A kiss to tell ( jenlisa ) (GIP)

Part 11

J

They feel so real. That's why I can't shake them.

The nightmares are something I was used to when I hadn't come to terms with the reality.

My mother's gone.

She died years ago.

I remind myself once again and blow across the top of the full cup of tea in my hands, but it's no longer hot, it's barely lukewarm. I've only just now realized I must have been holding it for a while without even taking a single sip. I'm slow to set the cup down on the end table and then reach for the blanket. My fingers grip on to the soft woven fabric like it can save me. Just as I used to think when I was a child.

My mother's gone.

She died years ago.

It was hard to say the words back then, but I have to keep saying them now.

Not because I don't believe them, but because every time I fall asleep now, she's there, haunting me and saying things that scare me. Things she knows would put true fear into my heart. She's reminding me of memories I've long buried.

She's angry and wants revenge for what happened. I can feel it. Her killer joining her six feet in the dirt isn't enough justice. She's starved for more. A taste of his blood wasn't enough.

When I wake up breathless and terrified by how realistic the dreams are, I can feel the weight of her hand gripping my arm, but no sane person would believe me. I would just sound crazy.

I'm going crazy. I know that's what they'd say and as I pull my knees into my chest on the sofa, I struggle to deny it. I'm fucking insane.

All I can think, is that whatever Lisa gave me is fucking with my head. I can't sleep without seeing her, without feeling her. I swear the scratch on the back of my neck is from her.

I don't want to go to sleep. I only took the sweets, as Lisa calls it, that one time, but I've been so fucked up since then. Although, so much more has happened since then too.

My fingers press into my tired eyes, feeling the burning need to sleep and I remember how I woke up last night, sweating, crying, my throat raw as if I'd been screaming. I prayed like I'd never prayed before and when I whispered for someone to help me, I felt the coldness of her presence. As the chill traveled up my spine, I swear I heard my mother whisper, "I am."

A sudden knock at the door has my heart galloping in my chest. Two days of not sleeping but also not knowing what to do has left me jolting at every sudden sound.

"Jen," I hear Lisa's voice call out through the front door and she knocks again as she says, "Open up."

Just hearing her voice is calming, and I easily swing my legs down and listen to my bare feet pad across the floor as I go to unlock the door and let her in.

I swing open the door without even looking in the small mirror in the hall to see if I look presentable. I'm sure I look like hell, and I wouldn't keep her waiting, so it doesn't matter anyway.

With her hand still raised to knock again, we both stand there for a moment, waiting for the other to say something. I swallow thickly, feeling the nervousness rise up again. She's never taken so long to say anything before.

"You look like you're ready for me to drag you to bed," she finally tells me and then steps inside, not waiting for me to invite her in.

"If you're lucky, I'd let you." I try to make it sound like a joke, but at this point, I would. "I feel like I'm going to fall over," I tell her groggily and turn my back on her to saunter back to the living room, but she grabs my wrist as she kicks the door shut behind her.