Montgomery's Diary - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 – Fight or Flight

I was cold.  Erratic bubbles swarmed my panicked limbs.  I kicked against it.  It held on tightly, pulling me down.  I fought with frenzied determination.  Once freed, I burst toward the surface.  I was bound to breach when I felt the piercing sting, flesh broken, spirals of blood danced before me.  It latched onto me again. 

It pulled me down further. 

    I was tired.  I wanted air.  I settled for water.  It burned.  It chilled.  It surrounded me.  I was submerged and dragged deeper into its depth.  The rippled sight of the sun was the only show of mercy.  The surface was there.  I could make it.  I was just there.  I only needed to reach.

    I sunk further. 

    "The sun..." I thought to myself but I was cold.  I was tired.  I was...

 

Blinded by

Our paradise...

 

I dreamt.  I dreamt a lot.  I thought I was awake.  I dreamt I was awake a lot.  I wasn't.  I fooled myself often.  This was my unintended past time.  I was my own worst prankster.  There was nothing more miserable than not being able to trust your mind. 

 

I was going to wake up.

Almost there, just a little further, and... 

 

Sleep was a villainous pusher.  I was addicted to the state it kept me in.  Cocooned in its blanket I became its number one customer.  This lulled unconscious oblivion sometimes felt like a gentle sway.  I pictured myself being carried from one sleep narcotic room to another.  They seemed similar in their effect but so distinct in their appeal.  I couldn't tell them apart. 

Where was I?

My eyes were always heavy.  Always so tired.  I came close many times.  I never stopped trying.  I fought for that little bit of awakening every moment it occurred.  It teased the corners of my lids just before I went under again.  Then it came, the unease of waking, but I would do it.  I was almost there.  I just needed to focus.  "I would do it this time" became my mental mantra.  Until I dozed off again.   

I wondered if waking up from anesthesia was a similar battle- foggy in nature, hard to resist, and so discomforting you might cry.   Those moments when you really wanted to wake were the worse. 

There was warmth.  It sheltered me.   My body stole from the elements that surrounded me.  I saw nothing and felt only unwavering warmth.  It was strange.  I didn't know where it came from, what it was, but thought it had a purpose and knew without a doubt- it was mine. 

When at last a breeze chilled my forearm I opened my eyes to darkness.  It was as if I hadn't opened them at all.  There were small flecks of moonlight that broke through the dense canopy of trees.  Night had fallen, I thought, but I was lost by how I should feel about it.  Was this the right time of the day?

Where was I again?

How did I get here?

Where was here?

I heard a rustle to my left.  Without a thought I turned my head in the direction of the sound and my neck screamed.  My body throbbed from the slap of sharp pain jolting every nerve ending.  It was the wakeup call I hadn't asked for.  I flinched as the remnants of the pain died down to a soft echo.  I refused to move my neck when I heard the sound again.  A name came to mind, one that ached with an arsenal of heat, security, and...  I don't know.  I called out to it like a wish filled with vacant hope.

"Joe?" I whispered. 

"Joe."  Yes.  "Joe." 

There was no answer.  I waited.  I waited even as part of me said I shouldn't.  Somehow I knew.  I knew this wouldn't be right.  Couldn't be right yet I found comfort in my doubt when I wasn't sure of anything else.

I licked my dry lips and discovered another problem- thirst.  I heard the rustle of shrubs but saw nothing.  The lack of light did nothing to ease the worry that bubbled deep.  The sound came again.  Closer. 

"Joseph," I whispered.  With the name there was a swell of emotion that I would have given anything to be buried in.  To navigate through its darkness; I was ready to be lost.  It lingered long enough just for the warmth to grow cold.  The memory associated with the warmth disappeared just as the sound came again. 

It was closer.

It was letting go. 

Whatever it was, the stealth mode it once maintained was no longer an issue.  Boldness grew in the absence of movement.  It, this thing, person, animal, that lurked in the darkness must've known at the same time I realized my problem.  I couldn't move any part of my body south of my neck.  Paralyzed beyond fear I willed my fingers to grasp the soil, my toes to tickle the air, for my tears to hold back, and in the strength of my conviction nothing yielded. 

Why wasn't there more light?  Why?  I couldn't wrap my mind around the ‘why’.  I needed the explanation.  My body itched with the slithering feel of insects navigating against its terrain.  I needed-

I wanted-

To stop.  For it to stop.

Stop touching me.  GET OFF!

    Closer.  Closer.  My heart kept a pace that was infinitely louder and rapid with each twig snap, leaf crinkle, and growl toward my direction.

    Growl?  No.  I heard wrong.  That definitely wasn't a growl.  I wasn't going to be ravished by a rabid dog or-

I couldn't scream.  My throat parched.  It's so close. 

Sweat beaded my forehead.  Was it this hot at night or just me?  My mind burned with pyrotechnics as an assault of memories exploded into my head.  Were my eyes opened?  Were they closed?  Why did it matter?  I remembered-

    I was a girl.  I was the person voted most likely to succeed.  I was a good daughter.  I was a great friend, cool girlfriend, and decent temporary fiancé.  That all seemed to vanish in lieu of my latest gig- the perfect prey. 

    My head ached, the memories slowed, and the breathing grew louder.  It stalked my body in the dark.  I felt the heat that emanated from its body.  It was large.  It now kept a small distance from me.  For the slightest moment I felt it lingering at my head, sniffing my hair.  A disgruntled whoosh of air swept past me. 

    The force of it sent a new wave of fear down my spine.  It paced, sniffed, and clamped down on my head.  I was dragged by my hair an inch or two from where I'd been.  It ran off no doubt with some unhinged extensions in the cracks of its teeth.  It wasn't far.  I couldn't move.  It waited.   We were at a stalemate. 

    I didn't want to think.  I didn't want to give breath to my fears because the more I stepped away from the rabid dog theory the more I knew I wasn't even in the ballpark.  Denial could no longer spare me the truth of the reality.  The only thing I could be sure of that I was unknown to it.  I was being tested. 

I failed. 

    So I thought positively.  The sense of touch had always been there.  It couldn't be total paralysis I figured.  I hoped.  Why hadn't I gone to school to be a doctor instead of...  School.  I'd gone but I left because-

    I'm an actress.  I've acted!  It's how I met Joe.  Joe won't be here.  He wouldn't be here.  I knew that before.  He couldn't be.  As I remembered my limbs trembled like a low electrical current was coursing through them.  My head thrummed with images I couldn't understand.  Again I wondered if my eyes were open or not. 

It was darker now.  My eyes rolled around unable to focus on anything specific, as images came and went.  What was it I was it I thought I saw?  The sound of movement brought me back.  It circled me.

    Panic set in.  The small trembles of my limbs evolved.  My body convulsed like a fish desperate to be in the water.  I couldn't think about anything else at that moment.  I was happy for the motion, at the possibility that came to mind.  I might die, I could be eaten alive, but at least I was able to move. 

    The convulsions bothered it.  A shadow moved inward, without hesitation, it was beside me and a warm hand smoothed the spirals all except one.  I felt a lock of hair tugged from the rest.  The convulsions slowed; again they were quiet trembles that kept wake my sleepy limbs. 

    "You've been worrying."

    "Joseph?"  My eyes sprung open.  I had my answer.  Even in the darkness I could see the gleam from those hazel eyes.  I wanted to touch him, feel his stubble, and caress his cheek.  I wanted to hold him.    "I can't move."

    There was a growl and my happiness waned.  We weren't alone.  We were both in danger.  I needed to take his hand.

    "We have to-"

I stopped.  A new pain took over and I was blinded by it.  Joe was holding my hand.  He shushed me as he patted my head.  My eyes quirked but I was in too much pain to question the unusual behavior or to remind him I was human and not a pet. 

    Teeth sunk into my thigh.  Warmth spread down my leg but I couldn't- the convulsions started again.  No, that wasn't it; I was being shaken.  A memory, clear as day, formed in my mind of a terrier ripping into a stuffed rabbit.  Flinging it into the air, it's stitching unraveling, bits of cotton collected sporadically across the ground.  I thought only of the discarded stuffing. 

    The pain in my thigh festered.  I had trouble keeping my eyes straight.  They were swirling.  Things moved.  Joe clutched my hand, my vision blurred, and for a moment I saw his father.

    "Elicia," he smiled to me.  He always called me by the Spanish version of my name.  It was nice to see a friendly face.  Was this what dy... I was shushed.  I looked into his father's eyes and smiled. 

    "Es muy malo," I said to him before he could ask me about my Spanish, "Tu chico esta muy ocupado para ensenarme" It's very bad.  Your boy is too busy to teach me.  Then he was gone. 

    Everything ached.  Constant throbbing exhausted my nerves.  Sleep was ready.  It had always been there.  I hadn't fought harder.

    "Joe," I croaked.  I cleared my throat but it only grew irritated.

    "I'll tell you," he said to me.

    I didn't want to think what that meant.  Images were coming to me again.  I slipped into a vision when a growl awakened the pain filled lull I'd sunken into.  It was at my head yet Joe was still there.  I worried.  It made me think of her.  Of all times to be reminded of my mother now hadn't seemed like the time.  More than any moment before I considered genetics and what being my mother's daughter meant...

    Was I still being shaken?  Had it stopped?  I couldn't remember if it did.  I wasn't sure I felt much of anything, even the pain seemed to ease.  Joe's hand gripped mine tighter.  His gaze never strayed away from my eyes.  It was as if his eyes spoke to me.  They danced with stories he hadn't yet told me.  The growling dimmed.  Joe's hand stroked my head.  They found a rhythm.  Silence triumphed.  Everything was fragmented.  It was true.  The warmth had been mine all along.  My body was on fire. 

    When he whispered close your eyes I didn't know if it meant forever. 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

February 2nd

Today you told a story I'd never heard.  You looked at me and I knew.  So now I’m writing it down.

"If body parts had personalities, my stomach was uber aggressive.  It demanded action.  At some point I could swear it was eating away at my backside and wanting to attack my butt like it was Sunday's roast."

I laughed.  And you smiled at me.  Everyone always ate up your stories.  Even with it just the three of us now, I enjoyed every morsel of words as if they were the only things in the world.  

"I clutched my purse.  Digging at it probably kept me from beating my stomach.  I felt a bit desperate at that moment and shook my purse, keys rattled, and not much else.  'You wish,' the keys jingled to me.  Still I pulled out everything.  I came away with more lint, receipts, and an unfathomable amount of hate that I pleaded with the universe to just convert it all into currency- preferably American dollars.

I closed my eyes and looked into the hot California sun.  How many dreamers before me had done this same exact thing?  How many had come before me only to face it's heat and feel there was no turning back, no matter the consequence?  How many?  How many had survived to know better days?"

  

Today was a better day.