This Place Only

Chapter Three - Ashes

Chapter Three

Ashes

I awoke to the calm and numbing sound of rain, but thick sunlight from the bedroom windows confused things a bit. Sitting up, I scanned my surroundings then slid out of bed. The sound was coming from the bathroom. Of course! The shower. I had rinsed myself off the fifth and final time I emptied my stomach. My chest still ached with each breath as I now entered the bathroom and turned off the mildly warm water. Sitting down on the closed toilet (hey, there’s another use for it!) I took shallow breaths and thought back on the night. My best guess at the culprit behind my severe reaction was the tomato sauce. I stood and turned to rinse my face off in the sink when I saw my reflection in the mirror. My entire face, neck and torso had completely broken out in deep, scarlet hives. I touched my skin gently, felt no irritation or itching and smiled.

Why the smile?

Was I truly losing control?

Right then, the mere thought of spaghetti and meatballs should have dropped me to my knees. Or at the very least caused me to gag. But I wanted more.

And then another thought… Did I finish everything last night, or had I put some leftovers in the fridge? Almost running, I made my way back downstairs into the kitchen.  As soon as I entered the room, I smelled the lingering aroma of garlic. And tomato. My heart was racing as I opened the top of the garbage bin; it was empty save for some crumpled aluminum foil. Four steps to my right and I flung the refrigerator door open—there it was! I pulled the covered tin from the top shelf and took it to the table. It felt oddly light, which was strange. Why would I put an empty container back in the fridge? Peeling the waxed cardboard circle from the top, I discovered a folded piece of paper inside. It was the same paper I’d written on last night before I’d eaten. Unfolding it fully, I discovered something new written below my list. Just under the words Is my mind broken? (in my own handwriting, though I could not recall printing these new words) was the following:

Never Forget

This Place Only

Tears filled my eyes before emotion had a chance to kick in. Any prior feeling of disassociation now doubled. Tripled. I knew then that I was in trouble.

This Place Only.

I repeated these words out loud to an empty kitchen.

The phone rang.

“Will?”

It was David.

“I’m…” my throat closed. My left eye began to twitch.

“Listen, Will, you need to get here immediately.”

I began to cry. “David, I don’t know what’s happening to me. I keep thinking about—”

“I can help you, Will, but you need to get here quickly. Do you feel nauseous? Ringing in your ears? Pins-and-needles in your fingers and toes?”

“Yes,” I answered in surprise. “But how—”

“I’ll tell you everything when you get here,” he finished and the line went dead.

It really seemed as if the world around me was losing its color, mostly around the edges. How could David possibly know what was happening to me?

Pushing the paper into my pocket, I left the kitchen, dressed hastily and rushed to the garage to start up the car. The more I focused on my extremities, the more my hands, feet, lips and tongue began to feel all tingly. Thumbing the garage door button on my key ring, I watched the double-door slide slowly open and pulled out into daylight.