[kinesophobia]
I'm in the kitchen buttering my toast.
"Hey Reese."
"Hey Evie."
He sits down at the counter. More toast pops up between us. I'm smiling.
"Hey Reese?"
"Yeah, Evie?"
"You wanna see something cool?"
I place my hand out on the chilly marble counter top, palm down, fingers spread. I'm grinning at him. He's grinning back. I raise my hand up. There's still butter on the knife. And then I plunge the knife down into my hand.
I wake up. I try sitting up, but I'm so exhausted that I lay right back down again. Immediately I'm back in the kitchen, pulling the butter knife out of my hand and slamming it in again. I sit up, my eyes fluttering open. But I'm so tired. I don't feel myself laying back down.
On my third attempt I manage to wake myself up fully. I shake my head trying to get the images out. I might have been repeating this pattern of half-waking for five minutes or five hours.
Rubbing my eyes hurts, but I do it anyway. The room is too dark. I stand up and fumble towards the television. I feign lethargy. I'm hoping that the monsters in the dark corners of the room will take pity on me in my tired state.
The television flickers on, and I'm slowly bathed in the warm light of a sitcom rerun. I scan the room quickly. Empty, just as it should be. Not completely convinced, I bend down and look under the bed.
The dream has left an unsettling feeling under my skin. I go past the closet, not bothering to check it. Across the hallway is my sister's room. It's almost completely dark, save for the faint light of a neighbor's backyard motion detector that just barely casts a glow into the room. It's so dim that I have to bend down until I'm an inch away from her face.
She's alive, or at least breathing.I feel better.
The bed is still warm when I get back in. I flip the pillow over to the fresh side and wedge my feet in between the cold wall and the itchy sheets on the mattress. I turn my head away from the television.
A thought occurs to me, and I sit up. I settle back on my feet. I stare wide-eyed into the darkness. The bedroom door is still open, and I can see into my sister's room. I can barely make out shadows of furniture in the glow.
And then the television cuts to black screen.
"Hey Reese."
"Hey Evie."
He sits down at the counter. More toast pops up between us. I'm smiling.
"Hey Reese?"
"Yeah, Evie?"
"You wanna see something cool?"
I place my hand out on the chilly marble counter top, palm down, fingers spread. I'm grinning at him. He's grinning back. I raise my hand up. There's still butter on the knife. And then I plunge the knife down into my hand.
I wake up. I try sitting up, but I'm so exhausted that I lay right back down again. Immediately I'm back in the kitchen, pulling the butter knife out of my hand and slamming it in again. I sit up, my eyes fluttering open. But I'm so tired. I don't feel myself laying back down.
On my third attempt I manage to wake myself up fully. I shake my head trying to get the images out. I might have been repeating this pattern of half-waking for five minutes or five hours.
Rubbing my eyes hurts, but I do it anyway. The room is too dark. I stand up and fumble towards the television. I feign lethargy. I'm hoping that the monsters in the dark corners of the room will take pity on me in my tired state.
The television flickers on, and I'm slowly bathed in the warm light of a sitcom rerun. I scan the room quickly. Empty, just as it should be. Not completely convinced, I bend down and look under the bed.
The dream has left an unsettling feeling under my skin. I go past the closet, not bothering to check it. Across the hallway is my sister's room. It's almost completely dark, save for the faint light of a neighbor's backyard motion detector that just barely casts a glow into the room. It's so dim that I have to bend down until I'm an inch away from her face.
She's alive, or at least breathing.I feel better.
The bed is still warm when I get back in. I flip the pillow over to the fresh side and wedge my feet in between the cold wall and the itchy sheets on the mattress. I turn my head away from the television.
A thought occurs to me, and I sit up. I settle back on my feet. I stare wide-eyed into the darkness. The bedroom door is still open, and I can see into my sister's room. I can barely make out shadows of furniture in the glow.
And then the television cuts to black screen.