Torn Fragility

My dreams had become so few
Could I carry on this facade?
This illusion I had made?

Or was it reality.
this pain,
Or just my own twisted mentality?



I floated in and out of a myriad of scenes, none of them making much sense but serving to drive fear into my heart. I had never dreamt like this before and I could not break free like I
And then I no longer knew

And then I was falling, plummeting into a dark abyss, while watching too bright stars wink at me from above. I tried to close my eyes but instead my mouth opened in a silent scream of help.

Suddenly feather like tendrils brushed against my cheek and arms gripped me in a close warm embrace.

I fought, thinking that the abyss finally had me but then it said my name in a voice which had never before said my name.

“Rose? Rose!” My eyes opened upon a new scene and at first I could not comprehend it: the concerned face bending over mine, the still fuzzy image of my room swimming in and out of my vision.

“Max?” I finally focused on the face above mine. My lips felt dry and my voice came out slightly cracked.

Max sighed and leaned back rubbing a blossoming bruise on his neck. Had I done that?
And then I came to reality in full force.

“You spoke!” I said half in disbelief.

Max shook his head fervently, looking away from me. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, clearly awkward with his pyjama top unbuttoned revealing his thin chest. His hair stuck up in weird angles of curly chaos and he had lost the dark shadows that had haunted his eyes. His skin had also lost its sickly sheen and was now a pink tinged white.

Had he been going outside?

I sat upright throwing the covers from me. “How long was I asleep!?” I asked as I stumbled out of bed only to have Max catch me clumsily with both arms and prevent me from falling.

I paled feeling my heavy breathing and feeling the weakness in my limbs as if I had run a marathon.

“How long?” I asked again giving Max my most intense stare.

He blushed angrily and held up four fingers. I looked at him without seeing him and asked, “Was I sick? Did I have a fever like you?”

He shook his head and imitated someone sleeping.

“Just asleep?” I was incredulous and then tears sprang to my eyes and without either of us seeing it beforehand I leaned sideways and clutched Max to me. He jumped slightly but I only held him closer.

“I did it! I did it…” I whispered reverently feeling the wetness of his shirt and my tears kept overflowing. He was alright! Had I finally managed to complete that vague challenge and had won him? Had I saved him?

But then Max pushed me away, suddenly, forcefully and I looked up into his blazing eyes so like Not-Max’s that I fell backwards onto my pillow.

And then he was walking away leaving me shocked and humiliated. I cradled my face in my hands noticing through my laced fingers the empty glasses on my bedside table, the numerous packets of pills and a still damp cloth like the one I had used for his fever.

Had I merely had a fever dream after all? Had a slept through an entire fever? Was that possible?

Then I heard voices in the corridor and a few moments later, Hannah stood in my doorway. Her name died on my lips when I saw her deep frown and stiff stance.

“I think it’s time you left,” she said.



“I don’t understand…” I said levering myself up on my elbows to sit upright.

“I think you do. Perfectly.” Hannah walked towards me and I flinched. Her expression softened and she placed a thick brown envelope more gently down on my bed than I think she had intended. Written in a compact cursive was my name and surname along with a sum of money.

It seemed to burn a hole into my bed and I refused to touch it.

“That’s your payment for a week of…interrupted work,” she muttered clearly seeing the questions in my eyes. “I thought you would be different.”

“But…I did everything I was supposed to. I couldn’t help if I had a fever for four days…” I looked away from the envelope and looked at Hannah.

Hannah sighed. “I’m not listening to weak excuses, Rose. I arrived a day after you called me about Max having a fever and I found this in your room while you slept. Max had already found it.”

A crumpled up ball of paper fell into my lap. With shaking hands I smoothed it out, revealing a portrait of Max, but a Max with a curled lip, his eyes filled with darkness, his scar accentuated to look raw. It had been drawn over a previous hopeful sketch of him, but only I could make out the faint smiling mouth beneath this sneer of contempt. Could no one else see that this was not my style?

My eyes hardened at the implied insult not only to my ability in drawing but the much clearer insult aimed at Max. “I didn’t draw this.” Yet who else in this entire house drew but me?

I knew Max hadn’t drawn this, not the way he had almost lovingly kept the true sketch beneath in perfect condition when I had found it in his room. No, he would have no reason to blacken my name.

I bit my lip. What if he had? I had been sabotaged, by who I knew not, was not sure, I could only guess and guessing never got me anywhere.

Hannah looked over my head. “I can’t tolerate such despicable behaviour under my supervision. I called a taxi; you’ll be leaving in an hour.”

“If you believe such things of me Hannah, that I would sink so low when I would get nothing from it, then maybe it is best I left after all. I can’t stand being falsely accused,” I whispered getting up shakily and moving towards my desk…or in fact not mine anymore.

I heard her leave but I didn’t bat an eye. I took out a pencil and paper, scribbled a picture of my best memory of this place. Of Max lying in the sun, his face serene and at peace.

I put on shorts and a plain white T-shirt. I calmly packed my clothes and sketching equipment and shoes back into my suitcase, looked for my back pack and found it on my bed, under the covers as if it had journeyed with me in my dreams. I slid the envelope into between the covers of my sketch book feeling faintly pleased that I was getting some repayment for what I had gone through without being thanked.

I would’ve preferred not being thanked, not being paid...as long as I could stay. But that was impossible now.

With the new rough sketch in hand I leapt down the stairs feeling light for some strange reason, carefree, my responsibilities behind me, the game of Talia behind me and the pitiful Not-Max behind me and the horror of that feeling of entrapment.

I heard a car roar into the driveway and I found Hannah standing in the doorway. I handed her the sketch and swept by her. Inside the taxi I leant my head back into the upholstery after telling the driver to take me to the train station.

I looked at the fading colours of the late afternoon filter away, casting the gabled house in a new light. I closed my eyes as we reversed out of the driveway.

For some strange reason I opened them quickly again only to witness Max half running onto the lawn and Hannah catching him up and holding him tightly as he clearly struggled against her.

I couldn’t understand what I had just seen. So I closed my eyes and hardened my heart, denying questions and feeling freer for it.

I’ve stopped searching; I’ve stopped trying to understand. I’m going to face my parents, my life. I’m not going to hide behind my dreams anymore.

I hope he’s going to stop hiding as well; he’s only just begun to try.