Eternal Lonliness - Writers Forum

EverTheSameIllusion · 11-17-2005, 12:04 AM

I wrote this a few months ago, after I had around the same dream. I started it, and decided to twist it up a few days later..

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There was no stopping it. Believe me, I tried. When I rolled down the window to that police officer, and he stuck a gun in my face. There was no stopping it. There must have been a million different scenarios I had in my head after. How many ways I could have stopped what happened. He was, after all, only protecting me. I never thought he would have to. So I never argued the fact, when he said he'd kill or die for me. But when the barrel of that pistol was pointed at my forehead. He didn't think twice.
We had been driving, just laughing, talking, listening and singing to music. Just enjoying our time together. We hit some traffic on I-95. It was even better then. More time to just enjoy being with one another. Neither of us ever thought anything of the traffic. At least I didn't. I mean, it was DC, it was a Saturday. There was always traffic. At one point I noticed that there was a police officer going from car to car, again I didn't really thing anything of it. Maybe I thought he was just telling people what the hold up was.
I'd lived near DC my entire life, I don't know why I'd think that. But I did. I was so careless. So happy. So free. So in love. When the officer knocked on my window. I didn't think twice before rolling it down. With my bright, happy smile. I said "Hello, officer. What can I do for you?" at that point. The gun had moved off his belt. And was in his hand. David had taken my hand by then. Just to stop me from shaking. God, he was good at that. When the officer pointed the gun at my head. David moved so fast.
He kissed my hand, something I didn't remember until a long time after. And he pulled a knife. I don't have any idea where he got it. I honestly don't. I didn't know he had it. But he lunged forward, and tried to stab the officer in the arm. It didn't work. The officer shot David in the stomach. In an inclosed space like a car, a gunshot is a roaring, never ending sound. You never get that sound out of your head. But the roaring gunshot. And the sound of my scream. That's what I'll never forget. David was gasping for air. And the officer moved on.
I was crying, and shaking. But my mind was moving fast, I couldn't afford to let it comprehend what had just happened. I grabbed my coat from the back, and put it over David. Pressing it onto the entry point. You know, pressure. Then I moved his seatbelt so that I could drive, and there'd still be pressure on the wound. I don't have any idea how I got on the southbound side of I-95. I think I went over the median. I wouldn't doubt it. I drove so fast. Down the emergency lane. I got off in Alexandria, and drove, I doubt I stopped, all the way to the NOVA emergency room. I slammed on the breaks in the ambulence bay. I ran inside and screamed, asking someone to help me.
I loved him so much, I still do. He died that day. On the emergency room bed. With me holding his hand. I don't know if he heard me tell him I love him. But I said it so many times. He said one thing to me before he left, drifted. Went into cardiac arrest. And that was "I love you.."

**************

I woke up gasping for air. I sat up bolt right, and David sat up right next to me. "Baby, what's wrong?" he said to me. And all I could do was collapse crying into his arms. Later when I told him the dream. He just held me, let me cry in his arms. Protected me. But what he never said to me. Is "That wouldn't happen."
I finally fell asleep again. He was rubbing my back and soothing me as I did. I don't think I had another dream that night. When I woke up in his arms. I knew it was just a dream. But I had never been so scared of something in my entire life.

***************

I was there again. In the car. In the traffic. I had to stop it this time. I couldn't let him die. Somehow I remembered this time. That I had a knife under my seat. Ever the cautious driver in DC, you never know. Better safe than sorry, right? I thought so, too. Here it was again. The cop. The song. The window. The smile. Why couldn't I change the order?
As I rolled down the window, I squeezed David's hand twice. As if to tell him it'd be okay. And I took my hand from his. And slipped it under my seat.
I took the knife into my shaking hand. And before the officer could do anything. I pulled it. Put it in his face. Too late. He shot past me, at David. Here it was again. The roar of the gun. The pitch of my scream. And the screaching of my tires ad I pulled away as fast as I could. It didn't work. David died again. Still, the last thing he said to me was "I love you."

***************

I think by the second dream, second time I woke up, David was starting to get a little worried about me. I was becoming obsessed with ways to save his life in my dream. I'd sit in the car and imagine it, just wondering if that was the day my dream would become reality. And I'd lose the love of my life. I guess I knew it wouldn't happen. I mean, why would a Virginia cop go off like that?
He wanted me to talk to him. Tell him the details. I couldn't. I was too scared that if I spoke, it'd be true. And I'd wake up with him dead. I couldn't deal with that. My dream world was begining to be too much for me to bear. I'd have the same dream night after night, different situations. Scenarios of me trying, failing, to stop it. It came to the point where I wouldn't sleep. Where I couldn't, because I was too scared. Too scared to see him die again. But some sane part of me knew he'd be there when I woke up. But the irrational, insane part of me, told me he wouldn't. So I stopped sleeping.
He wanted to stay awake with me. But I couldn't let him. I'd pretend to be asleep until he fell asleep, then I'd lay awake. Just watching the celling, refusing to close my eyes. After a couple weeks, he wanted me to talk to someone, a professional. He just couldn't bear to see me so miserable anymore. Hell, I could bearly take it. It was coming to the point where I'd drink four or five red bulls to keep me awake. Not a good idea, trust me. The ephedrine in the drinks makes your heart beat so fast you could have a heart attack. I swear a couple times I felt it coming.
So I did talk to a professional. I tried anyway. But the sleeping medication, just made me dream deeper, more in detail. And it'd scare me more. It'd make me dream so deep, that I could smell his blood. Feel the warmth of it on my hands. How sticky it was. That was more than I could take. I'd stay up late, listening to classical music and just staring. After he fell asleep, sometimes I'd watch him. Think about how much I loved him. I was so mortally afraid to fall asleep.

**************

I woke up screaming. I must have dozed off. I didn't wake myself up, David did. In my half awake state, I looked at him, the man I fell in love with. Kneeling next to the chair I had fallen asleep in, in his boxers, with his arms stretched out toward me, trying to hold me. I kept pushing him away. I had become scared of myself. Scared that if I touched him, he'd vanish. Just...dissapear. And I'd be left alone. I must have looked pretty interesting, curled up in a ball like that. As I calmed down a little, I took a chance and looked at David. He looked so paniced.
This was totally, and completely insane. This was my husband, "in sickness and in health" he was there to help me. But was I sick? Or was I just crazy? I didn't know the answer to that for a long, long time. I slipped my shaking arms around David, and I could feel his hands were shaking as he rested them on my back. Look what I had done to him, I scared him so much, he was shaking.
After holding me for a few minutes, he got up to make me some tea. A friend of ours had suggested this when she noticed I wasn't sleeping. She didn't know why, of course. No one knew about the dream except me, David, and that shrink I went to. When he brought the tea back, he brought our blanket with him. He thought that if we didn't sleep in our bed, I might not have the dream. And after much thought, I agreed that this could work. He picked me up and carried me to the couch. And laid there right next to me, holding me. I fell asleep with my head rested on his chest. Listening to the sound of his heart beating.
The tea did help, I didn't dream that night. But when I woke up, he was still asleep. And I could have sworn his heart wasn't beating. So I took his pulse, and some part of me told me that there wasn't one. I shook him, that woke him up. He was dazed, and half asleep. But he just took me into his arms, kissed the top of my head, and went back to sleep.

*************

"Oh god. I'm alone. Where is David??" I woke up everyday, and as I realized he wasn't there, that was my thought process. But then I remembered. The nightmares, were real. I turned on the news, and they were doing a special on that fateful October day. That day when my life ended, along with his. My heart stopped beating, along with his. And the warmth drained from me, as did his.
In my dreams I was in denial. That something so horrible could happen to me. I mean, I had always been a good person. "Good things happen to good people" right? Accidents, and crazy things, happen to good people. In my case, that crazy thing, that accident, was that officer. He had walked in on his wife and another man that day. He killed both of them. After he did that, he left. And he went crazy.
He took the lives of 15 innocent people. Along with David. He murdered 16 people that day, but killed 17. I hadn't been the same since. I don't think I ever will be. I'll never get used to waking up, and seeing David's side of the bed still made. I'll never get used to getting in the car in the morning, and expecting him to get in right next to me. And I'll never get used to the sorry looks people throw me at work. The sorry look I throw at myself when I look in the mirror.
That day happened. No changing it, no forgetting. I can't move on. He was half of me. And walking this earth without him hurts too much. At least that's what my suicide note said. I took an entire bottle of sleeping pills. And when I woke up. I was here. But David was no where to be seen, or found. So here I am, stuck in this eternal lonliness.
My sister found my body after she called twelve times and I didn't pick up, after I didn't show up at work. And after I was out of contact for a few days. I remember watching her scream. I won't ever forget that sound either. And here I am, stuck in hell. What did I do, to make god hate me enough to send me here?
Taking my own life was out of desperation. But I couldn't imagine every day, repeating that second, the gun roaring. But that was it. Hell is repetition.

Chris Miller · 11-17-2005, 09:24 AM

Pretty nice story. Strong, ambitious idea. Your intro threw me. I'd delete it. Let people figure out for themselves what this is about. (Also split the paragraphs for screen reading with blank lines.)

You could tighten it up by removing some of the emotional telling, especially at the end.

I really liked the part where you say the officer killed 17 people and murdered 16. Very nice subtle way to make a point.

Good repetitive themes.

celling = ceiling

A Glass Thought · 11-17-2005, 01:36 PM

I like it. Very nice. Just a little revision needed and yeah, splitting up the paragraphs helps it look like individual paragraphs and not one giant one. Good work.

EverTheSameIllusion · 11-17-2005, 01:50 PM

The version of the story I have saved on my computer, does split the paragraphs. But for some reason when I post stories here they never stay in the same format. -shrugs-

Thanks for the comments guys!