Once again, I need to prepare myself for yet another miserable night of drowning myself in guilt. My own reflection calls me a killer.....
Consuming a sedative I am off like a light.
Waking up, I was stupefied.. I was In my old apartment, the same one that.....
"Cheryl, are you there?" this can't be real. He can't be here. Hesitantly I open the door to my apartment and..... Brad.
"Cheryl, thank god you are here I saw Mary down the street and she told me everything, I am so sorry... Come here you need a hug."
I am way too shocked to hug him back as the events of that night played again for umpteenth time, only this time it felt different it felt too.... Real. Like I am actually living that day again after 5 years.
I tilt my head to look at the clock ticking loudly at the surface wall on the left.
12:37pm
4 hours 39 minutes till everything goes downhill.
" Okay, I am going to right across the hall of you need anything, don't do something I wouldn't do" he kisses my forehead tenderly " You are a strong girl" and with that he is out of my dingy apartment.
What am I supposed to do? How can I save him? Even if it's just a dream, I still don't want to see blood on my hands.
If I can just.....
5:16 pm.8 October,2017.My apartment. P92 CO2 PISTOL. My hand. Shouting. His chest. Blood. Panic.
It all came rushing back to me in flashes.
I went back to my room that took out the pistol from underneath my bed. I know what I have to do, what I should have done. Wrapping it up in a cloth then another one then packing it up in a Nike box, I find a place far away from my residence to dispose the weapon.
And now I wait, the ticking noice is louder than ever, like it's ticking in my head.
5:10 pm.
Anyminute now.
Ding Dong.
"Cheryl, I am here."
"Cheryl! "
I didn't want to hurt him.
I was trying to hurt myself.
He just got in the way.
But it won't happen this time. "Brad, What brings you here?"
" I just wanted to check up on you, how are you holding up? Wait. Why don't you sit down while I cook us some pasta."
Feeling a little less anxious, I decide to wait for him while he cooks.
I glance at the mirror only to be petrified at the sight of my own reflection. Myself - covered in blood. Blood covering my clothes and a........ Knife, in my hands.
'No, this is just a hallucination, all of this is not real.' I persuade myself.
In a haze, I walk towards the kitchen where he is chopping the vegetables skillfully.
"Do you need any help?"
"Yes, chop the vegetables while I prepare the sauce"
I hesitantly took the knife from him.
Chopping the vegetables with surfacing fear, I sliced my palm. "Cheryl, your hand."
He reaches to touch my hand but I push him away. I don't want to hurt him.
"Cher, let me help you."
NO.
"Cher, it's okay, it's just a small cut."
I pick up the knife in a succumbed state. Severed him without realizing.
OH NO.
"BRAD!!"
Blood everywhere.On my clothes. On the counter. Knife. My hands. My fault. My fault. MY FAULT.
I fall to the ground, crying.
Oh my god. It was a dream.
I wake up and......... WHAT THE-??!
Same apartment. 12:35 pm. 8th October, 2017.
What is happening?
"Cheryl, are you there?"
"Cheryl, thank god you are here I saw Mary down the street and she told me everything, I am so sorry... Come here you need a hug."
" Okay, I am going to right across the hall of you need anything, don't do something I wouldn't do."
" You are a strong girl."
If this is not a dream. Then what am I supposed to do? How can I escape the haunting events of 8th October if everyday is 8th October, 2017.
Maybe I should do what I originally intended to do.
Rushing to my room, pointing the pistol at my head.
This ends here.
And then the deafening noice.
Then nothing.
8th October, 2017. 12:35pm
I wake up.
Once again.
The events replayed, I didn't commit suicide, I didn't dispose the pistol.
5:10 pm.
Brad walk in...
He is preparing the pasta for us while I am oddly tranquil.
"Pasta is ready!"
"Are you okay?" He asks when I don't budge from my place. I give him a vacant look as he nears me and engulfs me in his arms. I missed this. I missed him.
I bury my head in the crook of his neck and unknowingly the tear starts to fall out of my eyes, soaking his T-shirt. He runs his fingers through my hair in a soothing manner.
That day, I cried my heart out.
Not just for him but also for my deceased mother.
The evening followed with him comforting me and I can't stop thinking how easy this is. If I could have just been sane enough to not think about suicide, I could have surmount all those events.
8th October, 2022. 12:35pm.
I wake up to find myself tangled in some
one's arms, cautiously I turn around to find the sleeping face of BRAD.
He's here.
He's alive.
"Good morning, sleepyhead" he mumbles in his sleepy voice.
He's alive.
He's alive.
He's alive.
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