Chapter 2
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Aegri somnia – (A sick man’s dreams)
I can hear her, my senses are fucked but still there on some level and I can hear her whispering. I know she’s near, I can feel her too but her voice seems a million miles away. My mind is full of pain and confusion but her words wrap themselves around me, protecting me, they lull me with offers of oblivion. I’ll take any chance I can to forget if only for a while. Yet I know somewhere deep within me that it’s nothing but an illusion, that my mind is playing tricks on me giving me a false sense of security, I know the truth, there is no oblivion, no escape from the pain, no chance to forget because even my dreams allow me no end. It’s the same each fuckin’ time; over and over I feel each and every blow. I stand back and watch from the sidelines as my flesh is once again pulled apart, cut broken and torn. In my dreams I still feel as I watch, and I watch as they laugh. I watch others taking pleasure from my pain, it seems that some things in my life are always constant.
There are thoughts in my dreams too, ones I try hard not to forget and I hold on tightly to them, I will heal eventually, they will pay eventually, I will find a chance to be free, it will end eventually.
There are other thoughts though, ones I cannot escape from, not that I try, there are some things in life too hard to hide from and the truth is one of them. I think about my failure, and its such complete failure, I was caught again, something I’d sworn on a daily basis would never happen but worse than that, this time I’m not alone. This time I’ve dragged her down too. My one and only promise to another in this world: protect her at all costs, and I fuckin’ meant it, all costs, didn’t matter what, I promised to fuckin’ protect her.
Well I failed big time on that one, she’s dying from the inside out, dying because I’m a failure, dying because I couldn’t keep my word.
Could anyone recover enough from this to even exist on a minimal level? I don’t know if she could ever heal from this, from what they do to her, she won’t ever answer me when I ask, won’t ever tell me, keeps it all to herself but I know enough, too much, my senses may be fucked but they’re never quite dead enough. My dreams go into overdrive and replace what I know was today’s reality with their own version of hers, even my dreams know I fucked up and my head allows my imagination free range, forcing me to watch her pain instead of my own, my need to punish myself doesn’t stop me from willing my mind to stop, I’m always ignored, it has too many scenarios to choose from. My mind no matter what, always capable of creating the most horrific pictures to accompany each bruise and each scent.
I scream but I’m never heard.
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