I don't dream all that often.
When I do, it ain't nice.
And tonight isn't really any exception, though it's probably one of my more tame dreams. Acid dreams are the worst. Tonight, I'm just treated to a replay of those memories that Gemme showed me.
Was that really me? Did I really beat this girl up and claim to care for her? Don't get me wrong, though. I don't like the idea of hitting girls, mainly because my dad was a wife beater and when you hit a guy, he doesn't scream at you or beg for you to stop. Not unless he's a real wuss. And definitely not the way my mom cried out. Or this Emily.
This memory dream thing isn't exactly what Gemme showed me. It's worse than the things Gemme showed me, but I get the sickening feeling that I went beyond even this. Emily cowers, cornered up away from the door or the window and I'm less than a foot away from her, my right hand curled up in a tight fist, my other hand lifting up for her throat. I grab her neck and force her to look at me and the worst part about this is I'm enjoying the look of terror in her eyes as she reluctantly meets my gaze for a split second, before looking away again.
My dad, after my mom had managed to escape, always told me about how the woman belongs to the man. And if the woman gets something wrong, even something small, she has to be punished. In his eyes, what he did to my mom was always perfectly acceptable. And in this dream, what I'm doing to Emily is perfectly acceptable too. My fist collides with her stomach and she doubles over gasping for air, leaning into me for support, but I step back, letting her fall.
And then I wake up.
It's dark. I don't think I was even asleep long. Gemme's still curled up against me but I can't tell if she's awake or not.
It doesn't really matter, because my eyes slide shut again and darkness swallows me.
You know how using my healing power takes energy? Well, resisting the healing makes me even more tired. It's weird, I know, but it means that I simply fall asleep again and don't feel a thing until the morning.
Gemme, for once, is still asleep when I wake up. Not wanting to disturb her, I slip out of the bed as quietly as I can, pick up my clothes and go back to the bathroom. When I get out of the shower, that pink patch on the floor is still really bugging me. I tried, at least. Never cleaned a thing in my life and now, I can see why. I'm useless.
So I find myself attacking it again.
"Damn fucking blood!" I yell at the stain. Yes. I'm on my hands and knees, scrubbing at the stain with bath tub cleaner. I don't notice Gemme walking in and standing in the door way giving me a "what-the-fuck!?" look, until I glance up.
"Luca, just leave it. It's fine," she says and I shake my head.
"It's bugging me," I mutter. That and it's keeping my mind occupied.
"Just is. I make loads of mess and never clear it up. You shouldn't have to always clear up after me. I don't wanna make you clear up my blood, either," I say, talking into the floor as I concentrate on getting the pinkness out from between the tiles.
"... I'll leave you to it then," she mumbles and I look up.
"Sorry, did you want to use the bathroom?" I ask.
"No, just wondered what you were yelling at."
"Just... me, really," I shrug and sit back on my heels. "You okay?"
"I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?" well, let me think for a second. Attempted suicide and all that crap yesterday? I can't be bothered to get into an argument again, though, so I just shrug again and smile vaguely.
"No reason, I guess," I find myself muttering.
"You want something to eat or something? I think we have bacon." Bacon? I can't remember the last time I had bacon. Well, unless you count the processed crap you get in ready meals.
"If you're making it," I say, more inclined to ignore the quiet rumble my stomach lets out at that point. My stomach always betrays me. Not that cleaning blood off the bathroom floor is exactly appetizing, but there you go.
"Sure." She giggles and disappears downstairs. I smile as her footsteps fade away for a moment, before turning back to the floor. It's a very pale pink now, rather than the dark pink it had been last night after I gave up. If you squint at it, you can't see it at all. I sigh and throw the sponge in the sink, grabbing my broken razor off the side of the sink.
As I walk downstairs with it, Gemme calls "just a little longer". I wander into the kitchen, shove the razor in the trash compactor and breathe in the smell of the fresh bacon.
I stand behind Gemme and put my hands on her hips, leaning over to look in the pan as I kiss her on the cheek. She smiles and turns off the electric hotplate, moving away to put the bacon in a sandwich. She hands me mine and I take it from her with a mumbled thanks as I sit at the table with it.
The sandwich doesn't last long. I'm hungrier than I thought. I look up and realise Gemme isn't eating.
"You're not having any?" I ask as I swallow the last mouthful.
"I'm a vegetarian," she tells me simply and I'm glad I'm not holding anything, because I would have dropped it.
"How can you be a veggie?" I ask incredulously. Even fake meat tastes good. And by fake I mean the kind that's been processed so many times you're not sure what animal it came from anymore and you just have to trust what the label says.
"Easily, actually. If you haven't noticed I don't eat much anyway." I had noticed.
"No wonder you're so small," I grin, looking around as Ben wanders in, yawning. Bed hair never did suit him. Today is no exception. "Hey hobo," I laugh as he gets a glass of water. He sticks his middle finger up at me and I turn my attention back to Gemme, smiling still. You think I'm bad in the mornings? He's worse.
"Hey, what I eat has nothing to do with my height, my waist... prolly." I arch an eyebrow.
"It would have made a difference when you were younger. My mom was a whore, but she still forced me to eat my greens," I grimace at the memory of disapproving glares in the evening if I didn't finish my dinner.
"I ate my greens to! It was the meat..." I laugh slightly as she says this.
"Excuses, excuses, shorty." I grin.
"Hey! I'm not that short!" I try to hide my smirk, but I think I fail. "Ben, tell him!" All eyes on Benny.
"Urgh," he groans, still leaning against the counter where he was stood with his drink. To be honest, I think he had fallen back to sleep standing there. Gemme giggles. And the guy calls me useless.
"Sleep well?" Gemme asks him. He looks at her like he only just realised she's there.
"I think so. Your cat makes noise." He grumbles, putting the glass back on the counter before he can drop it. I'm very tempted to make it throw its contents over him.
"Well, he's a cat, cat's can make noise. I can shut him up if you want me to."
"I think he's still waiting to be fed from that time ages ago, to be honest," he half smiles tiredly.
"I know, I know," She sighs, "I'll be back... I should get changed too." I smile as Benny just nods sleepily, looking like he's about to fall asleep again.