Dear Flick

Day Four

2004

"Flick!" I screamed in terror as the man whom I thought I knew stood in the bathroom, a knife pressed against his own throat. I dropped the glass of water I was carrying, making it shatter on the ground. I heard JT hiss in the distance.

"Je ne peux pas le faire," He started, clear tears making their way down the plains of his cheeks. "I can't do it anymore, Magdalena. I know you could live a happier life if I were dead."

"Flick, slow down...dr-drop the knife, okay?" I approached him slowly, "That's not true and you know it. Just drop..."

Before I could speak another word, Flick uttered a 'Je t'aime, bébé fille' and dragged his knife sharply across his neck, slicing a deep cut into the flesh. Crimson blood began to leak onto the white tile, and that was the last of any life I saw in Flick's eyes before they fell, cold and dead. He collapsed onto the ground with a sickening thud.

"Thomas!" I screamed, my knees buckling and giving out on me as I fell into the pool of blood, gripping him up into my arms and weeping over his lifeless corpse.

Dear Flick,

I do hope that we die together. Sometime long after our nuptials, when we have lived and loved each other for long enough. I'd like to die first in your arms, and you right after kissing me goodnight. To die will be such a journey, don't you think?

Your little forest nymph,

Miss Macey Arlo

My eyes shot open, and I nearly jolted upwards. My curls stuck to the cold sweat that coated my forehead; I was panting like a dog, holding the covers up to my neck and clutching them like a little child. My eyes shifted to my left side, and there lay Thomas Flick Beauchamp, peacefully sleeping. He was alive.

"Babygirl?" I heard him grumble, pushing himself closer to me and slinging a gangly arm over my middle. "Baby, you okay?"

I looked down at him and noticed that his eyes were open, half lidded and staring at me in an understood mild confusion. "I had the worst dream..." I whimpered, snuggling below the sheets further. Warmly, I pressed my ear to his chest and reveled in the sound of his heartbeat. It was all I needed in that moment, the sweet comfort in knowing that my lover was okay, alive, his heart pumping blood through his chest.

There was a pause.

"I'm okay," I sighed. "I just had another night terror...it felt so...real."

Stroking my hair, he mumbled an "oh," and pat the back of my head gently. "Well..." He groaned, "everything's okay now. You're alive."

"No...you are." I sighed, pulling away from him and sitting up, hunched over and still in a cold sweat.

"What?" He inquired, "I thought you always died in your terrors?"

"Well, this time it was you, Flick!" I affirmed, my hands gripping onto my forehead in distress. "You killed yourself right in front of me, you took a knife to your throat. You know how I am with my dreams, I always feel like they're gonna come true." Grumbling, I fell back onto the mattress and turned to face him. Looking back at me with his grey eyes, he leaned forward and kissed my lips softly.

"They never do though, do they?" He whispered. "We're always okay, right? They're just dreams, Mace, mind movies played up by your night thoughts." He slipped a hand below my cheek and stroked his thumb over my skin, wiping away any tears that were left there. "You've given me a taste for life, Mace. Something...completely indescribable, at least with my vocabulary." He laughed. "You really think I..I'd just leave you? Leave James Taylor? You think I'd just throw away everything we built like that?" He inquired, his voice now hoarse and sad. "What kind of man do you think I am? Listen to me, Macey. This isn't over for me. I still have faith in us, I still think our story has so many chapters left in it. Don't you think so, too?"

I was, at first, silent. I relished in the warm touch of his skin against mine, and slowly I closed my eyes and nodded my head. "Yes," I whispered, "yes I do, Flick."

Dear Flick,
Lately I have been having some pretty crazy night terrors. I understand how that sounds, you probably think I'm going completely MENTAL. Lunatic Macey is back at it again! No, but really, they're starting to affect my life and work. In most, if not all, I end up dying some crazy death in the end. It's unsettling for me. Remember when I explained to you what a santera was, and how it ran in my family for women to be santeras? Well, you know I don't fully believe in all that, BUT hear me out. I feel like my dreams are gonna become reality. I feel like it's just...a matter of time before some freak accident rips me away from you. I've been being extra careful lately, to avoid any of that. Promise me that if I die, you'll take care of James Taylor?

Your plum,
Miss Macey Arlo

Of all the nights Flick held me tight, it was that night that he held me tightest. (And his eyes shone the brightest.)