Awoken

Alen Daemons woke up abruptly; flinging his body up, and pressing his hands to his forehead. He was drenched with cold sweat that still streamed down his face. He took in a gasp, as if the awaking had shocked him. But it did not. No, he’s had this dream before. Many, many, times before. And just like all those time, he will forget it.

He brushed his damp fringe back with the palm of his hand, glancing over at the other side of the bed. A women’s back faced him, pale as a ghost. Her blonde hair fall around her back like a curtain. Alen sat there, staring at her back, trying to remember her name. It started with an “A”. Alex? Ann? No. He couldn’t remember. She shuffled a little in her sleep, but kept asleep. Her breathing was quiet, he could barely hear her. If he didn’t know better, he might of thought of her as dead.

(maybe it would be better that way)

No. He shook his head. No. He wasn’t a killer — a murderer. But…yet, there was something that continued to itch his conscious with this thought. Why? He didn’t know himself. She moved again, but this time, it was more sudden. She now faced him, her wide eyes staring back at him. Wide blue eyes. Almost the same shade as his. He stared back at her, neither eyes blinking once. Then the thought came to him–

(Alice)

That was her name. Alice. Such a simple name…

She drew herself up, the sheets of the bed no longer covering her chest. She bent over the side of the bed to pick up a t-shirt. She pulled it on. She then looked back at him, he almost wished she hadn’t. “How long have you been up?” She asked. She drew her fingers through her slightly messy hair.

“Sorry did I wake you?” Alen replied. His eyes flickered from her to the bed.

“No,” she said, her voice quiet; raspy. A low voice, that would sound seductive to most men, but to Alen, it was just another voice. He thought for a moment if he should respond. ‘Good’, me might say. He decided not to in the end. A waste of breath.

A movement came to the corner of his eye, Alice pressed her hand on his bare shoulder. He drew back. Her hand remained held in the same position, her expression the same. “No?”

“No.” He said, almost a whisper. Her eyes closed. She pulled her hand back.

“Then what?” Her voice was thick. Her eyes, her eyes were narrowed. She was angry. Alen wasn’t surprised. “I can’t touch you anymore, Alen. I try to do anything–” She moved her hand back to Alen, he slipped away. “See? What’s wrong? Is it me?” Alen was silent. “What is it? It’s like I’m a monster…I can’t even kiss you anymore without you being disgusted with me. I want to love you, Alen. What’s wrong with me?” Her eyes were glossy. She glanced at him for an answer, but he had none.

“Alice…” He started. “I don’t–”

“Don’t know? You don’t know?” She started to shout. She slipped out of the bed and gathered her clothes. She held them in her face, “These– you see these? I took them off. For you! But you did nothing.” She sloppily put her clothes on, furious. Alen could only watch her. When she finished, she went out the door, slamming it behind her. “Call me when you’re better.” She told him.

Alen sat there for a moment. How can I get better if I don’t know what’s wrong with me? He thought.