The Watch – Part 243:

(Tom’s perspective)

I don’t know anything anymore. I’m tired, I’m exhausted, and I’m in pain. I’m sitting here, staring at the floor, shaking, trying to believe that I am not in a dream, yet having that strong certainty that I am.

If I don’t believe that I am in a dream, then closing my eyes and waking up here would convince me of that. That sounds wrong. I don’t want to wake up here… Oh, I just want to get some sleep. I just want a dreamless sleep, that is all I want, is that too much to ask.

OK, I’m going to lie down here, and close my eyes. If anything happens, then I will just have to deal with it, but for now, I am simply going to close my eyes and get some sleep. Please.

Curling up on the floor, I continue to shake uncontrollably. I’m still in shock with what’s going on. I haven’t closed my eyes yet. If I do, will I stop shaking, I don’t know. When I closed my eyes earlier, my headache went away. But that was in a dream. But what if I am in a dream? I can’t keep going round and round in circles.

OK, I’m closing my eyes.

I close them, then immediately open them again. I’m so scared. I can’t sleep. I just can’t. I continue to lay on my side, my hands and legs shaking violently.

‘Help.’

‘HELP YOURSELF,’ I yelled. I didn’t know where that came from. I didn’t know that I had enough. I just yelled. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m sorry to whoever I yelled at. They’re going through the same hell as I am. I’m so sorry. Thinking an apology isn’t going to solve anything. I need to say it.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. Silence. Nothing. I didn’t mean to shout, I really didn’t. I’m a total mess.

‘I’m sorry,’ the stranger said. I could hear it in his voice that he meant it. He was truly sorry for making me angry, even though he has nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that is sorry for shouting at him. I need to insist that I am the one that is sorry. At least it will prevent me from closing my eyes.

I laid here, counting the seconds off one by one, preparing to force myself to sit up. I may be weak, but I will not allow myself to allow him to feel bad for what I did.

One. Two. Three. Heave.

I sat upright. The shaking eased slightly, but I still had no control. The more I move, the more it will ease, hopefully.

One. Two. Three. Heave.

I pushed myself towards the bed, grabbing the end with my hands and with all the strength that I could muster, I pulled myself up until I was kneeling. I couldn’t believe it, I still had energy. I will not let the rest of my energy go to waste.

‘Where are you?’ I intended to shout that to get his attention, but it came out as a whisper instead. ‘Where are you?’ I said a little louder. Breathing in deeply, I shouted, ‘WHERE ARE YOU?’

Silence. Nothing. Say something, anything, just let me know that you’re still there.

‘Over here.’ OK, I can work with that. His voice came from… from… I need him to say it one more time.

‘Over here,’ he said as if he knew what I was thinking. I knew where he was. He was in the cell next to mine.

One. Two. Three. Heave.

Lifting myself onto the bed, I discovered a clear window with no bars, but it was clearly too small for me to climb through, or for anyone at that matter. Placing my hands on the ridge, I pushed myself up so that I was kneeling on the bed, and continued until I was standing. I could feel my legs giving way, but I forced myself to stay straight.

I have no idea why I need to do this, all I know is that I must tell him that it was my fault and that he has nothing to be sorry for. That is all I want to do. I’ve never felt like this before. Something’s different about me. Is this a sign that I am dreaming: Acting out of character? Or am I actually acting out of character. Maybe I’ve always been this way but it took something this extreme to finally make this side of me reveal itself? Whatever the answer, I will complete what I’ve gotten up to do.

I have no idea who he is, and at this point I’m too tired to ask. All I want to do is say that I am sorry and that will be it.

With one final heave, I am standing up straight on the bed, looking through the window. I see the same set up as the one I’m in now, but there, laying on the floor, curled up in a ball, a man: His clothes torn, his skin broken, and he too is shaking uncontrollably.

‘Hey, listen,’ I said. He slowly moved his head, looking up at me.

‘I’m…’ and then my legs gave way. I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t control it. I collapsed on the bed and that’s where I laid. I had failed in letting him know that it was my fault. And now he may never know. He may never know my intentions. My eyelids started to drop. They were too heavy for me to stop them, even as scared as I am. My shaking stopped. I can feel myself losing consciousness. Where am I going to wake up next? All I hope is that it will be a much better place than this.

‘Thank you,’ I heard the man’s faint voice say. That as all I needed. And then I let myself go. I let my body relax, my fear be defeated, and my mind to drift away.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Thanks for reading

Antony Hudson

(TonyHadNouns)