Val The Vessel

26 / Rayleen II

I suck in a breath of life, reviving from the dream world. It's ironic how my body feels icy cold when I awake from my reoccurring nightmare. Those same red eyes haunt me whenever I shut mine.

"Ray!"

There he is; my beloved little brother. He prances in the room and vaults onto the bed beside me. "You look awful," he says, poking my cheek. I lay my palm on his face and shove him away.

"Gee, thanks," I say in my low, raspy voice.

Doron sits up and sticks his tongue out. It's frightening how similar our personalities are even though he's not related to Mason and I. I still want him to believe that he's our brother. It will kill me if he discovers the truth so soon.

"Boy, ain't you finna miss yo bus? Betta get your butt outta here before somebody calls child services on me!"

Doron cheeses and gives me a hug. "Ugh, school sucks! Byeee Ray!" he groans before somersaulting down the stairs. Still exhausted, I rub my eyes and trudge out of bed.

On the wall hangs a black and white photo of the three of us with our parents. Mason and I were in elementary school when that photo was taken. Doron couldn't even walk yet. Mom had to carry him in her arms. Dad stood beside Mason without touching him at all. He couldn't even be bothered to throw an arm around his own son's shoulder.

I feel my brows furrow. Time is always one step ahead of us, giving us the illusion that we have plenty of it until it dwindles away until we can never get it back. Dad experienced that first hand.

I shake my head, exhaling a warm breath. I have a bad habit of pointing out the cons of life. I wish that I wasn't like this. I wish that I was stronger. I wish that Mason tackled his problems head on instead of running from them. Then maybe Doron could've had a normal childhood and he wouldn't have to pretend to be happy all the time. It doesn't matter what happens to me, I'm old enough to endure the world's brutality even if I have to abuse and cry myself to sleep every night just to feel better for the next day. Mason might have ran off, but the only thing that matters to me right now is Doron. 

My eyes jolt open and I'm astonished to see drool drip down my chin. My left hand is clasped around my throat, choking myself unconsciously. Using my diminishing strength, I place my right hand over the left and forcibly yank it away. Sweet oxygen fills my lungs as I inhale, taking it all in with deep breaths. 

My therapist used to tell me that it was all in my head, but I had finally figured out the true reason behind these attacks. Using the counter as support, I lift myself from the carpet and trot away into the bathroom. When I flick on the lights, a red-eyed monster in a black suit smiles at me. I stare at it in horror at first, but then I smile back, and the empty house fills with laughter.