Alair'e

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I read it once as a writing prompt for some class that no longer matters. The prompt is wrong. I can hear myself scream and I am in space. I can hear every cell explode, turn inside out and burst like a star only to become a dwarf. To become white, hollow and dead.

Here I am starting at the middle of a story and likely the end of my life. Typically when the heroine dies the story ends but I’m not the heroine of this story. I did not even know I was the villain until I made the decision to be one.

I can hear it still, my screams in my mind echoing for years. For seconds. We have time to die so let’s take a step back.

—-

I wake with a start, the type that brings a dead car battery back to life. I'm sitting up even though it feels like I am spinning on my side. I try to go back to that dream. I always do and I never can. The shadow of a dream lingers like a bad taste in my mouth.

I close my eyes knowing what will come next. The wave of grief folds me. It is not loud but it is everything for a moment. I breathe and try to focus on my mousy hair pillowing my forehead. A thin barrier between me and falling through myself, folding forever.

It takes longer to pass today but that is not new. I do not know when it started taking more and more of me. Yesterday was worse than the day before too.

“It’s ok” you crooned and held your cool palm down the back of my neck. I feel peace for a moment but then the grief turns to worry.

You're not here, you are not real, I cannot hear you.

But I still feel your touch as I sit back up. I feel your patient eyes on me as I step out of bed like a newborn fawn stepping between piles of books that created you.

It is so strange the world I created for myself, the story I built in my head and the characters that kept that world alive.

“Jesus” I sighed and then chuckled darkly to myself. In my world there is no Jesus, no god. I feel my face slack again, the grin dying where it stood my world is just as false I think to myself. My psychosis or my imagination.

Also my secret.

I did not initially realize how odd it was to have an imaginary friend and found out too late and too old.I only ever told one friend about you Sera and I will never make that mistake again. It was like putting your foot in a bear trap that I set for myself, hearing the click and knowing what I had done. The wariness in her eyes that day told me all I needed to know. For me to live in her world I needed to bury yours in my head. I never spoke about it again. My friend did not mention it and I doubt she forgot. I was 15 then and 12 years later you are still here.

Outside of these mornings you mute during the day when I go out to school and work but when my mind wanders it lives in the world I built in my mind. Some real Princess Mononoke bullshit. Gods, wolves, owls and worlds.

And then her. My twin, my creator, and my imagination.

I pull on my jeans, the ones I've owned for five years now and have miraculously grown with my ass. I toss on a loose sweater and shove some scrubs in my bag for my evening shift after school.

I walk out the door a half an hour and a half a bagel later.

I reach the bus stop and go for and go for my pass to realize it is not there. I stifle a cry and breathe through it. I’m already late. I guess I am calling an uber and stretching my budget again.

I order my car and then squat down waiting, resting my chin and palms on my knees.

A rogue, ugly pigeon parkours on the stretch of road in front of me, I tilt my head to the side and chat with the lone feathered creature for a while.

I hear a shuffle behind me and jerk my head over my shoulder, hyper aware that I am caught chatting with a bird.

Some young stranger with his bag on the bus bench behind me is leaning his back to the plexi glass bus advertisement. He blinked his dark eyes at my sudden movement but otherwise kept still, silently staring, brow raised.

I contemplated upset while meandering his conscious free stare but then realized what this must look like. Well… exactly what it is. Me squatting on the side of the road having a one sided chat with a pigeon.

Naturally I hallucinate people, voices and more but I am outed by a friendly chat with a fowl.

Like a knight on a white horse my uber whirred to a stop sending my pigeon flying right at the dark stranger's head. He wasn’t staring then, he fell over into the corner of the stop overhead.

I let out a surprised laugh, covering my mouth when seeing the dark look I was receiving from my fallen counterpart.

I take my cue and right myself right into the car.

I sink deep in my seat and keep my eyes forward as my driver pulls forwards, never pausing the conversation with his earpiece.

I lean my head back as we get a safe distance away and let myself have the last laugh. It is always fun watching pretty boys fall.