Morgan
Goodbye. It’s the last thing I said to my husband, and as I sit tucked up between the rock and the boulder I ventured away from earlier, I can’t help wondering if that was the last time I’ll ever get to say goodbye to Reid.
The fear lacing his tone was palpable. The few words he’d spoken screamed his torture. I want to take his pain away as much as I want to diminish my own. A tear springs to my eye, then rolls down my cheek. I jet my tongue out of the corner of my mouth and catch it. I’m so thirsty that this single tear is better than no liquid at all.
My mouth is bone dry. My tongue is rough like sandpaper. My lips sting and bleed. I’d give anything for a drink.
A powerful and painful growl vibrates in my stomach, telling me I’ve not eaten for days. I don’t feel hungry at all. Instead, I feel sick.
Bugs wiggle below the surface of my skin. I know they’re not there, even though my mind tries to convince me they are. I can visualise them moving in rows. I scratch at my skin. I bite at my wrists. I gnaw on my fingers.
I’m inside my own living hell.
My sight changes between hazy, spotty, and clear, and with these variations, my mind changes too. One minute I’m coming up with extravagant plans of escape, and the next I’m focused on the percentage marker that indicates how much battery power is left on the phone, willing it not to drain.
Darkness often threatens to sweep me away to a place where I’m unable to think, feel, or be aware. I fight it, but soon enough, I know I'll fail. It’s only a matter of time.
The need to sleep is causing my gritty eyes to sting, and keeping them from closing becomes more difficult each time a rush of tiredness whizzes around my brain. I’m too scared to rest, so I continue fighting to stay awake, but after what feels like the hundredth time, I’m not strong enough to make it through the brain-numbing sensation. With the last flutter of my eyelids, I moan. “Shit.”
I’m walking down the long hallway separating each office space from the other. When I reach the end of the corridor, I’ll enter my door. Each step I take gets quicker as excitement bubbles deep down in my gut, but I’m not sure why I’m feeling so damn excited.
The corridor suddenly fills with blinding light; it’s so powerful that I shield my eyes and tuck my chin to my chest.
“Hello,” I whisper, unsure of what’s happening.
There’s no answer.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Linda twirls her finger into her red hair as she smacks gum loudly and smiles in my direction. The light has disappeared, and I’m now sitting at my desk at work. I feel irritable. Stressed. Overwhelmed.
“What’s wrong?” Linda tilts her head to the side.
“So busy,” I moan.
“Tell me about it. It’s been a crazy week all around. I wish I never came back from Canberra now. How are you holding up?”
“I’m pissed about the entire situation, to be honest. I knew that we were going to sink into hot water with George Anderson’s account, yet I still took part.”
“Union Sully said death threats came in today.”
I nod. “It was a major blunder, and I’m not sure how the company will fix this.”
“Don’t even worry about it. You played such a small part that it will have no bearing on you.”
“Hmmm,” I groan.
“Maybe we should both go to Canberra until the heat dies down.”
“About that.” I twist my chair until my shoulders are square in front of Linda. “Do you think Reid is acting weird?”
Linda shrugs. “I haven’t seen him since I got back.”
“Was he acting weird in Canberra?”
“Wouldn’t know. I only saw him briefly. We had a drink. I told him about the boring-as-fuck conference I sat through, and he told me about the riveting one he’d enjoyed.”
“That sounds about right with you two.”
“Things got worse with him and you? Is he still being short-tempered? An arsehole?”
“Yep.” I roll my eyes. A horrible itch circles my wrist. I scratch at it manically.
“You look pale. You’re sweating, but you’re shaking, and scratching. Why is your office so cold? How high have you cranked the air?”
“I am?” I run my trembling hand across my brow, and it’s damp. “I hadn’t realised. Maybe this major fuck-up is messing with my head even more than I realised. Or it could be hormones.” I know why it’s happening. I need more of my pain pills. I need a fix. I need the drugs that are controlling my life.
This seems to be something I’m experiencing more and more as the weeks pass. I need to stop taking all these pills. I don’t even have pain. I’m not suffering from anxiety, and opiates? What the hell am I thinking?
Snap, snap.
I look to Linda, who snaps her fingers once more. “Earth to Morgan.”
“Huh?”
“You just spaced out.”
“I did.”
She bobs her head. “Maybe you’re coming down with something?”
“Yeah, that’s probably it.”
“I better run.” Linda’s lips stretch across her face before she turns on her heel, and I watch her clear the doorway and shuffle past the window.
“Thank fuck she’s gone.”
My bag is tucked under the drawers at my desk. I lean down and search for its strap and then reef it onto my lap. The long zipper peels back with ease, and without looking at the labels on the little orange bottles, I clutch two. Using my teeth to pry open the lids has me pouring pills into my cupped palms. I throw my head back, drop six tablets into my mouth, and chase them down with the bottle of water I retrieve from my desk.
Get a grip, Morgan.
“Conference room now.” I only see a flash of Brett when he says this.
Before I even stand, the room fills with the same blinding light I experienced before, only this time the light fades to complete darkness. I run, my hands in mid-air, trying to locate my desk. Nothing.
“Hello?” I call with a rattle to my voice.
There’s no answer.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Each beat of my heart is so loud it echoes around my head. “Hello?”
“Red, do you want to play my game?” There’s an eerie laugh. “You need to be punished. What did you do, Morgan?”
“Nothing.” I walk, trying and navigate the pitch black with my outstretched arms.
“You will pay for what you’ve done.” His voice is familiar, deep.
There’s whistling.
I step forward and press all my weight on my front foot as I think to run, but before I get the chance, my ankle is ripped out from under me and I face plant the ground with a loud huff expelling from my chest.
“You’re the thirteenth bitch to play my game.”
“What game?” It’s barely audible.
“The Game of Life.”
Pressure is applied to my neck. My face heats as I struggle to claim any air.
“Who are you?” I choke as my eyes become saucers.
“I’m your worst nightmare.”
Booming laughter.
My eyes shoot open. My arms wrap around something hard.
I heave. I cough. I gasp.
“Help.” It’s a weak deliverance.
Every breath I take becomes slower and steadier. The colours, grey, green, brown, and blue, all blur together into a giant mass until eventually they even out and I see trees, leaves, the sky, and then a rock wall.
It was a dream. I slept.
Oh fuck. Is the wolf close?