The Choice

I am 7873 days old when I wake up. I blink tentatively, anxiously, afraid to see what is right in front of me. But reality outside is waiting. Breathing in deeply, letting go, I force my eyes open. Dust lingers in the sunlight streaming in from the open window. I see pieces of furniture scattered around a small bedroom: a wooden desk and chair, a large, mahogany wardrobe, an elongated mirror leaning on the wall right in front of the mattress I lie on that feels so soft and plush, I sink into its embrace. Thick, warm sheets cover my cold, frozen body. Above everything else, however, is the sadness that lurks at the edge of my vision, consuming my frail existence.

I remove the sheets from my body and move towards the window. I only see the world outside drowning in sorrow. The sun burns with the shadows of secrets, clouds running away from the piercing rays, afraid of what the light might uncover. Right in front of the window, there is an ancient oak tree, cast in black, its branches and leaves infiltrating the vividness of the horizon. I look beyond it, past the field and see a forest in the distance, densely packed with trees docked side by side, lined like soldiers ready to attack. I stand still, thinking, letting my thoughts assemble. Suddenly, a feeling makes itself known in my consciousness, rapidly, ferociously rising above to the surface, removing everything in its path, like a spark that starts a wildfire, the burning contaminating my blood, making me boil with tension. I breathe in deeply, trying to tame the animal within, caressing it, feeding it with patience. Be patient I tell it. And a sudden, violent ache in my stomach forces me to stop, my body contorting itself, trying to alleviate the pain. Like the churning of a witch’s cauldron, brewing a deathly potion, it is unwavering and unrelenting. I know this feeling, the sensations will soon become overwhelming Stop! Don’t think! It leaves my body. I breathe. I calm myself down and feel my hair, run my fingers along the length of a braid, feeling the tightness and tension of the hands that made it. I turn my palm towards me, caressing the calloused skin, and imagine the suffering caused by the blisters, the erosion of their innocence making me feel shame. Even worse are my nails, some are bleeding and all of them are bitten raw. I touch my face, feeling the taut but supple skin, my finger traversing the ridge of my nose, sliding down to my eyes, feeling the long, rigid eyelashes. Comforted, I breathe in and let go.

I walk across the room towards the closed door. I take a deep breath and open it. Silence greets me on the other side. I gingerly walk out into the hallway. Photo frames hang from the walls on both sides, featuring smiling photographs of people. I quickly walk past two more closed doors and once I reach the end of the hallway, I begin to descend the staircase. On my way down, I hear voices. I immediately stop. A debate plays out in my head but I finally decide to walk towards the noise.

As soon as they see me, they stop what they’re doing. I don’t recognize either of the people in the kitchen. A man and a woman. Moments of silence pass between us, the air rapidly filling with tension as we exchange looks of unease and apprehension. Help me. And then, the feeling returns and I can’t breathe, feeling like I am swimming against a strong current and my head keeps getting pushed down under, forcing me to swallow the dirty water. I see a young, little girl in front of me. I want to tell her I’m sorry. I want to tell her everything will be okay: you are strong enough, you will survive - you are surviving - water begins to pool at my feet and glass walls surround me, enclosing, claustrophobic, and I begin to pound on the walls of my enclosure, the water wet and rising and so cold, so, so very cold. No way out. The little girl stares. Paralyzed and petrified. Unable to do anything. The little girl shouts but no words come out. We’re separated in time and space, again, held together only by the tapestry of memory that links past, present and future. My lungs shrivel, my breath quickens, my heart quivers with fear. I am walking into the shadows of darkness, feel the press of this memory against me, moving me deeper and deeper into the unknown. The air thickens, the darkness intensifies and the echo of pain floods into my consciousness. I become saturated with the waves of suffering so strong that I turn around and run back upstairs, yearning for the warmth of my bed. Voices run along with me but as soon as I reach the room, I close the door, lock it. Before I know what I’m doing, I have opened the window and climbed down. Once I reach the ground, I run. I’m past the oak tree, into the field beyond, running towards the forest. I don’t look back. I run until my feet hit the forest floor and I am flooded with memories once again. I run faster. No sunlight makes it through the branches and leaves and I am running in darkness, guided only by shadows. Never look back. I feel more than just confusion. I feel anger. Resentment. Rage. Fury. Overwhelming emotions that hit me again and again, like bullets embedding themselves into my skin, in all different directions, blood pouring out, pain intensifying, summing with every second that passes, with every footstep I take. There is no respite. The trees suddenly end and I find myself in a cemetery. Hundreds of gravestones are buried in the grass. I fall to the floor, grasping the grass in my hands and yanking it out of the soil. I yell at the top of my lungs. Anger boils inside of me, consumed by a fire, wanting to destroy, to annihilate. I am no longer in control.

I reach the climax, flying off the cliff, suspended in the air, I cry, and I scream and I shout, I accuse, demanding from the space around me: why me? I punch the ground. Take me away. I finally fall to the floor and surrender. I start to dig and dig and dig away the pain and the past and the memories that have failed me, the wordless stories that will forever control me. I dig away everything that is beyond me, living on the edge of reality, contaminating everything I have ever known. I dig and dig and dig. My nightgown becomes covered in dirt, black and wet, tinged with blood. I dig and dig and dig until I’ve reached the underworld, until I can find myself again. Seconds, minutes, eternity passes and I collapse to the ground.

Left, there is only uncertainty and a bottomless hole drowning deep with unknowns. I close my eyes and wish to start all over again.

~

I wake up. Startled. Where am I? The sheets are drenched in sweat, my muscles are crying out in pain, my chest is wheezing. The woman from my dream enters the room. She sits on the bed beside my body. I lie there. She places her hand on top of mine, caressing the back of my hand and I feel her warmth. Safe. I am safe. She smiles and comes closer to kiss me on the forehead. I lean into her kiss, bringing my arms around her waist. I only yearn for her embrace. But I feel her carry unimaginable pain, endless suffering, the life in her eyes overshadowed with sadness. It emanates from her like the waves of the sea, receding and then crashing down onto the hard rocks covered with injustice and oppression, so loud and merciless, I want to cover my ears. We continue holding hands for some time and she gently squeezes my fingers together. I squeeze them back. Suddenly, a pained expression crosses her face. Moments of tension separate the distance between us. My heart begins to beat sporadically. She stares at a space above my shoulder then glances at the window. Then, she takes out an envelope from her pocket and hands it to me.

-You have to make your Choice.

She places a soft kiss on my forehead, leaving her lips on my skin for a few more seconds before she gets up, turns and leaves. I look at the shadows she leaves behind.

I pick up the envelope. Written in cursive on the front is the name Jennifer. I stare at it for a few moments. My body wants to start shaking, convulsing, throwing up. I clinch the envelope in my fingers as I sit up. Hands trembling, I take the folded letter out.