Lucid

Lucid

Chapter One



Emmy stood motionless in front of the entrance, her eyes scanning the room for him. Her heart beat fiercely in her chest as she took in every single person sitting down; fat, small, tall, thin, overly thin.

She straightened up, the lights overhead momentarily blinding her as she looked down the red carpeted aisle, into the red-colored seats for his familiar face. She didn’t understand why he wasn’t here, didn’t understand who all these other people were. She didn’t know them.

The air in the auditorium was light, making her relax. She worried about small things, until a slow paranoia coiled around her body, seeping inside, igniting every tiny problematic question until they found their way into her brain.

A wisp of cold air curled against her ear, suddenly, and then faded. It took her a moment to realize what it was – a voice. Soft and far from her rigid form, so distant that she barely heard it. She took a step forward, and then stopped.

It was as though someone gripped her wrist, forcing her to halt where she was. Something didn’t want her to go down to the front, where more than a dozen people sat, near the stage. Emmy turned to face a now closed door. There was no one there. No one to tell her to stop walking. She whirled back around, her eyes going wide.

The chairs that had been occupied by so many strangers were empty. There was nothing left in the room but the beeping of a machine behind the curtain on the stage, and a soft breeze that made the chairs whine.

Inside her head, Emmy calculated. She had been asleep for two hours, at most, her dream coming in pieces at first. Then it became whole, became this room, those people, that voice. That voice was one that she knew, even in its whisper.

The scene before her started to melt away and she closed her eyes. Opening them again would be horrible, she thought. But she had to do it. Had to see. Seeing shrank back the fear, she had learned that. She didn’t really understand it, but it worked.

An abrupt breath skittered across her neck, into her long hair, and she finally opened her eyes.

Bright light fell across her face, and she thought it might be the sun at first, until her eyes adjusted to what it really was: a ceiling. She was on her back, on something soft, hopefully a mattress.

Something made her want to lie still. She squinted, counting the tiles above her, before she heard a door open and then close. A soft shuffling noise made her aware that someone was with her.

Slowly, Emmy propped herself up on her elbows. She was in a hospital bed, the tray beside her full of syringes and other frightening instruments.

“What am I doing here?”

“Everyone else has died. Isn’t that nice?”

Emmy’s eyes widened and she looked frantically at the nurse, hoping like hell she was just kidding, even thought that wasn’t something to joke about.

“Who are you talking about?” Emmy whispered.

“Aren’t you glad they’re gone, Emmy?” the nurse asked, her eyes glinting malevolently. “You’re getting what you always wanted.”

Emmy’s throat felt tight, the words she wanted to say wouldn’t form in her head. Instead, she closed her eyes once more, knowing none of this was real.

“You’re not real,” she whispered to the nurse. “This is all in my mind.”

“I can promise you I’m real,” the woman replied, laughing slightly. She reached out and gripped Emmy under the chin, yanking her up, her hands cold.

Something slid into Emmy’s vision and she cringed. The needle point hovered over her left eye.

“What are you doing?” Emmy screamed, her voice strong.

“I’m giving you a sedative,” the nurse said. She looked confused for a moment. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Oh God,” she whispered, panic seizing every part of her as the syringe came closer. “Please, don’t.”

“This will help.” The nurses’ lips twisted into a horrible smile. “You’ll feel better, I promise. Now hold still or I’m going to have to get an orderly.”

“No!” Emmy shrieked. She shut her eyes, tight, as though the needle would not be able to penetrate through her eyelid. “Let me go.”

“You have to let her do it.”

Someone else was in the room. He was with her, he would keep her safe. Emmy opened her eyes slowly, both relived and disturbed to find that the nurse had vanished.

“Caden?” Emmy called softly, her voice cracking. “What’s going on? Where are you? I tried to find you.”

“I’m with you,” he said. “Just, please, let her do what she has to. It’ll relax you and you’ll be able to leave.”

“It’s my eye,” Emmy gasped, touching her face. “I can’t let her do that, no matter what you say.”

“Then you’re going to be stuck here,” he said gently.

Emmy turned her face to the side and closed her eyes as she felt something against her cheek. It felt like a hand. Startled, she shook her head, shook the nightmare away. This was absurd. It was ridiculous.

He wasn’t here.

Fingers slipped onto her face and held her, suddenly, prying at her eye. There was a doctor she had never seen before and he had his thumb and forefinger on her lid and below. He held her eye open with one hand, and had the syringe in the other.

Emmy’s eyes blurred with tears as she felt the slow pierce of the needle.

A scream pierced her ears as she bolted up and clutched her chest, breathing heavily. She was covered in sweat, her mind reeling. Carefully, Emmy slipped out of bed and went to flick on her bedroom light. She leaned against the door and shut her eyes.

Bringing her hands up, she touched her face, exploring it with her fingers before she walked into the bathroom and turned on that light. With her position by the door, she could see half of herself in the mirror.

“What’s there to be afraid of?” she mumbled to herself. “Just go over and look. You’re not bleeding or blind.”

Sighing, Emmy gathered up the courage and padded over to the sink. The floor felt cool against her bare feet, so it managed to relax her. The sink was made of porcelain, so it was sturdy. She clutched the basin, her eyes glued to the faucet. She refused to lift her head.

“You’re such a wimp,” she hissed, degrading herself. “It was just a dream, all of it, just a goddamned dream.” As she began to lift her head, she stopped, horrified.

Her pending reflection wasn’t what stopped her, it was something else, something other people wouldn’t have been able to detect.

She lifted part of her shirt, by her shoulder, and sniffed. It smelled of disinfectant and death. It smelled like a hospital.