Dawn

The night before Eugene's release from a psychiatric prison, he is still haunted by his crime against Christabel.

Chapter One

Dawn

 

It was the wee hours of the morning when Eugene awoke screaming from another nightmare. Several seconds slipped by as he swallowed his heart back down to his chest, subdued the throbbing in his temples and reacquainted himself to the cold and dark that impregnated his body during waking hours. By which time he had caught a snatch of the jovial whistling slicing through the silence by one of the nurses coming up the corridor, edging closer towards his room.

           

He raised himself and sat by the edge of the bed, brought his hands up to his face and rubbed vigorously. He looked at the clock. Three-seventeen in the morning. He marvelled at the precision his nightmares took to timing his screams to the exact same time each night. They called up the dawn with a desperate, wounded howl that lamented its short-lived mating with the moon. A visceral pain then bloomed within him as he would, time and time again, at the exact same time, lay wide awake, eyes bloodshot and hands trembling. He could hear the whistling get closer and closer, until finally the door was unlocked and the light switched on.

 

“Same dream again, huh?” The short, chubby nurse leaned against the door and twirled his security card around in his fingers.

“Yeah....” Eugene covered his eyes from the stark artificial light and turned his face away from the nurse. “I’m ok now.”

“You might wanna clean yourself up?” The nurse chuckled.

“What?”

“You’ve never done that before.” The nurse pointed down to Eugene’s pants.

Eugene looked down. He had soiled himself. “F**k...”

“I’ll go get you some fresh trousers ok? Clean your face up, you look like the devil.” The nurse left locking the door behind him. The whistling resumed, fading down the corridor.

 

He got up and went to the sink to wash his face. His unkempt dirty brown hair fell into his eyes as he washed his face. The water was refreshing. He grabbed a towel and dried his face; it was then that he happened to catch his reflection in the mirror. His face, while during the years inside seemed so foreign to him, caught a glimpse of the boy he himself was all those years ago. All clarity and calmness fell through the floor as something sinister entered him. His haggard features, morphing before his eyes, giving him just a glimpse of the naive boy, then creasing back into the folds of worn, battered skin. She was entering him. His face married to the memory of her. It filled his veins with her poison, her sadness and loneliness, and most of all her rage. He stared back at his reflection and clutched the towel under his chin.

 

Eugene gazed solemnly at the bloodshot hazel green eyes that stared back at him. He stared hypnotised at the self inflicted burn marks and scars that etched his torso and arms. He caressed them with his fingertips. Someone else’s face looking back at him, someone else’s fingers touching his chest in the reflection. His nightmare played itself back to him in front of the mirror; every detail so easy to recall, like re-winding a film and playing back the gruesome scene.

A combination of a seventeen year old girl’s hair and blood that repeatedly appeared in that dream he dreamt. Strands of her full-bodied bloodied locks entwined around his fingers. Her pale complexion, bloodless lips illuminated by the rubicund richness of the blood splattered across her face. Each time he awoke, he had hoped to touch her ghost in the darkness in front him. There has been many a night too, where he could have sworn that with his eyes closed, he felt her body there; a weight and warmth that was exactly hers. Yet whenever he opened his eyes, nothing appeared but an infinite, limitless void that stretched out before and all around him.

 

            Suddenly, a gentle touch landed on his shoulder. Eugene jumped and cowered back into the wall.

“Didn’t ya hear me come in? Here.” The nurse threw a clean pair of pyjamas on the bed. He went to walk out but turned to Eugene, leaning on the door he said,

“I’m gonna miss you. You’re the easiest to tame of all the psycho criminals in here, all you do is beat yourself up and scream on cue each night.” A big belly laugh made his ample flesh ripple with his own humour.

Eugene blinked a few times, stared straight through the nurse and kept silent.

“Geez don’t look so excited. You’re going to be out of here! Freedom! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” the nurse exasperated. He shook his head as he left and locked the door behind him.

Eugene smirked. Freedom?...Freedom from what? No freedom from myself arsehole. He cocked his hand into the shape of a gun, aimed it at the locked door and pretended to shoot. F*****g retard...

 

He put the clean trousers on and sat at his small square table. He took out one of the many battered spiral spined notebooks with the pages crispy and torn from too much handling. He didn’t care much about freedom. What he did care about was the dead girl in his dreams...what he had done...and what he owed her. Endless lacerations to his mind and body no longer sufficed. No amount of self punishment and loathing would give him relief; or give him the answers, to an act he himself was most horrified to have committed. As everyone said, it just wasn’t possible; he wasn’t the kind of child to do such a thing...

 

He looked down at his journal, open on a blank page. It now had something written in it, something he had just written down without consciously realising it.

Within this world and within me, there is miraculous good and intolerable evil. In between these two is Christ-abel.

 

Author's Note

ANY, ANY feedback helps me...many thanks in advance!

Reviews

[Zachary_James]

GOOD,

[Dream Weaver]

The character devolpement is very good, and your
desciption is almost flawless...Should make for quite
a thriller...nicely done... L.D.