Nightmare
Scarlett's POV
I twist the handle, as I escape inside. Sighing deeply, I close the door and turn around as my body skids through the wooden thing. I stare into the cool darkness, feeling so mentally drained out that my hands, don't even reach out to switch on the lights. I rub the back of my neck and recollect.
After Bree drags Tony by his sleeve. Jackson waltz towards me, breaking each wall that I've built in the pathetic excuse of personal space. And like an instinct, my feet walk back as my eyes stay fixated to his darkest gaze. My chest heaving, my nails biting the palms of my hands. My throat growing drier every second of his closure. When my waist hits the edge of the shelf, the only thing my mind can counter is a weak threat. Stop, don't get any closer. But, he doesn't halt a muscle and I face the inability to form words. Though, a mere inch separates us, but the force of his proximity is the closest, we've been. Then, the clash of our breaths is the only thing heard. His calm. Mine escalated. What is he doing to me? He places his rough palm beside me, slowly drawing it towards my body. What does he want? And just through this haze, I look up and instantly my thoughts go mute. "So, is he your confidante?" I bite my lip, a little too harshly as I quickly shake my head. "Then, make me yours." I swallow, as his partly-jealous-completely-husky voice drawls out. The dilemma is, I know he's not talking about secrets. But even if I know, I can't do anything about it. I don't want him to laugh at me. It's an ego battle now. I push myself away from the shelf, and walk around him. It's cold, because the heat of the intimacy suddenly vanishes. He doesn't let me far, as his callous hand softly braces my wrist. He scowls and leans in to whisper, "You can't escape me, Scarlett. You know, I won't let you."
And that's the agony, because I know he wouldn't. I sigh back to reality. I turn the switch and as the room fills with light. I wish, my life could do the same.
I throw myself on my bed, dead exhausted. But, the events flash back. To my romantic day dreams. To Tony's confession. To Jack's behavior, the constant push and pull. The tug of war, that's escalating between us. I sigh yet again, as I miss the world I've left in New York. Everything was so much easier, so less complicated. I remember, just a week ago I was home. I was happy and I may not have been content, due to some differences in my life. But, at least I was safe. That's when it rains on me, how thankless I've always been. Truly we appreciate something when it's lost. There's no doubt that I live in a world of thrill now, but with it comes danger. Just as much, as it carries risk. Sometimes, I even worry if I'll make it alive to see my mother's warnings and her attentive gaze. Or even if I do, I know I won't be sane anymore. But, one thing's for sure, I will never be the same.
My life might as well have changed its monochrome from white to black.
Breaking myself from my oh-well-that's-life reverie, I tilt my head to catch the time. It's ten. So, there's plenty of time left for me to shower and then call mum at eleven. Hopefully, I won't be late this time. I undress myself and slide the glass door, stepping into the cubicle. Before, I can turn the lever.
Clang, clang, clang...
A strange noise stops my movements and I stand still trying to make out the sound clearly. Clang. I crease my eyebrows, remembering where I've heard it before. So very familiar. Metal clashing with a hard surface, a continuous dragging of something heavy. The scrapping of footsteps and suddenly, a hard bump is heard, like a hammer just banged the floor. I jump back afraid. My scared beating heart trying to calm down and my eyes locating the source. I touch the tiles around me, they hardly vibrate. When the bump gets lighter, I finally find out where the noise is coming from. I look up and the subject stops his banging, like it just saw me. The eerie silence engulfs me, as I wait for it to continue. But, the subject in question doesn't. The sound goes silent, like it was never there. I shake my head. Angry with my day dreaming self and considering it again as something pure delusional, I pull the lever.
Hot water burns through my bare skin. I back away wincing, "Ah!" My elbow an ugly shade of red turns up to me and I softly caress it. Trying to numb the affliction. I glare at the shower head and I twist the lever lowering the temperature. And start bathing again. The sweet fragrance of cranberries fills my nostrils, as I softly rub the shampoo through my tangled mess of a hair. I smile, recalling a memory not long back. "She's a princess, Tony. She should be treated no less." Florence instructs her very compliant brother. And when I wash them, the silk mane falls over my shoulder like feathers on skin. I hum my favorite tune from titanic,
"Near-far-wherever-you-are, I believe that the heart does go on"
My feminine voice filling the echoes of the room with harmony and calming my tensed nerves. My eyes closed, though it's not what I want but I see him. His coffee brown eyes capture me in a trance.
Jackson.
Is it really possible? To like someone so much, so quickly?
I shake my head. My emotions are drowning me again. I snap my eyes open. The water evading my sight, has my wish of blurred unshed tears fulfilled. A feeling, a strong sense of déjà vu catches my breath midway. I travel back in time, where I was soaking in the storm, and the rain captured my sight the same way. My fantasy, where I danced in the drizzle. It was so surreal and Jack was a mere dream. My inner self mocks back.
A dream or a nightmare?
For the ache, he gives me. He's better described as the latter.
Clumsy. You're trouble. Absentminded.
His disgusted gaze that acknowledges me, makes my heart bleed like it's constantly being screwed with. My hand touches my inflicted chest and I feel the hammer of its hurt. It's constant endurance of pain. Tears trickle down my cheeks. I look at my extended hands that mix my salty tears with the water washing over me. And I try distinguishing water from water, but misunderstood.
That's when, a deep red droplet falls over my palms. I frown, letting go of it. As I rub my eyes to clear the watery haze. Placing my hand back. My forehead strains, as the clots fall again. Moving it towards my nose, I sniff the liquid. My lungs halt, as senses register.
Blood.
I shake my head furiously, denying all trashy thoughts. I start scratching my wrist, as I chant over and over,
"It's not real. It's not real..."
When I steal a peak at my bloodstained palm. I chant again, "A dream, a day dream." I start pinching my fingers and scratching harder that it forms bruises, like it's been clawed by an animal rather than a human. I shout,
"Wake up, Scarlett!" I shout louder, "Wake the hell up!"
Clang, clang, clang. My cries mute themselves, as the sound of heavy footsteps returns with its dragging tremor of a hammer. "Wake –" I start again, but I close my mouth shut, as I see the blood river that has formed underneath my feet. My heart beats like thunder and like a lightening I jolt my head back. Hoping it's just a dream. But, it isn't. I close the shower, draining the blood. But, the rain of blood that has showered me too, wasn't really coming from the water pumps. I slowly arch my head, looking over at the ceiling that pours the bloody Nigara falls. My true sense of judgment abandons me, as I counter the smell of humanly fresh blood. My hands bloodstained. Bathing in a pool of murder. I feel no less than a killer itself. Then, the nightmare is that it's not a nightmare.
I walk out of the blood stanching shower place and rush towards the bathrobe for a certainly needed cover. The pure white fabric sprung on me and my blood drenched hands, wipe over its silk.
So bloody linen.
My thoughts are caught off guard, when I hear a cry.
"Help me, please."
I swallow, the bile in my throat as I hesitantly turn around. There in front of the cubicle, sat a girl with auburn hair that fell to cover her scarred body. Her knees drawn to her face. Her arms rested over them, as her head lay flat. Her body trembling for warmth. She was barely covered in a sheet of torn white dress. She kept murmuring lowly and very quickly. Inaudible sounds, I couldn't muster. It was so eerie, yet so affrighting. That it shivered the blood running through my veins.
"Scarlett." She utters, like someone was suffocating the life out of her.
And even though, my mind screams "Escape", my feet under her spell walk towards her. The only sound that surrounds us, is the constant fall of droplets as it drips blood from the ceiling. And her cries, those quivering helpless calls of pain. I reach out to her, bending low, extending a hand; calling out the only possible name that could be hers.
"Poppy?"
Suddenly, the time seems to halt. Even the ticking of the minutes could not be heard. The droplets, her breathing, it was like I had entered a silent realm. Her awakening had stopped time. She raises her head from the miserable mess, she had been in. My eyes terrified with what they see. My chest heaving quicker, than a marathon and I startle myself back.
Her hollow dark eyes peer at me.
Did she even have eyeballs?
The black spreads all over her irises and pupils, and they continue to stare at me drilling circles. Her face is vicious. Numerous scars and cuts, it is so messed up, that one could hardly make out, how she actually looks like. My heart hammers in my chest. Those imprinted claw marks match the ones, I have scratched on my wrist. I gasp in horror. Realizing what she is doing to me, my body still remains immotile. Her forehead marks two triangles upside down.
My retreating comes as swiftly, as I recovers from the shock fear has given me. I run towards the door and try turning the stiff handle, which wouldn't budge. She screeches and bellows. My head starts spinning, when I realize that the door knob I was trying to turn, isn't even there. And the wooden door I was going to bang on, had been replaced by a concrete wall. I turn around, as the room suddenly turns a darker version of the night.
The cool air passes through my bare legs and I shiver partly from the frost and mostly from terror. I am no longer in the lake house bathroom anymore. I glance around, it is so dark. It's a misty night in the woods. A shrill follows from the deeper corner and I tremble. As I hear a girl wailing. She screeches again, and before I can walk to help her. She screams in rage and I finally see the shadows of the people in act. She hits the man with something long, perhaps a stick and starts running. I brace myself, because she's coming my way. But, when I hear footsteps behind my back. I hide behind the nearest log, I can find. The same sound, of heavy footsteps; of dragging something hard as a hammer returns. The girl has made it out of the big trees. I can make out her willowy silhouette in the dark, the torn white dress she supports. Her legs are bleeding. She couldn't have run afar. As a man steps out from the shadows, and hits her hard with the hammer, he has been dragging. "NO!" I scream. But, my voice has seemed to drown in her cries. "Ah!" She groans. She keeps on screaming, as one man grabs her neck and suffocates her. The other man from the woods earlier, has caught up. He brings a knife with him. They lay her down, as they roughly handle her legs and wrists. The man draws up the knife with intention of killing her. Her hands still quiver, she has life left in her. I run up, to stop them. But, the closer I get, the further they move. Terrifying fact, is that he doesn't kill her. He deranges her face and the sadistic monster, feels pity while doing it.
"Sorry, flower." He chants. "I'm sorry."
He's actually sobbing. My limbs feel tired even though, they haven't even moved. I have started crying loudly, because I am so helpless I couldn't have even helped her. Saddened with the fact, my knees meet the ground. My grief stricken face, watches silently what they will do next. One man digs through the land. The furious part of me, keeps caving ways to get just one glimpse of him. Finally, the other one shouts, "Now!" And the one above, throws the delicate dead body of the girl in the cemented grave. No burial, no coffin. They shove soil over her. And as soon as they leave, I run towards her. She might still be alive. I might have been the one to witness her brutal assault. But, I am going to save her if she's still there. Digging with my hands, because I can't find anything else. Soil in my nails, but I hardly care.
I pull onto some flowers. The red petals in my palm. As I draw them closer for a sniff. Poppies. I look around, the whole yard is filled with poppies. But how? This land was barren, when they buried her. He interrupts my despair,
"Poppies for my little poppy. I'm sorry."
I go very still and follow the shadow standing above me.
My eyes go wide at Mr. Burton.
The man in those clothes. The man with the knife. The man who killed her.
I get up in a flash to run from this beyond sick, sadistic and pathetic excuse of a human.
"Poppy." He keeps on chanting.
"You monster!" I yell at him afraid, as I run back.
"Poppies for my poppy." He chokes on a sob, as he declares softly. I bolt before, he comes close to me. My eyes close. I don't know, where I escape when I finally hit myself to a wall.
A wall that moves?
I place my hands affront and push myself against it. But, his voice calling out to me, saves me from my deep and drowning thoughts. I gasp back to reality.
Jackson grips my hands that continuously try to slap his chest.
"Scarlett, look at me!"
And when I finally open my eyes to look at him. I see, I'm back in my room. He's standing in front of me, moving his hands up and down trying to calm me. And before, a horrid recollection catches me again. I fold myself in his embrace. I hold onto him so tight, that there's no place left for escape. These arms can protect me. They can keep me safe. They are what I need. He is what I need.
"Don't let go. Please, please. Please don't let go."
I taste the salt of my tears, confirmed of my weeping and take deep breaths.
"Jack, please. Save me from him. From them. They'll kill me, just like they killed her."
I sniff through the fabric of his shirt and rub my head there again. Craving comfort. Craving safety. Craving his passion to protect his possession. He makes my heart beat run miles, but this same heart needs him. It's such a challenge. The true relief is, when I feel his hands circling my waist. As they delicately trace my back and stop as they reach my head. His long fingers softly rub through my hair. I choke a sob. Because, he knows what I need. We stand there, as the time I hardly care about ticks by. When we pull apart, he carefully captures my jaw, as his long fingers cage my face. So, that I don't look anywhere but him.
"I'll always protect you, Scarlett. Even, if it's the last thing I do."
His words were plain and empty. But, the way he said them were everything to me. I had never heard someone say anything so honestly. It's like, he confessed a memo, a rule he would always abide in. His eyes gave away the power of his speech. Like, he would die if he never fulfills the promise he just made. And the relief it brings me, makes me smile through my tears. His thumbs gently wipe them. His face, so unsure like finding ways to comfort me, but is failing miserably. But, little does he know. He's my comfort.
I hold onto his hesitant hands, as I kiss them and place one against my cheek. He grins and I smile back. But, the tension escalates when his gaze travels south. My cheeks flush, when I realize I'm only in my bathrobe. I know, it's not see through. But, still. I jump back afraid. Pulling up those walls, as I remember the blood on it. Jack frowns, trying to reach for me. I raise both my hands,
"Don't! I'm covered in dirt and this blood. You'll get it too." I don't stop, as my scared self utters this sentence in a single breath. I've started shaking again. Events of the bathroom flash in front of my eyes. "Scarlett, no. Stop!" I start, murmuring words.
I witnessed her die.
I'm part the killer.
Oh, God! I saw her die.
"There's nothing on you. You're clean." Jackson admits, through my endangering thoughts. He walks closer and I scream, "Don't you see? I could have saved her! I didn't!" Jack shakes his head, as he still doesn't stop his steps towards me. "Scarlett, please!" He shouts. "That's why, there was blood. So, much blood!" I explain to myself. He growls exasperated, like an inflated balloon just burst. As he yells,
"ENOUGH!"
Jackson grabs my wrist and pulls me to him angrily. I try, to wiggle my way out. But, he cages me, not letting go anymore. Chest heaves, trying to calm the fury that has set in. Face whispers death threats. Breaths are impatient, as he fights an internal battle with himself. And I'm sure, he's seeing red. If he looks at me, with such seething glares. I'd be ten feet under. But, he closes his eyes and keeps me in his grasp. Taking inhaling lessons to calm down. Then looks down at me, with the softest look he can manage.
"Let me help you."
His voice comes out strangled. And I nod, just for the sake of the frustration on his face. My heart melts at his words. He's trying so hard. So, I tell him.
"I watched her die," He holds onto me, as he carries me to bed. "That girl, Poppy. I tried saving her, but I couldn't," We settle down. "I'm like, an indirect criminal. I witnessed the crime and I couldn't do anything about it." I look at my bathrobe, to give him proof. But, it's spotless pure white. Not a single clot or dirt. "There was..."
What was I supposed to say? When all the evidence, I had to my truth had vanished. I view my palms; that are soft, fresh-out-of-a-bath.
"There...there was soil in my nails," I stammer. "When I tried digging her gra –" I stop myself midway, as I see the look on his face. Look of doubt. One of pure madness. He might believe, I'm nuts. My heart drowns as its voice breaks,
"You think I'm crazy, right?" I laugh to myself.
"I'm delusional." I comment and recall the one, Florence gave me.
"That I day dream?"
I let out another bitter chuckle. Wow, Scarlett way to go! You have officially established to the one person, you wanted to stay sane in front of; that you're actually a psychological patient, who needs therapy. Because, she sees things that do not exist. You hallucinate. Another chuckle follows.
My throat's left dry, when Jackson Wyatt utters the next words.
"No, Scarlett. I believe you,"
My breath changes its pace, as I try to swallow what he's confessing.
"And why?" He counters, my insides cave as I quickly nod.
"Because, I've seen it too."
****************************************************************