Hauntings In Her Dreams

When Filipe had left Jamie, she was heartbroken.

That was what everyone would say, whisper to their friends whenever they found themselves in the presence of the dreary girl. Sympathetic glances would be cast her way and they would fool themselves into thinking that they understood, that they also had endured a bad breakup before and it was only a matter of time before she would be better.

With her shoulders slumped and her eyes dull, it was no surprise that the girl was depressed. Her face was constantly in a passive state, never showing any betraying emotion. She never wore any make-up, never that unique sparkly eyeliner that she was so famous for. Jamie just didn’t seem to care anymore.

It was only a phase they said. But they didn’t know, she knew that they would never know what she was feeling. This wasn’t a simple “bad breakup” as they put it a million times before, she wasn’t “heartbroken”.

She was dead. Jamie would have sounded crazy if she ever voiced her thoughts, but she was positive she wasn’t alive anymore. Her heart was still beating and oxygen still filled her lungs with each breath she took, but this wasn’t living. This was simply surviving from day to day.

Dead, she considered herself.

Of course, they only said such things when it came to their attention, when she walked into their line of view. That was rare considering that leaving her house or even her room was an activity she hardly ever partook in. Brooding in her room, lying in bed for hours on end thinking about everything and nothing soon presented themselves to be her new favourite hobbies.

Jamie wasn’t always like that; in fact she hardly ever was in her room when Filipe was still around. Outside was where she loved to be, feeling the breeze flow through her long brunette locks and gently kiss her exposed skin. They called her a free spirit, carefree.

Then Filipe left.

One day he got up and vanished from the city without a word or a goodbye. All he left was a small note for Jamie, explaining his absence. But that was never enough; just a few simple words written down in black ink could never cure the inevitable disease to follow.

It was a disease, she had decided on that a long time ago. She was sick, with her face grown pale and bags under her eyes she certainly looked the part but that was hardly why. She couldn’t function properly as she used to be able to. It devoured every inch of life in her. Walking dead.

Selfish, she knew that she was. He left to achieve his dreams to become a singer, to become someone who he said he wanted to be proud to be. Jamie thought he should have been proud of the Filipe that she knew, she certainly was.

He wanted to change the world, but Jamie didn’t quite understand why she needed to be pushed out of his life so that could happen. She didn’t get why he had to break her to become a better person.

Why did he have to ruin her to feel proud of himself?

Her friends encouraged her to get out more, to be herself once again but it was all fruitless and pathetic to her. She couldn’t just forget, as much as she wished she could have. Oh how she craved that sense of ignorance, to go on living as if her heart weren’t in small, shattered pieces.

In fact, on one rainy Sunday afternoon, the weather seeming to mimic her mood, her mother had given her money to get a white chocolate mocha latte from Starbucks, which used to be her favourite. This was a painfully obvious ploy to get her out of the house but seeing the pain and worry concealed in her mother’s smile she decided to go along with it for once.

As she trudged down the slushy streets, the remnants of winter still left behind, a cold breeze sailed by. Jamie pulled her thin coat tighter around herself, her gaze resting at her feet.

Above her the clouds spanned out across the sky in a grey abyss, hanging over her pretty little head and threatening to pelt the word underneath with its merciless raindrops. She paid no attention to this though and continued ambling down the street to the Starbucks that she hadn’t gone to in such a long time.

When a small bell indicated her coming into the little shop she felt a small pang in her chest. Familiar memories flooded into her delicate mind and ripped away viciously at her composure. When she was alive, those days seemed so far away now, she would go to this exact shop every weekend to enjoy a drink with Filipe.

She shook her head in a feeble attempt to shake away the thoughts. This didn’t work as she expected but she grabbed all the strength she had and fought back tears, scurrying to the cash register with her breathing heavy.

The girl behind the counter was familiar to Jamie, her name was Amy and they used to talk whenever she used to order. When Amy saw that it was her she sent her a considerate smile, knowing the story that everyone else did.

“Can I have a white chocolate mocha latte?” Jamie muttered, loud enough for the girl to hear, while pushing a ten dollar bill across the counter.

The girl nodded, opening up the cash register and placing the money inside. “Is that all?” she asked in a sweet tone.

Jamie nodded, bringing her arms around her once again for a false sense of reassurance. As she waited patiently for her piping hot drink, something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head she felt her mouth fall agape, her arms falling to her sides dejected.

There, in the same forest green jacket she had seen him last, stood Filipe. Just the mere sight of him caused her heartbeat to quicken and her breath to catch in her throat. “Filipe?” she asked incredulously, refusing to believe her eyes.

He turned his head to see her, sending her his heartbreaking smile. “Hey Jamie,” he greeted her casually, sauntering over to where she stood with his natural grace that she was always amazed by.

Swallowing the large lump in her throat almost painfully she froze. “Filipe, what are you doing here?” she breathed out, her eyes trailing over his body. She couldn’t believe he was here, but yet there he stood.

“Here’s your latte.” A voice interrupted Filipe who was about to explain his presence, causing Jamie to jump slightly. Turning on her heel Amy handed her the hot cup, smiling generously.

Without a word she grabbed it before spinning back to where the boy she had missed so greatly stood. Except, now he was by the door, beckoning her to follow him before disappearing out the shop.

She found that she had no other choice but to do as he said and quickly rushed after him, conflicted on whether she should have been happy or angry at him. Still, she felt a large weight being lifted off her chest as she pushed open the door, feeling the cool breeze prickle at her cheeks.

Filipe was only a few steps away, his hands in his jean pockets as he strolled down the street. Quick with her feet she caught up to him, the soles of her shoes slapping the pavement.

“Filipe,” she called out when she was next to him, his actions perplexing her greatly.

He never paused and continued walking but turned his head to grin at her once more. “Yes my lovely Jamie?” he spoke almost as if he had never left at all.

“What, what are you doing here?” she asked in bewilderment, running her hand through her chestnut locks out of frustration. How could he be so casual about this, she wondered.

A flash of pain crossed his features, his lips falling dejected from the smile. “I, I… Jamie, I missed you. It’s not worth it,” he admitted, guilt laced in his low voice as his gaze fell to his shoes.

At this the brunette fell quiet, the words on the tip of her tongue not being able to form around her lips. Instead a sigh fell from her mouth. “You, you just left.” she whispered; her voice barely audible.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized sincerely, his eyes boring into hers.

She stopped and grabbed him into a forceful hug, feeling her cheek press up against his chest and letting a few tears slip. His arms encircled around her consolingly as they stood in the middle of the street.

Jamie still held on to her drink as she let go of him, an unfamiliar smile slipping onto her lips. He grinned back down onto her, his eyes sparkling as she remembered them. “Come on, it’s getting dark.” He gestured to the darkening sky and the streetlights which were slowly lighting up.

With a smile she nodded her head, feeling his hand enclose hers as they continued to walk back to her house. There was a comfortable silence surrounding them and Jamie felt no need to break it with meaningless words, feeling that just be being with him was enough.

Once they were in front of her house she let go of his hand, skipping merrily up the stairs before opening the door and gesturing for Filipe to enter. He chuckled and did as she told him to, mumbling something about how she hadn’t changed at all.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he proposed, a yawn emphasizing his need for some rest. He stretched his arms out before bringing them around her in a hug.

She giggled before escaping from his hold. “Okay,” she agreed, trotting up the stairs to where her room lay with Filipe in tow.

For a moment she wondered if she should change into her pyjamas but decided against it and slipped under the covers with her clothes on. She was brimming with delight as Filipe mimicked her actions and climbed into the bed, snaking an arm around her waist.

“Goodnight beautiful,” he whispered before kissing under her ear gently, causing shivers to crawl up her spine.

Before she knew it, she had fallen into a deep slumber.

Awakening, she sat up from her bed with a grin. The curtains were falling over the window, stopping any sunlight from falling in as she had liked it for the passed months or so. Of course, suddenly she felt the desire to watch it tumble into her room.

But as she surveyed the rest of her surroundings she felt her face fell dejected. Filipe wasn’t there; he wasn’t in the bed nor anywhere else in the room. Confused, she threw the covers off her body and stood up, confusion marking upon her face.

With quick steps she checked the hall to find it empty. The bathroom and guest room proved to have the same result. He wasn’t downstairs or in the kitchen either. Panicking, she ran into her sister’s room.

He couldn’t have just left, she told herself. Though he was definitely not in the house. That she was positive of.

Throwing open her door, her sister Rebecca stared up at her, evidently startled from the rough gesture. “Jamie?” she asked confused, putting down the book she was reading and standing up from her bed. “Are you okay?”

“Where’s Filipe?” she begged for the answer, panic clearly communicated in her voice.

Amy’s eyes instantly softened as she took a step forward. Jamie knew this couldn’t have been good, swallowing the lump of doubt in her throat. “Where is he?” she repeated, tears brimming her eyes. "He was here last night. He was here, he walked up those stairs, in my bed, he was here..."

“Jamie, hun, he wasn’t here last night. He’s been gone for three months.” Her voice was sympathetic as she took another step closer, bringing a hand up to console her sister.

She wouldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it. “No, it couldn’t have been, it wasn’t a dream.” Jamie whispered, tears in her voice. "It wasn't a dream!" she cried.

Amy nodded her head, confirming Jamie’s fears.

Filipe wasn’t here. He was still gone. It was all a dream. “It felt so real. He was here, with me, he was here...” she whispered before running back to her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Her sister didn’t bother to follow her, knowing it was no use. How could her mind torture her like that Jamie wondered?

Her back pressed against the wood as her knees gave out, her body sliding down the door. Tears raced down her cheeks and sobs pressed against her throat, the painful stabs to her chest returning. Her body was shaking violently with held in cries.

“It was all a dream,” she whispered to herself, her face pressing against her knees. “Just a dream…”