Winnie's Dreams

“Get up, do something with your day, for once!” I jumped at his booming voice and looked at him with startled eyes. He was standing in front of my chest of drawers, glaring down at me. He gave a small chuckle when he saw my reaction and looked around at the belongings on top of the drawers intrusively. He had a tendency to do this. No matter how many times we’d argued, he would visit unannounced — just to make a point. I told him I didn’t want him around, that he should leave, and that I would be better off without him. However, today he was right. I had been asleep on my bed for an afternoon nap, doing nothing with my day.

“Don’t laugh at me,” I responded as I sat upright to face him. I don’t know why I said that. It was an open invitation for him to attack me where it hurt. He laughed again.

“I said — don’t laugh at me! Get out!” I shouted sternly as I got up and began walking towards the drawers where he stood. He didn’t move.

“Make me! I live here just as much as you do. You can’t tell me to leave. You know this!” His voice boomed back even louder. The smirk on his face made my blood boil. My steps grew quicker. How long can I put up with him? I am so tired. He started coming towards me too, getting closer. I made a quick decision and lunged at him, crashing into the drawers. I heard a smash as my belongings fell to the floor, and I scrambled to grab them before he got to me. My knuckles bled.

“Get out! Get out!” I screamed, throwing the objects as hard as I could to protect myself. I could hear his footsteps. I continued screaming and fell to the floor in fear, closing my eyes as tightly as I could. Maybe someone would hear me and help. Hands grabbed my arms as I struggled against the grip, kicking as hard as I could to break free.

I was pulled up from the floor in one swift motion, and I opened my eyes to see a woman bending down, saying something to me. Her voice slowly came into focus as I caught my breath and looked around the room for him.

“Help me,” I said in a shaky, pleading voice.

“I am, I am…” she responded softly as she guided me towards the door. I tried to turn around, but my hands were being tightly held. I managed to glimpse behind me to see him, but all I saw were my drawers and a smashed mirror hanging from the wall — covered in blood.

I left through the door with the woman and entered a bright white corridor lined with numbered doors and thick glass windows. My bare feet dragged along the polished floor, buckles binding my legs together.

I glanced back at the door I had left. As it slowly shut, the lights shone against the glass, casting the reflection of the man staring back at me.

Because no matter where they take me, he’s always here.