Middernacht?
Or thereabouts. Supper was every bit as sublime as I my wildest hope had imagined. Such a unique sensation to truly savour each bite. I've long been an afficionado of fine wines & fine restaurants, but a gourmand has no concept of the appreciation that simple hunger can breed. My discipline held. I fought my desires & wallowed in anticipation until past dark, then slowly, deliberately, I relished each & every bite.
Carmen's not returned. Can't see my watch to really tell the time, so midnight is a complete guess. Can't even see what this writing looks like. God only knows if it's any more legible than had a monkey written it. This room's single lightbulb has all the luminosity of a firefly, but I doubt I'd see any better if it was a spotlight. Eyes truly hurt, so shan't write much, & can't see well enough to read the paper. Best it waits till morning anyway, but must do something to take my mind off the dark silence.
I've always loved the wee hours, but no longer. I lie awake with no thoughts that make any sense & none that will allow me rest. My hearing is as annoying as hell - so unreal. Makes the outside world seem unreal - distant & muffled, but with that ringing that will drive me mad if it remains. I can't tell if the city's fogged in or if it's just me. What if my sight & hearing don't mend? I'm a sitting duck as it is now. Anonymity is my only protection. Neck also hurts badly. I've not unbandaged it to see, but I think it's infected. Might have a temperature, too. That was the deepest burn - along the left side of my neck. Shall have Charlie look tomorrow.
For once, I'd managed to drop off to sleep quickly - thanks to the full stomach. Damned dream woke me again. Have it several times a night & wake with a pain in my head like part of my brain is being ripped away. It passes quickly, but leaves me nauseous & disoriented for a while. Always the same pieces, but rarely the same order. Nothing clear & it fades quickly. My father with his hand at my throat - & the demon of the sepulchre - they're one. Sepulcres circled & open before the portal. I hear my father's voice - 2 sides of the same coin - you are my son - product of evil - deny me - deny yourself - join us. I feel plastique in my hands - but was I sealing the portal or blasting it open? I have the timer/detonator in my hand. Again - "Join us!" Then the pain comes & I burst awake.
I wonder how my friends fared today. Did they have dinner at Rachel's as we'd
planned? Dammit! I remember that. Would they still be my friends? Can't bear to
think on it. What must they think? Do they hate me or grieve for me? I dare not
make a move till I know more. My anonymity, my death, might be their protection
as well. What of Ingrid & Mother? They grieve, but I know that they do not meet
grief unprepared. The reasoning of it will have to wait until the creatures of the
night are disbursed by the bright light of morning. Even as I try to probe my own depths, my head whirls, my stomach churns, my hands tremble - so many emotions that have no names. Dear
God - I was ready. I'd tied all the ends, made my farewells. Part of me wanted it.
Why was I denied my reward? Or is that dream trying to tell me that I am, indeed,
my father's son?
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