5:00 PM, Hospital
Dearest Anna,
Don’t worry about waiting up for me. I have a feeling this will be a long night. I’ll see you tomorrow.
Love,
Will
4:00 AM, Villa Avenue
It’s four am and, not for the first time, I’m wishing I could sleep through the night. I’m wishing the pills would do their job. And so, I pick up a pencil and paper. I don’t write, not anymore, but I might as well try. I’m still alone, for the time being. My pencil is scratching the paper, and as the words blur together I can feel a slight tip tapping in the back of my mind. Someone’s there, a presence hovering at the very back of my consciousness. My pencil scratches harder, as if the meaningless words overflowing onto the paper will keep my thoughts at bay. He’s still here, coming ever so slightly closer. I see two drunk teenagers sitting on a bathroom floor, one of them falling very deeply in love. Get out. Not here, not now. I need to rest, but he’s not leaving. I see them again, picking fruit together on a Sunday afternoon. The image is shifting so fast. Watching the stars together, naming a constellation. Little did I know it would become the only constellation I ever see. The nightshade is blooming everywhere he steps, and I can’t even recognise any of the words on my paper. My consciousness becomes his playground, using my medial forebrain tract as a slide. Rich purple flowers keep blooming. Words morph into lines, lines find their way into drawings. The images keep flashing, like a reel before my eyes. I’m a television screen, and he keeps changing the channel. The nightshade keeps blooming, and I could be imagining it but the air is becoming thick and spongy. I see a monster, a hideous configuration of my worst qualities. I don’t know if I’ll make it through the night. My lungs feel like they’re filled with packing peanuts, and the images keep flashing. He’s not laughing anymore.
4:30 AM, Hospital
Dearest Anna,
What a night. We’ve had another case, it appears to have been suicide. Nightshade growing all over the house, but it looks like it was strangulation. It’s been a long night, I’ll be home soon.
Love,
Will
Literary Musings 