Afterlife: Reincarnation

30

July 5

LANE

This was it. No one could tell me otherwise. I was convinced, completely and unequivocally, that there was no better feeling in the universe than this one right here, right now. My body responded to the feeling, my head falling back, my eyes closing as a deep sigh fell from my lips. It was exquisite, this feeling.

Something I had done so many times, and yet, for some reason this time was different. This time, it felt so much more incredible. My body was almost limp, and I had to force myself to stay upright, to keep myself alert. But I just wanted to sag, and give in to the feeling.

How in the world could a shower feel this fucking amazing?

I had long ago grown accustom to the lack of warm water, relishing in the cool trickle that fell from the makeshift shower head. In turn, I had learned to ignore the less than private nature of our bathing quarters, my nakedness shielded by only a wooden fence. It was funny, almost, how you learned to accommodate, change to your setting. Months before this entire set up freaked me out, my shy nature wanting to hide away from the public communal bathrooms. Now, I didn't give a single shit. I just loved the feeling of this water, still cool, but soothing against my heated skin. I loved washing away the days work, the dirt and the sweat. But mostly, in recent weeks, I loved the feeling that I was washing away the memories that still plagued me. I wasn't, of course, since the images in my mind were still there. They were less, mind you. Not nearly as often, or quite as haunting. But I couldn't help but wonder if I was ever going to be able to go through a day where I didn't think of that night. Where I didn't smell the smoke and the death, and I didn't hear the screams.

Would I ever feel normal again?

Quickly, I pushed my wayward thoughts away. I was becoming better at pushing them back when they encroached on my mind. It was a habit now, the moment they surfaced, to battle them back, emptying my mind. The only time I couldn't seem to follow through with this practice was at night, in my dreams, which all too frequently turned to nightmares.

I would awake, frightened and crying, clinging to the edges of my small bed. I would struggle to breathe, feeling as if  weight was crushing down on me. The darkness of my room would feel overwhelming, the only light being from the moon outside my small window.

Slowly, I would calm, consciously pushing back the images in my mind, taking control again. I would immediately turn my thoughts to home, of my family, and of Harry. I would think of all the things I loved, all the things I had waiting for me upon my return. The practice would sooth me, and drive away my fear, but also cause me a different kind of pain.

A longing. I longed for Harry in a way I had never longed for anyone. It was funny to me, how much I wanted him, when we had never even been together before. Not really. My feelings were real, of that I had no doubt. But the intensity was an oddity, since our relationship had been anything but traditional. It was a strange concept, in a way, to rationalize.

He was the one thing that help me in my darkest nights, to drive away the fear and the memories. In my days, contrary, it had been Neil as my distraction. Or, at least, my commiserator. He had been there, both that night and with nights similar in his past. He understood the impact of such an event, as well as the mixed feelings of pride laced with impotence. That you helped some, but not enough. That you were there, but felt useless.

Most nights in recent weeks we had taken to sitting at a table in the food hut, drinking and talking. Rarely was it about that night, or any night similar, but it helped. Even to just deep down know someone else understood. That someone else was there as well, made a difference in my head.