Sleep Keeper (14 page)

“No! Please don’t!” I whimpered to myself.

Mitchell’s eyes were marked with fear. He scoured the scene intensely. I felt his disorientation growing stronger. His panic filled my throat with a knot. He discovered renewed strength as he lifted himself off the pavement and limped toward his car. Suddenly, as if he too could sense someone closing in behind him, he jolted around. With his left hand still clenching the wound on the side of his gut, he raised his right arm, trying to block the now visible blade from penetrating his throat. A figured hovered over him in the darkness. Mitchell tumbled onto his back while a sharp wail escaped his twisted mouth…

I awoke in bed screaming. I looked over at Mitchell’s side of the bed but it was still empty. Drenched in sweat, I jumped up and frantically scoured the house.

Was I asleep? Was that a dream?

“Mitchell?!” I yelled, switching on the lights as I passed each room.

Silence. I ran out to the garage; his car was still missing.

It wasn’t real. It was just a bad dream.

But that knot in my gut said otherwise. I paused, focusing on the location of the dream. It was a parking lot. It was dark, but it reminded me of the campus. The details were blurred and already beginning to fade. Sometimes Mitchell would go there to jog.

“No, no, no…” I muttered, as I searched through my purse for the phone. I dialed Mitchell’s number with trembling fingers and waited for the ring.

Ring, Ring, Ring, “Hi, you have reached Mitchell McCain, please leave a message. Beep.”

I hung up and dialed again.

Ring, Ring, Ring, “Hi, you have reached Mitchell McCain, please leave a message. Beep.”

I threw the phone back in my purse and quickly dressed. I ran out the door and jumped in the car. As I drove away, I tried to convince myself I was just being paranoid, but I could still feel his terror. Flashes of his tortured face flashed through my mind.

As I turned the last corner, flashing lights ahead pierced the dark night. I reached the scene in a blink, but was stopped by a police officer ordering me to turn the car around. I threw the gear in park and bolted out, leaving the ignition on.

“Whoa, whoa, you can’t be here, ma’am!” the officer demanded. He grabbed my shoulders to prevent me from proceeding.

“That’s my boyfriend,” I choked out.

He hesitated.

“Please!” I begged.

He glanced over his shoulder, and then led me through the small crowd. We broke through the crowd and I spotted it immediately. On the ground lay a bulging tarp. The officer stopped a few feet ahead to prevent me from going further. A pool of blood had oozed out the side of the forest green tarp and shimmered in the moonlight. I winced and turned away, trying to hold down the vomit that was creeping its way up my throat. The officer pulled out his notepad from his pocket.

“The identification on the victim reads Mitchell McCain,” he stated.

The sound of his name sent a sharp pain in my chest and I bent over, vomiting uncontrollably. This got the others’ attention. I felt the weight of their staring eyes as I kneeled on the ground, fighting the urge to faint.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” the officer asked.

I managed to control my stomach enough to stand, with the help of the officer.

“I need to see,” I whimpered.

He looked over at another, who gave a quick nod. He leaned over and slowly dragged the tarp back, uncovering his pallid face. I gasped and my legs fell numb. Someone grabbed my arm before I hit the ground.

“That’s him. That’s Mitchell,” I choked out through sobs.

I spent the entire night at the police station answering questions, although interrogation was a more accurate description. They found it coincidental that he was alone in a parking lot and I showed up shortly after his murder – even after I explaining he liked to take walks on the campus frequently and I was worried when he didn’t answer his phone. Of course, I left out the fight and that I witnessed the murder while I was asleep. I figured neither one would help my cause at all. They didn’t have any leads yet, so eventually I was released with a promise that they would be in contact again.

I let the police call Mitchell’s parents to deliver the horrific news. Probably cowardly, but I couldn’t deal with their despair. They lived in Seattle and said they’d fly down tomorrow. Mitchell was born in Portland, where he spent much of his childhood. His parents married young and his mother was a housewife. His father, Frank, worked for a pharmaceutical company for most of his career, until the company filed bankruptcy and Frank was laid off. Unemployment in Portland was high and Frank had a hard time finding a new job. He finally found a job at a medical research company in Sacramento and moved the family. That’s when we met. We spent most of our time playing outside or hanging out at my house. Even though I knew them for year, I wasn’t that close to his parents. Last year, Frank received a job offer at a biotechnology firm in Seattle. Mitchell already started college stayed here. Since the move, we haven’t seen his parents, so I figured letting the police make the call would be forgivable.

I drove home the next morning in a daze. My mind was numb with shock. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. I pulled into the garage and sat in the car for a long time. I was too afraid to walk inside; afraid I would see Mitchell standing there, judging me. I pictured the blanched skin on his sunken face, the blue hue on his lips, the haunting stare of his dead eyes open wide in outrage and disappointment. I shook my head to free the image.

You’re losing it Alexis!

I finally retreated from the car, but hesitated at the front door. My real fear was walking into an empty home; being truly alone. I took a deep breath, walked inside, and scampered directly toward the bedroom, my place of solace. But once I reached the doorway, I couldn’t bring myself to walk any further inside. I stood there, staring at our bed… My phone rang in my purse and I jumped. I couldn’t bear to talk to anyone. I dropped my purse and ran outside to the courtyard. I crumbled to the dirt and squeezed my arms around my knees. Waves of sorrow washed over me, crushing my lungs. My heart was torn from my chest and shredding into irreparable pieces. I couldn’t handle the struggle inside of me; my heart was breaking, but I was falling deeply in love at the same time. The conflicting heartache was torturous; I felt ashamed for loving Orion and disgraced for acting out my lust.

How did it happen? Was it a mugging gone wrong? How did I see it? Or… I mean, dreamt it? I didn’t see anyone else around. Was it real? Was I crazy?

My head began to pound.

Maybe it was Erebus? No, it couldn’t have been. He isn’t real! This isn’t real!

My head began to spin.

As much as I tried to convince myself that none of this was real, it didn’t change the fact that Mitchell was dead. Regardless of how it happened, it was
my
fault. It was my fault Mitchell was dead. He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me. It was my punishment for loving Orion and betraying Mitchell. My bad karma. Now I had to suffer with the guilt.

Why couldn’t I protect him? Maybe I really wanted him dead? It would break his heart to lose me. If he was dead, it would make it that much easier…

“No! Stop it!” I screamed.

The worst part was that even with his blood on my hands, all I wanted was to be with Orion. I wanted him to hold me and tell me it wasn’t my fault.

I closed my eyes. My mind raced with images of Mitchell’s smiling face, Orion laying naked on the bed, Michelle’s dead eyes smeared in blood, Orion sneering in disgust at me.

What’s wrong with me?! Stop thinking about Orion!

I hated myself - I hated everything about myself. I was so selfish.

“I’m so sorry, Mitchell,” I whimpered through sobs.

I wished someone could come take away this suffering. I looked up at the starry sky and thought of Orion’s sparking hazel eyes. I didn’t deserve him. I bet he knew how horrible a person I was. My life-long partner just murdered, yet my heart lusting for another.

I had never cried this hard before. I stayed outside for hours until the sky fell dark, refusing to fall asleep. The cold air sent chills through my bones like a rusted knife carving out my soul. I shivered and held my knees tighter, refusing to go inside. I couldn’t go on like this. I couldn’t keep living two separate lives. I didn’t know what was real or what I felt anymore. I had to end it with Orion and leave his world behind before he suffered the same fate as Mitchell. I was destined to suffer alone.

I pictured Orion’s face and my heart ached even more. I didn’t know what I would do without him. He was the breath that kept me alive inside. My heart, my head, and my body needed him so badly they burned. The one man I had fallen unequivocally in love with, and I knew I couldn’t keep him. I felt a crushing pain in my heart; someone was squeezing it tight, trying to make it burst.

I hated this! I vow to never love another, for as long as I breathe. Love scared me because love always comes with pain. Always. It either fades away to dust or ends through anger, hate, or death. But it
will
end. That part was inevitable. His love had already etched a scar on my heart that will never repair.

My eyes grew heavy and I struggled to keep them open.

“Stay awake!” I demanded.

I wasn’t ready to face Orion yet; too confused to trust my judgment and not sure how he would react.

Did he know what happened? What would he say? Was he ever jealous of Mitchell? Would he be relieved? Would he feel less guilty? Does he feel guilty at all?

I already knew the answers to those questions for him; I was just struggling with the answers for myself.

I spent the night curled up on the ground, refusing to fall asleep. Hunger and exhaustion deluded my mind as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Flashes of Mitchell and Orion danced around. I squeezed my eyes tight and covered my face, trying to keep the haunting images away, but it was no use. They fought their way back in, slowly torturing me.

I must have drifted asleep at some point during the chaos because the next thing I knew, birds were chirping in the trees above. I cracked open my crusted eyes and rolled over to my knees, steadily rising to my feet. If I really did fall asleep, that was the first time in months that I had not seen Orion.

I must not have fallen asleep. Or… maybe none of it was ever real? Maybe it was all a dream… a delusion that I created to escape my menial life and now it has been ripped away and replaced with the nightmare of a reality!

A sharp pain shot through my head and stopped my insanity for a moment. I trudged back inside and down the hall to the bedroom, pausing again at the door. It was eerily quiet inside. The neighborhood outside was waking up; a lawn mower hummed in the distance, a kid rode a skateboard down the street, and a car door slammed shut. But inside it was dead silent. DEAD silent.

No soft snoring in the bed.

No rustling sound of the morning paper at the breakfast bar.

No gentle footsteps down the hall.

Nothing.

Nothing ever again.

Fatigue hit me like a brick and my legs began to shake. I knew I should eat but the thought was revolting. I fell onto the bed face down. I couldn’t move an inch. I ordered my body to rise, but it didn’t obey. There was nothing left - nothing but a soulless corpse. I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

BANG, BANG, BANG!

I sat up in the dark room, disoriented.

Was I asleep?

I thought it was morning. The pounding grew louder. My mind cleared enough to realize that I was at home. I threw my legs over the bed and rushed to the door, part of me expecting to see Mitchell. I opened the door and a cool breeze from the night’s air pushed its way in. I focused on the figure before me.

“Mom?” my hoarse voice crumbled out.

“Alexis!” she cried as she took me in her arms.

Her scent was comforting and instinctively I wept. She didn’t say another word; she just held me and let me cry. Eventually, I released her and let her come inside. I dried my cheeks with the back of my sleeve. My raw skin stung from the salty tears and my mouth was so parched it burned. I swallowed to coat my aching throat but there was nothing left but a dry tongue. I drifted into the kitchen for a drink of water. Mom followed me quietly. I chugged the cold water too quickly; my empty stomach sent a disapproving shard. I leaned against a stool and wrapped my arms around my stomach. Without a word, Mom walked to the fridge and began making me something to eat.

The smell of the eggs and bacon sizzling in the pan made me nauseous, but I knew my body needed nourishment. I slumped over the counter in silence, staring out the window at the dark sky.

Mom finished cooking and slid a plate of hot food toward me. Reluctantly, I choked down the food, along with another glass of water. When finished, we moved to the living room and I curled up on the couch. The food was slowly beginning to ease my angry stomach.

“I brought you something,” she said, and pulled out a ragged old bunny from her handbag.

“What is it?” I asked.

As the words left my tongue, I knew the answer. It was my old stuffed bunny from when I was a child. It stayed on my bed with me throughout high school too. It wasn’t until I moved in with Mitchell, did it stay behind. I pulled it close for inspection. It still carried that familiar homey scent that brought back a small glimpse of my childhood innocence. I cracked a smile, although too small to be seen. Old bunny managed to soften the anguish for just a moment. I set the bunny down on the couch.

Mom scooted next to me and put her hand on my leg. “I’m sorry, honey.”

That was all she said. She didn’t try to pry out any details of what happened or ask me how I was doing. I guess she knew that none of that mattered right now. I suddenly became aware that this was probably what she felt when Dad died, but much deeper, and without the guilt.

“Does it get any better?” I cried, already knowing it doesn’t.

“Eventually,” she replied.

“I’m not sure if I even want that,” I whimpered, peering at the floor.

She didn’t answer. I supposed she understood.

That night, she stayed with me and slept in the spare room, although I didn’t go to sleep. I thought about all the things I’d miss with Mitchell gone… all the things I took for granted… the comfort I felt with him laying next to me with his soft snoring… the foot massages… the meaningless chitchat during dinner… the quiet hugs after a hard day… how he always anticipated when the gas in my car was low and filled it up for me… his warm smile. I missed Mitchell and regretted my betrayal. Waves of sorrow slammed against my chest continuously, which sent my heart pounding so loudly it echoed in my skull. I shivered. I felt like I was freezing, yet drenched in sweat.

I lay awake all night, fighting the urge to sleep. I wasn’t ready to see Orion yet. Not like this. If I saw him, I might feel happiness and that would be terribly wrong. The best thing for him was to be away from me. I didn’t want to poison his purity with my selfishness - my damaged soul. He probably was enjoying his freedom anyway.

Stop thinking about him, Alexis!

Trying to clear my mind, I rolled over… to the empty side of the bed. My heart sank when I saw the stark pillow. I cried uncontrollably again. My pillow was soaked with tears and my nose was plugged. I really did love Mitchell. Sometimes you take for granted the love you have for someone, until they are forever ripped away. I turned back over and tried again to clear my head. All I could think about was Orion or Mitchell.

Stop! Stop!

I turned to the clock and the time read 4:30 A.M. There was no point lying here any longer. I got out of bed and stood under the shower.

The next few days were a blur. I was stuck in my own personal nightmare. A stream of people shuffled past, giving their condolences and asking if I needed anything. I just shook my head, staring at the floor and trying to avoid eye contact, which inevitably brought on the flood of tears and pain. All I wanted was for everyone to leave me alone. Mitchell’s parents were in town, but hadn’t come over yet. I spoke with them briefly on the phone, and then let Mom deal with everything else.

That night, when I was finally alone, I lie in bed and let the currents of agony flow with no end in sight. I couldn’t complete a coherent thought. My mind was a jumbled mess of broken emotions. I couldn’t breathe, although somehow my body managed to go on without me. I eventually passed out from pure exhaustion, but only momentarily. I awoke an hour later to an empty cold room, my desolate soul tormented with despair and the endless guilt that continuously washed over me.

Mom and Mitchell’s parents planned the funeral – I couldn’t bring myself to help. Every question asked became a jumbled mess of confusion inside my head. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see were visions of Mitchell’s innocent face, reminding me of my treachery. Nearly every memory in my life had Mitchell in it. It should have been me who died, not him.