Holy Ground

2

Keep it in your bedroom museum
We'll trash the place to keep it clean
I'll bury it with my dog in the yard
Paste it up on four little walls
Your attic and the hallowed halls
Echo with whatever we'll discard
They took our tree to the burning yard
We took our chances with counting cards
I dial and dial but you don't hear a thing
These aren't just words to toss around,
But we'll build a house to burn it down,
We'll carve it in your bedpost like it's scripture
Cause it's only gonna kill you if you let it,
But you're only gonna win if you're betting
Facedown on your bedroom floor
How sweet the sound, how clean and pure
Save it for a teenaged mausoleum
Hungrier than ever before
But i don't dare to ask for more
The years go by; dilute it with a scream
Scattered on the holy ground
We'll build a house and burn it down,
We'll carve it in your bedpost like it's scripture
Blink, you'll miss her
On your wedding day, won't you save me a card?
One day, we'll be
Living in the same old city
And i'll say "let's start a band"
And mean it really
You can kick a girl while she's down
I'm sure that i'll see you around
Don't tell me you've forgotten
How it feels to be an optimist,
Come here, won't you give me a kiss goodbye?
It never won't make my father cry
But it's only gonna kill you if you let it,
You're always gonna win what you're betting

Dana looked out the back window of the trailer they were staying in. The creaky bed took up most of the room, she felt crowded. The neighbor's dog was running circles in the yard, closely watched by its owner, who was smoking in a lawn chair. Mulder was off doing something. She was kept in the trailer like a precious doll— he was convinced someone would hurt her. It became harder and harder to protest, so she circled around and around in the halls of her mind, far away from wherever they were.

Her most prized memories revolved around two people. Two people she'd never see again. William and Monica. Nestled in her memory, she cherished the moments she remembered the strongest. It had become almost domestic, the three of them. But it was over. Someone had taken it all away. Dana was still unsure who to blame— who she wanted to blame. Things had been stretched thin anyway by the time she had met Monica. By the time she had delivered her son. But instead of being jaded, she tuned into Monica's mindset and took chances. It didn't pan out.

She stared at the disconnected landline on the bedside table. She had no communication with anyone. Every internet plug, every phone line, even some of the doorbells, were disconnected. She picked up the phone and mimed Monica's number several times before placing it back on the receiver. She'd never hear from her again. Even if Mulder would let her, would she even want to? She wondered what Monica was doing. Was she alone? With someone else? Smiling? Dana hadn't smiled in months.

She laid down on the bed now, staring up at the stained ceiling. Water damage. She remembered a late night she had with Monica— laying on her bedroom floor after a few too many glasses of wine. Monica was singing— Lovefool by The Cardigans. She couldn't remember the exact reason, but she had a nice voice, even through giggle fits. Laughing along made her feel young again. There was no way to describe how she felt around Monica. It was like they were fated to meet, fated for friendship, fated to love each other. Her heart soared around Monica— and she would never ask for a thing more than what Monica was. Because Monica was perfect.

Dana felt like screaming. The feeling came over her often, but today it was bad. It would drown out the monotony and loneliness of every day. But she couldn't. She saw the cliffs explode on the last day they were together. The house that had been hidden deep in the cave smoldering. The home they had built within each other burned down that day, too. All the love notes, kisses, sex, laughs, smiles, all burned away. It would never be like that again. In the blink of an eye, every moment they held, carved into their bedposts, written on the notepad on the refrigerator, scrawled in one of William's coloring books, was gone.

Imagining Monica's future pained her. Could she ever move on? It felt impossible. Who was she with? Is she smiling with someone new? She so desperately wished for a sign. Another card. Another voicemail. To hear her say Dana again. William. If they were in the same place, would she still say I love you? And mean it?

She remembered the last car ride they had together. It was strange. Monica's eyes were hollow. She felt off. When they stood in her living room, she looked at Monica, who seemed defeated.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten how to be an optimist." Her voice sounded desperate, almost scared as the words came out of her mouth. Monica just shook her head and kissed her goodbye. It felt too final. She cried under her covers after that.

She heard the dog bark outside of her trailer. Taking a deep breath, she focused on deluding herself to accept her current situation. Letting the darkness in her mind win wouldn't do anything to help her.