The Quiet Room 3

      The world comes alive around me with the buzzing bee’s hum, but I don’t open my eyes. Please let something be different.
      No more white. No more white. No more white.

Slowly, I lift my eyelids and peek through the forest of eyelashes. Passed the thick darkness is the one thing I dreaded. My insides quake and I want to just lie down and die; destroy this place They’ve put me in; cry my insides out.
      Yes, that would make a real mess.
I squeeze my eyes shut tight and dig my fingernails into the rough carpet. A pulsating twinge of pain tingles through my fingers and the events previous of my awakening swamps me.


Red.


      Blue eyes.


More red.


Even with my eyes shut so tight the white around me still seems to gush through. Fine. I give up. As long as that voice doesn’t come back… Opening my eyes carefully to the blanched room I sit up. Spots drift in and out of my vision for a few moments and I take the time to sort thoughts. Pale blue eyes are the first thing that comes to mind, those feathery eyes that had hovered above me as hands fixed my mess.
      Who was it?
I could swear I had seen them before; they’re unmistakable. The image fly’s away with the birds and more memories of past dance into my brain. Being held close in the chill of fall; leaves flutter to the ground in varying hues of orange. In utter amazement of how beautiful the world can be, I watch. The arms around me tighten; lips graze my hair, words whispered lovingly.
      A dull green handle of a knife, the razor blade glimmering in dull light shining from a bedside lamp. I see my hands shake. The knife shivers on my skin. Hiccup.
      Memory vanishes.

“—You don’t need her.”

      No! Not his voice again! My eyes close.


Maybe I should just think about the words I’m hearing.


      You’re okay… You’re okay…


Alright. Well, who’s ‘her’? ‘Her’ could be anybody. Absolutely anybody. The general questions are hurting my head.
      Finally, I rise from the floor and look around. The blooming flower of maroon blemishes the bleached floor and the cracks’ fingers still reach. It looks as though some creature is trying to escape; I can relate to that. Maybe I am a creature. Maybe I’m not even human. Bringing my hands from my sides I lift them to my face and inspect the white bandages encircling them.


      White.


Of course they’re white. Everything is white. As I examine my hands I contemplate this obscure thought of mine. Creature… Creature… You don’t need her.


“Yes I do.” I say aloud. Words in this empty room sound ominous and unearthly. “I need her. Don’t ever tell me I don’t.”


      His eyes surge past mine and the white-bandaged hands before me tremble. In bits, he reveals his face to me. Strong nose, firm jaw line, the thin line of his lips; they part.

“What made you think, even for a second, that you needed her?” His transparent eyes bore into mine.

      I swallow my fear and continue.


“I will always need her. Who are you?” My voice quivers and I’m still unaware of who I’m talking about, or to who for that matter.


      His face crumples into a mass of lines and he cackles at me. This mans’ lips move, but I can’t hear the words.


“What are you saying?” I yelp. “Please! Don’t leave yet!” But the image shrivels.