Venom

2: To Dance As If One Is Prey

It was never the same dream more than twice, but it always had the same ending. Me dying. Horrific wounds covering my body and the sound of silence, so profound it terrified me. There was only white but I knew not to expect heavens gates for my soul.

But standing over my body, even in death I was not free, something still tied me to this world and so to this world I returned.

Never in the same time period of course. That would be far too much luck for me. It was also far too much luck to be able to tell reality from that which was not.

It was always me dying, standing over my body and reliving a different life. And then it was me sleeping and dreaming of me dying and starting a different life. Was I awake now, or did I simply dream of myself awakening? I always stand and watch, never moving as I watch myself move.

I watched my death with bleak interest, knowing fully well by now that I could not change my fate in this gloomy place of dreams. I also knew my killers face would always be a bridge length away from my sight. How ironic, to be the one with will and still not be strong enough to control that which I prided myself with at some point.

How do I find my reality in this world of dreams? Always standing. Never moving. Almost like a statue.

If I stand still, will I too, turn to stone?

My eyes were open before the choked gasp passed my lips, cold sweat trailed down my forehead. I sat up slowly, my heart dancing to a beat my mind could not remember, adrenaline pumping through me. Looking around the darkened room, only the setting sun illuminated the poorly decorated room. Chills caused my limbs to tremble faintly, goosebumps raised along the exposed flesh.

Shuffling toward the end of the bed I let my legs hang, feet pushing firmly against the rough carpet. I dropped my head into my hands. I felt my curls fall from over my shoulder, hanging like a heavy curtain. Shutting my eyes tightly, I forced myself to exhale. It took a few seconds but my pulse began to calm.

Lifting my head I stared blankly ahead at the rustic red wall, a small square tv sat on an old wooden stand. Mer minutes I looked and yet it could have been hours, trying to shake off whatever had awoken me from my sleep. I stood, stretching out my muscles before checking the time on the old clock in the room.

I still had another day in the room. Walking over to my duffel bag I fished out my jean jacket and slipped it on. Digging into my pocket I found a folded slip of paper.

It was foolish of me, to spend money I was running out of on something so momentary. Staring at the entrance ticket I smiled to myself. Stuffing it into my jeans I walked back to the bed and reached under to put on my white converse. Once they were nice and tight I went into the bathroom. Blinded by the sudden light in the room I blinked at my reflection until I could see myself clearly.

Mumbling under my breath I leaned forward to look at the shadows under my eyes. Thankfully they weren't noticeable with my golden dark complexion, only if someone really looked for it. Leaning away I removed the hair band from my wrist and tied my shoulder-length curls back into a high ponytail. There was something not quiet right yet, with all of my hair pulled back you could see my slightly lifted cheekbones, the freckles that covered my wide button-like nose and cheeks, my dark eyes looking to slightly glossy. I looked far to young when I truly wasn't. Or perhaps I was. Sometimes when I looked into my eyes I wasn't sure.