Ever, Sarah

Copyright
©
2013 by C.E. Hansen

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written consent of the Author.

AISN: B00Q5E7K1M (Ever, Sarah)

Cover Image File licensed by
www.c-e-hansen.me

Cover Art By Fiona Jayde

Editing by LTE Editing

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by C.E. Hansen.

Prologue

When I think, or should I say dream—as thinking required…thinking—of what I was like before I came to be in this state. I like to imagine myself standing in the warmth of a bright light. Surrounded in a world full of color, sound, life.

Those were the thoughts that were the hardest for me to hold on to.

They had a lifespan. And I was sad to realize, it was a lifespan that was disturbingly too short. I learned the more I tried to remember those thoughts, the faster they faded. Definitively more and more each time.

I unknowingly shuffled forward, and was swallowed by an eerie darkness, that swiftly covered the earth, like a sunset in high speed, preventing me from seeing as far down as my own feet in a matter of moments.

That is why I now find myself in a very lonely place and wonder, almost always, why I was here? Why I was alone? What had brought me to this place? What had I done?

For as long as I can remember I’ve stumbled along, my arms stretched out in front of me, trying to feel my way, never to reach an edge, a wall, a sudden stop; always fearing falling over that imminent edge.

I repeatedly tried to part the veil of thick curtains that blocked the warming light just to find, to my immense dissatisfaction, that there was just another set, equally as thick, behind them. It was a never ending task, with no reward.

Emptiness.

A hollow void.

I was trapped inside a world I didn’t understand. A place I didn’t want to understand.

I had my moments of clarity, but they were short-lived.

I saw a woman. Long flowing reddish brown hair, bright green eyes, warm curved lips, smiling, taunting.

I saw a child running in a field, her long braids flopping in the air behind her swirling, framing her beautiful young face, the sound of her laughter achingly haunting.

I also saw a man, his description somewhat amorphous, unclear, my only certainty, was that his smile made me feel warm and protected.

These visions faded the quickest, leaving an emptiness in my chest that would rival the crevasse of the Grand Canyon. Warm rivulets of water dripped down to my chin, but I didn’t bother to wipe them away. I savored the saltiness that touched my lips. I needed them to remind me of a time that didn’t exist. Not here. Not anymore.

They were small fragments of a life, which I wasn’t even sure was my own and could easily be explained as a fantasy. They would come to me at odd times. Like flashes of light—bright blinding light—before the darkness would eventually take over.

Where those strange fragmented memories melted in front of me as I reached for them, trying to hold on to a small segment of what I once was. Colors blended like watercolors slowly fading, bleeding into the night, leaving me wanting something.

Craving something.

A taste, a touch.

At first I tired try to fight the darkness, fought to keep my eyes from closing. Fearing what I couldn’t see. Feeling hopeless.

Hopeless.

Having no hope.

Something inside, a strength or a desire, but seemingly more like a recollection, told me I wasn’t always hopeless. But I found it increasingly harder to tell the difference between the light and the dark, the hopelessness and the hope, the fear and the reality.

I was being controlled by an entity and I didn’t like it.

Fought it even.

Fought the pending darkness with all that I was.

When all thoughts stopped.

When I craved the elusive light.

If I were to be truthful, I would have to admit, there is a part of me that didn’t want to open them.

My eyes.

But I needed to put an end to the movie that continually repeated itself on the inside of my eyelids.

It was horrific. Terrifying.

I stood as still as the putrid air that encircled me, appalled, watching a body roll listlessly down a spreading river, crashing against the shore. It cracked apart when it stopped, misshapen against the hard surface of the embankment. The internal fluid spread slowly outward extinguishing the life-fire, until it was no more.

My body began to quake, tremble, and the fear spread through me like the fluid spreading over the dried surface, disappearing into the cracks of the sandy soil.

I squeezed my eyes shut, full of dread as thick as the darkness.

I did try to open them, or at least I told myself I did.

I also told myself I was unable to.

I convinced myself they were covered in glue. My eyelids pasted shut; indefinitely closed to the world around me, not letting in the tiniest speck of light.

But I know it was me. It was all me. I didn’t want to open them.

For some unfathomable reason, I didn’t want to let in the light that would end this nightmare.

A strange echo reverberated inside my head and my heartbeat throbbed unmercifully in my temples.

I constantly fought an eruption of emotions—some bad, some worse—that pushed their way in front of me, not allowing me to pass, and I was incessantly irritated; trapped in a body that wouldn’t respond.

It was strange to me, but there were times when I had a strong urge to reach out and pull someone, anyone, I had no preference, by their hair if necessary, close enough so they could hear me clearly whisper ‘fuck you, I’m still here’.

Instead, I lay motionless, alone, useless.

A thin layer of sweat coat my body as a myriad of stupid, nonsensical, nursery rhymes played over and over in my head like a tape stuck on repeat.

Went to bed crushed her head, couldn’t wake up in the mornin’…

All the tiny horses, and all the tiny men, couldn’t put the broken girl together again…

Dying, dead, dying, dead, which one are you? Think about it too long and neither one will do…

This strange place I didn’t understand, wasn’t comfortable occupying, and at the same time, oddly enough, was afraid to know how I came to be here.

I rubbed the sides of my head and I smiled inwardly as a sensation—a burning—followed by a sense of peace coursed through my veins, emanating from my midsection, slowly crawling up my backbone, or lack thereof, to my brain. Releasing my soul back out into this odd universe, where it would aimlessly bump against invisible barriers, effectively stopping me from thinking coherently. Sending me back to the state of detachment; which if I were to be totally honest with myself, I welcomed.

Welcomed the nothingness.

I know it was what I needed to exist inside this place.

A hard hide, and a blind eye.

The minute moments of lucid thought becoming fewer and far between.

The nothingness was easier than thinking.

Easier than fighting the building anger, the resentment, the nagging thought I wasn’t supposed to be here.

That somehow I was fading and would soon cease to exist.

Easier than trying to remember.

Safer than the alternative.

Safer than trying to put a name and a face to the reason I was here.

Someone tried to kill me.

Or had they?

Chapter One

Ba bum ba bum ba bum, over and over again echoed inside my brain. It was almost musical, keeping perfect rhythm with my heart. The strains of the beating tempo lifted me higher and higher. It felt as if I was light as air drifting up and down, and over and around through the universe, like a feather lost in the wind; simultaneously twirling, flying and falling.

As I spun aimlessly through the atmosphere, I had a thought…actually, it was more a question than a thought.

Have I passed through the membrane that separated life and death?

Was I trapped in another level of consciousness?

I was clueless.

I didn’t know.

I did know that I was still floating, and there was something about not having to think or feel that was liberating. It left me thinking this was a good place to be.

I physically felt someone lift my hand and hold it. The warmth of their skin surrounded mine. Their grip was firm. 

In the distance I heard a voice; the sound was like waves on the ocean, coming in and out, crashing. The rushing so masked and blurred in my ears that none of the words made sense.

But the tone of the voice, the tenseness, the confidence, was somehow familiar. Like someone who’d told me a story so very long ago.

I wanted nothing more than to be lifted back up, back to drifting up higher, twirling, floating and never landing. That was important somehow, to never land.

I tried to open my eyes, but was unable to and I found it a funny thing because I didn’t care. I really didn’t care.

My body lay motionless for so long, as my mind lifted me higher and higher, I was numb.

I tried to move the arms, or hands, or even the fingers, but my thoughts were focused more on twirling and floating, the fingers fell to the wayside, forgotten for now.

There was a strange sensation inside this crazy void and for a few moments, I wondered if I were dreaming. After all, aren’t I dreaming now?

If I had to tell the truth, I was actually relieved to be disconnected. I liked not having to explain anything. Although, the entire process of remembering or forgetting was totally encompassing, overwhelming even. The only part that was not comforting was the warning, steadily blinking like some flashing sign, in the back of my brain, urging me to remain still. Telling me, I mustn’t let them know I can hear them. I mustn’t let
anyone
know.

I listened to the warning.

I felt a weight, like a warm, heavy blanket, slowly envelope me, covering me from head to foot, and I welcomed the anonymity it afforded. I wanted to disappear back inside myself. Where there was no fear, no hurt, and no confusion.

I wanted to hide.

I did.