The dream tore through my sense of reality, and as I ran, I lost control over my life. The blackness surrounded me, of that I was certain.There was no escaping it. No more turns to make, no more going back. All that I ran to was my last and final dead end. But what was I running from? My consciousness told me that nothing physical put me in danger, but in my current state of mind, that was hardly comforting. My emotions took hold, and I found myself drowning in their complexities. Anger, frustration, hurt, betrayal and desperation laced through my bloodstream, and my soul wept. I wanted comfort. I wanted to be loved, and held, and told everything would be okay. And so I wondered, perhaps it was no longer a question of what I was running from, but rather, what did I run to? The darkness grew stronger, and I stood immobilized as it suffocated me within it's depths, unable to prevent the inevitable.
Fresh oxygen flooded into my system as I awoke with a start, feeling a burn scorch down my dry throat with each sharp intake of air. I ran to my bathroom in panic, hoping fresh water could rid me of the after effects of a nightmare that had followed me into reality. With haste the tap was opened and cool water flowed into my hands. The moment a million droplets of water hit my face, my lungs relinquished their hold on my intake of oxygen, and I could breathe freely. As though still asleep, the burn in my throat remained ever present and painful. I drank from the faucet with only partial relief. Once the pain became bearable, I looked up to meet the eyes of my reflection painted onto the mirror in front of me.
My gaze unwavering, I shut the tap and took in my appearance. My long brown hair hung past my shoulders, heavy and knotted after a restless sleep. My cheeks were void of my natural blush, something I'd rarely witnessed. But what surprised me beyond my bedraggled appearance were the traces of tears running from my emerald green eyes. The web of tears ran down past my cheeks, my soft chin, right along my neck. Had I cried? Signs pointed to yes, but how was that so?
Just a nightmare, I told myself. Not real. Get a grip on yourself. I wiped away the tears, hoping they wouldn't return. Sighing, I turned away from the image of my body and walked back into my room, the pain and dryness ever present in my sensitive throat. Following whatever sense of normalcy that I had left, I headed towards the bay window that filled a major part of the wall situated to the left side of my bed. I reached for the blinds, and squinted as painfully bright lights filled my otherwise dark room. I'd awoken much earlier than usual, and yet the early morning rays of the sunrise were strong enough to leave me seeing white as I closed my eyes out of reflex.
A string of short profanities left my mouth as I sat back onto the comfort of my bed. What was wrong with me? What was going on? I had felt perfectly healthy last night. I'd gone out for supper with my mother, father and brother, and even watched a movie with them before heading to bed for the night. Everything had been normal, the same as usual. I pondered for a few more moments, wondering if it was possible that I'd contracted some form of flu or bacteria from the restaurant. That didn't seen likely, but it was the only possibility that I could think of.
Sighing, I stood up, unsure whether I was prepared for the upcoming day. As I walked towards the door that led into the hallway that connected to the other other two bedrooms on the second floor, I noticed something was off. My door stood wide open, something I'd always made sure never to let happen. Ignoring the unease growing at the pit of my stomach, I walked through the doorway, shutting my door behind me and heading towards the stairs that led to the lower floors instead.
It was then that the feeling of unease could no longer be ignored. On the carpet below my feet were clear imprints of footsteps leading to and from my room, which also led towards my brother's room, as well as my parent's room. I felt as though a weight had been dropped into my feet, preventing my mobility. I swallowed hard, feeling the discomfort in my throat disappear momentarily before returning stronger than before. One heavy step after another, I walked to the door closest to my own. Unsure of what I'd find behind my brother's door, I knew one thing for certain. Someone had been in the house. Someone who shouldn't have been.
My hand trembled over the door nob. I closed my eyes, wishing nothing would be amiss. The door gave way under the pressure I applied, and I blew a great sigh of relief as I took in the image of my older brother sleeping soundly in his bed, his covers wrapped madly around his vulnerable body. And yet, the feeling of discomfort remained. All was not well. I closed my brothers door silently, trying not to wake him up.
One down, one to go, I whispered to myself mentally.
It took less time for me to reach my parents room that it had for me to reach my brother's, perhaps because I was feeling a bit more relaxed. My brother had appeared perfect as always, why would my parents be any different?
Only when I opened their bedroom door did I let out scream so piercing that my voice broke under it's terrible strain.
*********************************************
I choked.
I gagged.
I couldn't stop.
My insides were on fire, rejecting all that had previously been in my system.
I felt my brothers arm wrap itself around me as I bent down once more to fill the bucket held weakly between my arms and hands. When I felt as though my stomach had relaxed to a degree to which I could move again, I chanced a glance at my brother. Tears dripped from his handsome face, dropped from his cheeks and down onto the hard gray pavement below. I knew at that moment that he was my everything. I'd never give him up, never let him go. If I did, I'd lose everything. We'd lose each other, and then there would be nothing else to live for but a death that would put an end to this pain that seemed unending otherwise. I blinked, and the image of what I'd seen my parents become flashed before my eyes.
I lurched sharply, and once again my stomach emptied itself. Why? How could this happen? We lived in a good neighborhood, built amid other houses of great stature with a bloc of land to match. We were all respectable families who worked hard for their lives, and yet that was not enough. What had set my family apart? I felt the pressure around my sides tighten, and I looked up, wondering why. Police officers dressed entirely in white body suits emerged from the front door holding multiple bags containing the broken remains of my parents.
I couldn't take it.
This pain.
This suffering.
It tore me up inside.
Part of me wished that whoever had done this to my parents had have done the same to me, so that I could escape this devastation. But a bigger part of my consciousness told me that that was wrong and selfish, and that I had to be here for my older brother. We needed each other now. I couldn't live without him. I wouldn't live without him. My family had been too destroyed not to. I held him back fiercely.
"Oh, Matt.." I whispered softly as my head buried itself within the soft folds of his overly large university sweater.
"It's okay, Brynlee.. Everything's going to be okay.." He replied softly.
We were separated.
We were interviewed.
We were destroyed.
The police needed to know as much as they could, and unfortunately they gained nothing to little information from us. Question upon question they asked, and answer upon useless answer we replied.
I cried.
I wept.
I'd lost so much so quickly.
I couldn't cope.
I wanted to go home.
I wanted to be back in the comfort of a family that was still whole. But life was cruel, and such things could no longer be granted.
Home?
What was home?
Surely not the house I'd called a home since the day of my birth.
Surely not the place where I'd had my life torn apart just like my parents had been.
Surely not within those walls no longer filled with the love and warmth that previously glowed within.
My home was with my brother, and together we'd find a way to numb the pain and grow with the memory of our caring parents in our pasts that we so desperately wished to relive.
But we'd find a way, somehow...
We had to.
