Sixty-Seven (Tim); Nightmare.
I sit bolt upright, shaking and sweating. Another nightmare. They're getting more frequent. I automatically turn to the empty space behind me, as if perhaps by some miracle Heather's there beside me once more. But, of course, the space is as empty as it was when I went to sleep. She's not here.
I sigh; love was never meant to be like this, so crazy... Isn't it supposed to be some kind of happy-ever-after thing? Like that's ever happened for me! The fairytale ending isn't meant for me: it's far too 'light' -and isn't everyone always saying how dark I am?- it just doesn't 'fit' with me. Even with Heather it isn't 'light'. Dark, confusing, twisted, and - and sex - and - everything... Everything. Like a drug she's gotten into my system and I'm addicted, and I guess maybe these more and more frequent nightmares are like - withdrawl symptoms... Damn, I've got to get her back!
If she's dead...
God, if she's dead I don't know what I'd do...
Slowly I sit up, my eyes scouring the darkness for any remnants of my nightmares, any wayward demons. Nothing. Thank God for small mercies. I flick the light on, blinking at the sudden blinding pain, and look around the room again. It's all so strangely personal. All those things that make me think of Heather. The perfume, the jacket slung carelessly over the back of the chair, the discarded bra and t-shirt lying in a heap in the corner... It's just like she's here...
I swallow hard, then throw the covers off and head downstairs into the kitchen. I need a coffee... Caffeine is a good thing. I'm not going to go back to sleep tonight. I don't care how bitchy that'll make me at work tomorrow, or later today, as the case may be, because I'm not going to put myself back to the mercy of my stupid fucking screwed-up subconscious again. Not tonight. Not without Heather here to comfort me when I wake up...
Chapter 66 ; Contents ; Chapter 68
