The Battle

I

“Michael help me please.” Joanna cried while she laid in a pool of her blood in her once white dress, gasping for her every breath. Michael knew he was running towards her, but he wasn’t closing any distance to her. The harder he tried, the farther away she seemed to be. She continued to cry out for him, then that skinhead walked to her. That skinhead with the swastika tattoo on his neck, and gun in his hand. Michael tried harder to run faster as the skinhead knelt down over Joanna with his gun to her head. He could hear her sobbing as the bullet was being chambered, and the skinhead looked at Michael and smiled. His smile revealed beastly pointed teeth that matched his soulless black eyes.

“Oh, please God!” Michael cried out as he was finally closing in on scene that was unfolding in front of his eyes.

“God is not with you Priest.” The skinhead said still smiling at Michael and pulled the trigger.

Michael shot upright in bed, it took a few moments sitting there in the dark for him to realize he was alright and in his own bed. The bulky shadows of the bedroom furniture were coming into focus. Trying to steady his breathing he swung his legs around sitting on the edge of the bed with his feet slightly dangling above the floor. He could feel the sweat pouring down his cheeks, and his t-shirt was stuck to his body. Looking at the clock it glowed a taunting 3 o’clock in red numbers. This seemed to be the hour that nightmares end, at least it had been for the last week.

Getting more of his breath he made his way to the bathroom, turned on the light, and started the shower. This has been the reoccurring theme of his restless nights. Opening the medicine cabinet he took the two bottles of antidepressants and shook out one pill from each bottle, one pink, and one blue and dry swallowed them. He hated having to take these stupid pills for Christ sakes they weren’t working anymore. He wasn’t feeling good or even okay on the medication any longer. But he wasn’t about to inflict self-harm unless biting off some heads would end-up screwing him over in the future when he decided to continue on with his life. He closed the medicine cabinet and leaned on the sink.

“Why did it have to be her?” He asked the early morning silence. Standing up he looked at himself in the mirror in the small bathroom, and his eyes went to the round jagged scar on his right shoulder while his left hand out of habit found the one on his stomach. He stood there looking at his marred body until finally he could no longer stand the sight and got into the shower.

When the shower was finished he put on the newest pair of pajamas that Joanna had bought for him. Nothing fancy just a pair of plaid pajama bottoms with a gray t-shirt. Looking at her picture on the dresser it was hard to believe that the five year anniversary was next week.

Glancing at the clock it was only half passed three. It was amazing how the early morning hours only made the loneliness worse, not that it was any easier in the daylight hours, but the light somehow made it more bearable. Knowing sleep was unachievable Michael went downstairs.

Going downstairs was not at all easy in the early morning hours either, as the walls of the hall and stairwell are lined with pictures of the two of them on vacations, just posing, and of the wedding. The photos were a journey of their life that began at the bottom of the stairs, and ended at the room across from the master bedroom where the pictures of the baby that they always wanted should have been.

Going into the kitchen he started the water for a cup of tea. He already had a cup in the dish drainer, her cup. He used mostly everything that she used. There were plates, and other cups that he hadn’t used for months still in the cupboards. Even though she had been gone for nearly five years, it was still comforting to drink from the cups she used to drink from, and eat off of the plates she used. It made it seem like she was still here, still accessible.

When the tea was ready he poured a cup, and returned the kettle to the stove. Rummaging through the pantry he found a bag of Oreos, those were her favorites too, and walked to the living-room to watch TV. Flopping down on the couch he started flipping through the channels until he found an episode of I Love Lucy. He never really liked that show, but it was Joanna’s all- time favorite. In the beginning, once she was gone not ever to be coming back, he found something new every day, something new that he would do that he never cared for when she was alive.

It happened one day when he was shopping. He never realized it until he was home putting away the groceries that he had bought all the foods she loved that he couldn’t really stand. The second time was when he developed a love of reading in her chair next to the living room window. The chair that she would spend hours reading in. He loved her so much, and he wondered how she was able to love him with all of the things that he found little joy in, that she liked to do. He laid his head on the arm rest, and finally dozed off, but he didn’t dream.