but I was able to turn to face the door again, desperately bashing it with my fists to no avail. The walls closed in more and more, pushing the sludge of clothes up past my knees. I shoved myself into the door with my shoulders with everything I had but it wouldn’t give.
A crushing weight on the top of my skull let me know the ceiling was coming down as well. I ducked down but couldn't go very far, the clothes were already chest high. In a last ditch attempt, I tilted my neck up, my cheek pressed against the collapsing ceiling and struggled to keep my head above the muck, until at last I couldn't breathe.
The scent of stale laundry filled my nose and mouth and the pressure from the walls began crushing my bones. My spine was compacted and shot through my back and out the top of my neck. My head popped like a grape in between two fingers.
My a r m s f o l d e d i n o n t h e m s e l v e s . . . . .. . . . . . . …
Chapter 9
Coffee table. Television. Television stand. Sofa. Kitchen pantry. Sink. Refrigerator. Details details details details details details. I ticked off each one, rummaging through my memory to make sure the images I saw matched correctly.
I had fallen off the couch and my head hurt, probably hit the edge of the coffee table. I felt the top of my head and winced as my fingers timidly rubbed the lump that had already formed. The clock read 12:37 P.M. I had been out for almost two hours. Adrenaline was still coursing through my body and my limbs were trembling.
What was happening to me?
My body felt like it had gone through battle, I was exhausted. Imaginary weights were strapped to my arms and legs and even breathing was a chore. I picked myself up from the floor, cramped aching muscles screaming at me for making them work.
I put one foot in front of the other and lost balance, falling into a heap on the floor. I stayed there for a moment, dazed, in pain, and feeling utterly helpless. I managed to pull myself onto my hands and knees and crawled down the hallway. It stretched on and on, seeming to get longer and longer as I crawled on my path. It took me a second to notice the blood trail my hands and knees were making as I crawled over the glass, each time I set a hand on it, cracks formed and the glass dug into me like razors. I couldn't hardly keep pressing on from the...
No. There was no glass. Hallways aren’t made from glass dammit.
I stopped and half rolled into a seated position against the wall. I turned both palms up to my face to make sure there was no blood. Before I even knew it, tears were running down my face and I pressed my hands to my eyes trying to stop the streams from flowing. I barreled over, shaking, and I slammed my fists into the ground, coughing and crying and coughing from crying. I don't remember the last time I cried. I didn't even think I had ever cried at all.
When I finished, I was completely drained. I just sat there, head against the wall, unable to move and not even wanting to. I couldn't remember what I was even trying to do when I began making my way down the hall. What was it...? I don't know. It took me a minute to even remember what day it was. Friday. It was Friday. And today I was supposed to meet her at... What time? Fuck! Trying to navigate my memory was like tryingtoreadasentencewithnopuctuationorbreaksorstartsorstopsanditjustranonandonlikeatangledmessofnonsensethaticouldntevenbegint
osortoutifitriedij ust felt like I was running in circles, never moving forward, passing by familiar scenery but never able to place where I had seen it from.
Two! Two o' clock is when I was supposed to meet her. What time was it? I couldn't see the clock from my spot in the hallway. With the last bit of energy I had, I crawled to my room on my hands and knees and pulled myself over to my nightstand to prop myself up. The clock read 1:03 P.M.
I had enough time to take a shower and clean myself up a bit before I had to meet her. I couldn't let her see me like this. She thought she was worried before...
Just you wait...
I was going to walk to my closet and look for something to wear, but the memory of being crushed by the walls in some sort of clothing goop, bones breaking, spine coming out from the top of my neck, shins shooting through my knee cap, head being crushed...
I closed my eyes and took a breath before going to my dresser instead. I had a clean, plain navy-blue shirt in the top drawer and a pair of black jeans in the middle drawer. Boxers in the fourth drawer along with socks.
A shower would help. Showers always helped me clear my head, if only for a bit, and the hot water would relax my aching muscles.
I set my new clothes on the counter and turned the faucet on in the tub, pulled the little hammer up on the faucet and the water began spraying out of the shower head. I undressed and stuck my hand under the water, satisfied that it was hot enough for me, and stepped in. I liked my showers hot enough to the point of turning my skin pink. It felt good inhaling the steam, and the water rejuvenated my aching body as it ran over me. This was the one place I truly felt relaxed. I felt safe in the shower for some reason, I don't know why. It was like the world went away for a while so I could just take a break and let my head slow down. I don't even know how I drag myself out of the shower unless I've stayed in so long the water was going cold on me. I never had the motivation to leave a hot shower. I was warm, I was relaxed, I was in my safe place. My head was quieter and everything just seemed less important.
Depths Page 4