In Your Dreams

8.

"You don't have to take this."

She spoke softly to them as she sutured up a long deep gash on one of their arms. Oh, I was dreaming again by the way. After a long 36 hour shift I was finally pushed out the door and told to go home and sleep. The dream was just like before. Everything was in black and white, with the exception of her. She was in the shack by the river with the same group of women. I still didn't know who 'he' was and what he did to them, but she seemed both angry and fearful, but not of her own life so much as theirs.

"We can't leave." A woman in the back of the shack said "We can't."

"You can." She pleaded "You just have to walk away."

"He will find us."

"You will die." Meredith muttered "You will die."

"We keep him happy, and he is kind to us."

"Really?" Meredith scoffed as she held up the woman's mangled arm "Is this kind?"

"Sara got out of line."

"I did." She nodded "I got out of line."

"You're not his children." Meredith said "You're women. Your life is meaningful."

"It's meaningful to him." She said "We know you don't understand. It's alright."

"It makes it hard to do this." Meredith mumbled "It makes it hard to do something that's not going to get better."

"You can go." The woman called Sara said "We would understand."

Meredith was quiet for a long five minutes as she finished the sutures and cleaned the area around the wound. She looked like she was thinking deeply on something, like she was torn. I didn't have to know her well, or be inside her head to know that she had already made her decision. But she knew the safe option, she knew what she should do. And that choice was leaving her uneasy and not at peace. She finally looked up at them.

"I can't turn my back."

They all looked as if they were about to answer when a growl outside interrupted their thoughts. They all looked at Meredith as if they were warning her to run or hide. She got up quickly and slipped in the shadow behind the door of the shack. I felt the hair on my arms stand as the doorknob turned and a large hairy man stumbled in. All the women shrieked a gasp and jumped as he forced himself in the door. It was apparent that he was drunk, and angry, perhaps this was the him who was hurting everyone. I wanted Meredith gone, I wanted her out of there. But this was a dream, it was her past.

"Who did this!" he demanded as he pulled Sara up by her wounded arm, she screamed in pain. "Tell me!"

"I..I did." The strong one in the corner stepped out and said "I did it master."

"Liar!" he yelled and smacked his back hand across her cheek. She cried out in pain as she hit the ground.

They all started shaking and trembling as he looked at each of them for an answer. His breath was heaving with anger and his eyes bulging for an answer. I saw a hint of blue step out from the shadow in the doorway and I wanted to scream. She raised something above her head and one of the women screamed as it came crashing down on the back of his head. The giant hairy man went crashing to the floor as she stepped out into the moonlight and dropped the shovel in her hand.

"Come on!" Meredith pleaded "You're free to go, come!"

The women all stared up at her with pointless expressions and then glanced down at their abuser. It was the choice between what they knew and freedom that came with unknown attachments. One by one they all knelt down next to their abuser and started to softly place hands of affection on him, as if he'd never raised a hand or unkind word against them. I could almost feel the same kick in the gut feeling that Meredith was experiencing in that moment, or had experienced. How frustrating it must have been to spend hours of knowledge and strain in helping those that never wanted to be helped.

She grabbed her jump bag and hesitated a moment, giving the women one last glance before turning to make her run across the river and through the woods to her car in the hospital parking lot. I heard a soft gasp and I couldn't tell if it was from the run or if she were crying. I could imagine it was the later, as Mark said, she got a high off of helping people. But most people who came to her for help wanted it. She got in her car just as the rain started pouring down.

She turned the car on and closed her eyes as her hands gripped the leather steering wheel. Her head was resting against the headrest and she was humming some sort of classical Christmas tune that matched the one coming out of the cd player. She breathed in deeply and then turned her head towards the passenger seat and opened her eyes. They bored through me, I felt goose bumps, it was as if she was staring right at me. And then she mumbled two words that would forever challenge me.

"Help me."