Mist (part 5)

Do I make it sound as if we were unhappy? If so, I give you the wrong impression. I’ve told you of the nights full of passion. Then she’d smile at me and I could feel her fragile shoulder blades and spine. We would ask each other cheesy questions, such as “What would you do if you had one more day to live?”
“I’d go running around. And you would have to accompany me”, she once said.
“Just running around?”
“And I’d be playing music all day long, and I’d hug everyone. I’d eat delicious things. But, actually, I would not be able to choose and then I’d just sit at home and regret spending my last day like that.”
I lay down again, so I could look her straight in her eyes.
“I’d accompany you anyway.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Other times we’d play silly games, which were so much fun. It mostly ended up with both of us trying to convince the other of our victory. In the end, we made up again, with the sweetest kisses and caresses. Sometimes, we resembled those silly books with love stories.

Other times, it was more like horror. In the darkness of the bedroom, we lived terrible moments. I remember one night when she suddenly kicked me. I woke up, confused and slightly shocked. She was pushing me away, and murmured something, still asleep I believe.
“Mist… Mist, what’s the matter?”
She opened her eyes, all scared and trembling.
“Yes, I’m here. What’s going on? Why were you kicking me?”
“Was I?”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I -”
She was breathing heavily but irregularly, and I started to worry.
“I was dreaming”, she said.
“It’s okay”, I tried to comfort her. “Nevermind.”
“I’m sorry, William.”
She came closer and fell asleep in my arms.

Situations like this occurred more and more often. Some nights, I heard her breathing going wrong, and then I knew something would happen. Once, in the middle of the night, she jumped up, ready to run away, but she stumbled.
I jumped up too, and took her by her wrists.
“Mist! It’s okay!”
At that point, I was already getting used to her behaviour, so I was prepared. But not for this. Her eyes were wide open, she was shaking heavily, and she was fighting me off.
“Let me go!”
“Mist! It’s me!”
But she didn’t recognise me, she kicked me, twisted, turned. I was afraid to hurt her, and right when I thought I had to let her go, her breathing became heavier and she didn’t oppose anymore. It was like energy was flowing away, I could almost feel it.
“Let me go, let me go, let me go…”
“Mist, it’s me…”
“Just don’t… Don’t keep me here…”
“Lie down.”
She started struggling again, but it was obvious that she lacked the strength to do so.
“Lie down.”
“Don’t do it. I don’t want it!”
Her eyes were turning, she was growing weaker every second. Eventually, she had to lie down, because she had no more power to resist. I held her hands and waited. It took hours, it seemed, before she opened her eyes again and her breathing had returned to normal. She saw me and asked: “What’s happened?”
“You started panicking, I think.”
“I don’t have control anymore”, she sighed, before she fell asleep again.

The next day, she seemed to be exhausted.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Do you remember what’s happened tonight?”
“Barely.” There was fear in her eyes. Then she placed her hand on my cheek. “I’ve changed you.”
“I made you worried.”
“I am worried about you.”
“What have I done?”
“You kicked me, tried to fight me off.”
“I feel so haunted, William.”
“By what?”
“If only I knew!”
She sighed, and I embraced her, and I feared breaking her. She was so damn fragile, and I felt rude.
“Sometimes”, she murmured, “I’m so sick of the world.”

But when the sun returned, she changed again, and her face closed once more. I mean, she was still her very own self, her very own unique personality, but it was like the essence, the truth and thoughts were all locked up, only to be revealed in nightmares and fear during the night. It wasn’t just two sides. It was more like shadows that always surrounded her, but they were only visible at certain (terrifying) moments. However hard I tried to make them go away, I never succeeded. She smiled, she laughed, she was kind and funny, and yet…

One morning, I asked her: “Are you happy?”
“I will never be happy.”
“Why not?”
“Is it possible to be happy anyway?”
“Is it due to me?”
“To you?” She seemed to be surprised.
“Is it my fault? Am I forcing you? Am I too old for you?”
She said nothing, but she took my hand and held it with both her small and soft hands. For a moment, I was afraid she was going to say yes. What if, all that time, she actually didn’t want me? What if I…? I closed my eyes to chase the thoughts away.
I opened my eyes again, only to see hers fixed on me.
“It’s never your fault, William.”
I could feel her rings, cold and hard on my hands, and yet so satisfying. They were a part of her. Anything that belonged to her was great to me. After all, my obsession had only become worse. She was different from what I had wished for, but she was better.
Yes, she was better than what I had imagined, even though it was terrible to see her fading away.

In the end, I believe I’d do it all over again. She made us suffer, but somehow, it was all worth it.

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  1. Awesome work, my friend.

  2. Top stuff!

  3. Combine all parts into its own page please! That will make it easier to catch up on.


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