Torn Fragility

I'm standing at the entrance of the abyss
A blanket of darkness covers the sky
And once shiny white clouds
Fade away like the rain
The wind is violent
Poison has filled the air
I can feel the tempting urge
To become a monster
Yet I stand unwavering
Waiting...
What lies in the empty void
Why does it wish to devour
Everything
I'm not the enemy nor is it mine
I'm just standing in between
Life and death
I suppose I'm the thing holding "it"
And "it" holding me
But like I said
This is not my enemy~Presence of the abyss by Marcus blake



And I finally realised that this is where I wanted to be. In an adventure. Away from mundane everyday life, away from being mundane me, away from people who held me down with their perceptions. I was finally in a fairy tale, my own.

And no book would ever satisfy me again.

Curtains fluttered in the breeze when I stole inside, feeling like a thief, my breath coming out in short eager bursts.

“Mr Smith?” I whispered, then louder, “Max?”

When I looked towards the bed it was empty except for a scrap of paper, handled many times, dog eared and a bit smudged: My sketch of Smith. The person I knew he could become. I picked it up, feeling the blood rush to my ears. I was embarrassed of it. That was the main reason I had not wanted it to be in anyone’s possession but mine. The eyes were clearly too happy, the mouth was no longer bitter and a carefree essence lent itself to Smith’s features, making him seem boyish. And the scar was gone.

I was ashamed of my childish attempt to improve someone, even if it was indirect. Tears pricked my eyes but I ignored them and moved towards the window. And sitting propped up against the side of the bed was Max himself, his face slightly drawn as if he hadn’t slept well.

His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell visibly. Was he asleep? I crept closer, my bare feet making no sound upon the carpeted floor. But then my foot hit over a glass half full of water and I winced at the dull thud it made but Max did not stir. Worried I stopped creeping around and simply knelt down next to him.

“Max?” No response. I took him by the shoulders and shook him gently calling his name first softly and then louder. But he only slumped forward into my arms and when I held my palm to his forehead it was warmer than I was comfortable with.

“Oh no…” Does he have a fever? What should I do? Has he been taking his medication? I looked around wildly scanning the room for any signs of bottles or pill boxes. Would it maybe be in the bathroom?

I hefted Max up onto his bed not even struggling; if possible he had lost weight since I had last seen him. And when was that exactly? I had no clue what the date was. He could’ve been alone for days and must’ve caught a fever. I rolled him over onto his back and tucked the duvet over his bare chest and shoulders. For the first time I saw sweat upon his brow and I began a frantic search for medicine of any kind.

But there were only pain killers in the clothes strewn bathroom and inflammatory pills, probably against infection because of his almost raw scar. Had he not treated and cleaned it properly? I went back into the room and looked at his haggard face. The scar actually seemed to be healing well.

What had caused his fever?

I went into my own room and scratched around in my toiletry bag for the headache pills I had packed along with a few dissolving vitamin tablets against colds. While I was in there I checked my phone and gave a repressed sigh of relief. It was only three days later than the day I had arrived here. Of course! I had checked this morning right? I felt guilty for having not checked on Smith first thing when I woke up from that ‘nightmare’.

I’ll punish myself later, I thought wryly. I hurried back into Smith’s room wondering again how fast his fever had come on. I had in truth only been gone a night judging from the date on my phone but maybe he had caught something even before I had arrived to work here.

I filled up a glass with water, and dropped a tablet inside. I should at least get him awake just so he can drink this. After that I’ll let him sleep and contact Hannah. But what if she answers…? I ignored that nagging doubt and shaking Smith by the shoulders again I tried to wake him.

He didn’t move beneath my hands. Only the sinking and rising of his chest gave any indication that he was still alive. And of course his burning skin.

I slapped him as gently as I could on opposite cheeks to wake him, then harder. I shouted. I even sank as low as to pinch him. But the poor victim of my abuse only lay there. I held back tears. This is serious I thought as I hurried downstairs to dial Hannah. But my hand paused just above the receiver. What if the same thing happens again?

Instead I dug my phone out of pocket and typed in her number.

When she answered I felt the nightmares melt away and become just that. Dreams.

For a moment I so pleasantly surprised and relieved and I just stood there breathing into the mouthpiece while she kept on repeating, “who is this?”

“Hannah?”

“Rose? Oh thank goodness, I thought the line had gone dead. Dear, why are you calling?” In the background I could hear a babble of voices. I could barely hear her.

I was sorely tempted to tell her of the hag, the strange too perfect version of Max, everything. But something held me back. Later I thought over it but never knew what had deterred me.

Instead I said, “Max has a fever, and I don’t know what to do; he won’t wake up.”

There were a few seconds of silence and then Hannah said, with concern creeping into her voice, “Have you tried taking his temperature? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure…My sister had fever for a long time before…um, anyways, what do you suggest I do? I can’t wake him to give him a tablet, should I take him to the hospital? Or is there a family doctor I can call?”

Hannah ignored my slip of tongue about my sister and simply said, “I am the family doctor. Or nurse. Call it what you like, but I oversee his medical needs.”

“Oh,” I felt stupid. Of course. “Is it possible for you to come back earlier?”

“Actually…Wait, hold on please,” she said, her voice faint as she talked to someone almost out of hearing. “Sure, I’m almost done here. Hannah? You still there?”

“Yes.”

“You fixed up the bicycle right? We have an account at the local pharmacists…”

“Pharmacists?! Isn’t Max a serious case…of whatever? I still don’t know what exactly is wrong with him but I’m sure he wouldn’t have a nurse if it wasn’t serious.”

Hannah sighed and causing slight static. “It’s not so much physical Rose. Max, as you should’ve realised by now has physiological problems. He suffered from depression a while back, he still does a bit…Wait. He just has a fever right?” An edge of panic had crept into her voice.

“Yes but,” I began.

“That’s good. I mean, that means he didn’t try overdosing on anything.”

“But what about him not waking up? What if he drank too many sleeping pills?”

“No. no; he has none in his possession. His pain killers are also very mild and are mainly for aches,” Hannah mused.

“Then what about anti-depressants? Although I couldn’t find any maybe he…” I stopped, horrified at the thought that he might have overdosed.

“Don’t worry dear. Maybe it is just a slight fever after all. I’ll try coming back tomorrow at the earliest if I can. For now I want you to go to the pharmacy−”

“I can’t,” I said softly, kicking myself mentally for blurting out a snippet of my crazy morning.

“Sorry?”

My mouth was very dry as I said, “Nothing…I err…just have to fix a tyre.”

“Oh. Well fix it as soon as possible. Just tell the pharmacist working there; I think his name is Allen, that he should call me if he doesn’t believe I sent you. Tell him about Max’s case and he’ll give you the suitable medication to counteract the fever until I arrive.
Before you leave, try cooling Smith down with a few wet towels and leave him a glass of water on the bedside in case he wakes up before you come back. I’m sorry dear, I have to go now, but call me if things don’t get better.”

“I will,” I whispered longing to tell her about my dreams but I knew I was wasting precious time if I wanted to get to the chemist before it closed.

“Good bye!”

And with that she was gone and my communication with the outside world was cut off. I checked the time and went upstairs to put on shoes. I wet a hand towel with cold water, sponged off Smith’s face and left it lying across his hot forehead. The dissolved tablet was still at his bedside so I left that there before closing his open windows from whence a cool breeze gained entry−maybe that’s how he had become sick−and leaving the house.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. This is it. It was only a dream. She only has power in dreams, that hag, and this is not a dream. I flew down the porch steps and looked back. Maybe I’m just going crazy.

I was clearly still human and relieved that I still had my freedom I fetched the bicycle and sped down the driveway. This is wonderful! The wind swept my shoulder length hair back and I rejoiced in the feel of it on my starved skin. It was almost four in the afternoon and few people were out. I quickly looked down at the directions which I had swiped from the fridge. Hannah had probably left it there for me.

The pharmacy and grocery store were clearly marked and in the same shopping centre. After a bit of hassle it swam into view and a broad grin crept across my face.

You’re wasting time. He does not suffer from any ailment…that can be cured in this way.

I almost swerved into a car in surprise at the sound of the awfully familiar voice in my head. I climbed off the bike and pushed it the short distance left. I was shaking too much to trust myself on the road.

Am I going crazy? But I knew that that was the safer and more comforting notion. I knew it had been real. That woman had been in my head.

I suppressed a shiver entered the quant pharmacy on the corner. I had a bit of difficulty convincing the pharmacist that my story was the truth, he showed no recognition at Max’s name but he immediately moved into action when I spoke of Hannah. I felt chuffed with myself as I stuffed the paper packet into my backpack, pleased I had been able to handle that quite smoothly.

But still the niggling doubt ate away at my peace of mind. Had this just been a waste of my time?

Back inside the house it was pitch black already. I bit my lip, cursing the long trip. Up in Smith’s room I switched on a bedside lamp that cast a rosy glow on the bed’s occupant who looked even sicklier in its light. His face was white, covered with sheen of sweat and I realised with horror that if he should not awaken now I had no idea what I should do.

But when I rested my hand on his forehead to remove the towel he blearily opened his eyes.

“Rose?”

“I’m here,” I smiled down at him relieved and pushed the rim of a glass filled with a dissolved tablet from the pharmacist. I made him drink a bit which he eagerly gulped down. But after only a few gulps he pushed the glass away petulantly and I put it down. I turned back to him and held a new wet towel to his forehead.

His eyes were wild and did not really see me. “Rose…He won’t let me go.”

I stopped and I frowned. “Who won’t?”

Max grabbed my hand tightly in his until I winced in pain. “He’s waiting for you…” and with those chilling words his head lolled back onto the pillow and he sunk back into whatever fever dreams he had been having.

I sat there numbly faintly wondering if I should go take a shower. I gave an impromptu giggle and stood up shakily.

It had been real. That other Max was real. I didn’t want to believe it after all but I knew I did already.

But the shower revived me. I sat down on the shower floor, with my knees tucked underneath my chin letting the warm water coat my body in cascading rivulets.

I checked on Max before getting myself something to eat. He was breathing more peacefully now. Later I struggled to fall asleep.

But when I did, sleep held me longer than it had ever before.