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The sadness presses on me like a heavy, heavy weight, and I know I can’t withstand it. It will crush me.
I close my eyes,
And it’s dark, and I dream.
I’m in a darker place, and my brother is there. His eyes are dark and murky, without whites, and I realize that he’s an embryo, and I’m an embryo and we haven’t been born yet. I reach out my webbed fingers and touch his face through the liquid, through the fluid, and he’s my brother. Although he doesn’t have hair yet, I know it. I feel him, I feel his heart.
He looks at me through the dark, and just as if he were speaking, I hear a voice. It’s him, it’s my brother, it’s Finn.
Save me and I’ll save you.
He is loud, and quiet, and everywhere, and nowhere.
Something is troubling him, and I feel it in my bones, so I nestle closer to take it, to absorb it, because I can’t let anything happen to him, not ever. I failed him once, and I’ll never fail him again.
He brings me comfort and I bring him comfort and that’s the way we’ll always be.
I feel his skin. I feel his heart beating against me.
I feel our cells splitting as we grow, as we develop, as we become beings.
Save me, and I’ll save you.
Yes, I will.
I will.
I awaken with a start, and the light is pouring into my bedroom window.
The bedding is pulled up to my chin and I untangle one hand, staring at it. My fingers are no longer webbed. My fingers are separate and long. I wiggle them in the light.
It was a dream.
It was a dream.
My thoughts are muddled though. It’s hard to focus and something moves in the corner. Something with dark eyes. It stares at me for a moment, then it’s gone, and I remember Finn’s scream.
“The demon is here, Calla!”
My heart is frozen as I sit straight up in bed and stare at the empty corner, where I could swear a black-eyed being was standing just a scant moment ago.
That’s impossible.
Impossible.
I feel so tired, so weak, so confused.
I shake my head, trying to clear it, but it refuses. The fog remains, mucking up my thought processes, interrupting everything.
From outside the door, I hear voices.
“Will she be ok?” my mother’s voice is anxious.
“Her hold on reality is tenuous.”
It’s a murmur that cuts through my panic.
I pause, halting all movement, not even breathing. The whisper comes from the other side of the door.
