Chapter 5
Ever since that life-altering event when I was eighteen, I've been spiraling deeper and deeper into the abyss of despair.
Four years of drowning myself in alcohol, four years of numbing the pain, drifting through life in a haze.
So it came as no surprise when I was diagnosed with liver cancer.
This was always how it was going to end.
Living or dying, it's all the same to me now.
I curled up by the bed.
Sobbing, I drank, letting the tears mix with the alcohol.
The pain was so intense that I vomited a mouthful of blood.
I wiped my eyes and went right back to drinking.
Eventually, the tears wore me out and I drifted off.
In my dream, the day was bright and beautiful.
Under a clear blue sky, eighteen-year-old Charles stood in front of a wall of roses.
His golden hair shone in the sunlight, his blue eyes clear and bright, and he was cradling a tiny white kitten in his arms.
He grinned at me.
"Hey, you, I see you feeding it every day. Is it looking for you?" Charles asked.
*****
The dream shifted.
A rainy night. A dimly lit alley.
I had wrapped up my tutoring gig and was heading home.
Lightning split the sky, and the rain was cold.
Suddenly, someone pressed a hand over my mouth and dragged me to the back of the alley.
Three or four men jumped me.
Their heavy breathing, their dirty hands.
The pressure was suffocating.
They slapped tape over my mouth and pinned down my arms and legs.
The air was thick and suffocating.
I was completely immobilized.
But I wanted to fight back, no matter what.
I had no tears left to cry.
No one was coming to save me.
I lay there in silence.
I could only stare numbly at the black sky above me.
In my dream, I didn't scream or cry.
I gazed up at the sky, hollow inside.
Then a hoarse roar cut through the silence.
Charles charged into the rain.
His eyes were red, his phone shaking in his hand as he yelled: "Back off. Get away. I've called the police!"
The world suddenly felt light and unreal.
Charles helped me up from the filthy, muddy ground and awkwardly wrapped his coat around me.
Rain hit my face.
I couldn't tell if it was rain or Charles's tears.
I reached out and gently wiped Charles's face.
I asked in a hoarse voice: "Charlie, why are you crying?"
*****
I was jolted awake by someone.
When I opened my eyes, Charles was there, right in front of me.
It was like he'd walked out of my dream.
He leaned down and gently placed his hand on my forehead.
His eyes were bloodshot.
He used to always look clean-cut, but now there was stubble on his face, and he looked totally worn out and a mess.
I blinked, confused, not sure if I was still dreaming.
I mumbled."Charlie... when did you get so ugly?"
He didn't smile. He gripped my hand tightly.
He frantically pushed up my pant leg.
"Where did this blood come from? Did you hurt yourself again?" he asked.
His cold fingers closed around my ankle.
I recoiled, instinctively pushing him away.
His voice caught in his throat, choked with emotion.
Charlie asked, his voice trembling, "Emmy, didn't you promise me you'd stop doing this?"
So this was real.
It wasn't a dream.
I looked around.
Bottles lay toppled and shattered across the floor, glass everywhere.
Dark red blood had spread out, and my pajama top was speckled with crimson.
Oh.
He thought I'd hurt myself again.
I tried to steady myself and forced a weak smile.
"When did you get back?" I asked.
"How come you're always here when I'm a mess?" I added.