The Good Enemy

Chapter Two

THE LEFT WING

Looking down at my legs, there is water all the way up to my knees. It's freezing, my feet feel numb. I slowly lift my hands, gasping at the sight of all the blood they are covered in. I shudder, trembling. My lungs feel like they are shutting down on me. 

"No! Wine!" I hear Mae scream and I turn sharply as fear grips me. The loud cry of an infant fills the air, but Mae is nowhere in sight. 

"Mae! Mae!" I call, frantically shaking as I take small steps towards a door where all the water and crying seems to be coming from. The once clear water begins to turn bloody red, and I struggle to move. My legs are shaky and weak. I continue to scream for Mae; squeezing my chest and gasping for air. 

"Wine," Mae calls from behind me and I turn sharply to nothing but darkness. The sound of the child crying intensifies, and out of nowhere, Mae plunges towards me with a knife.

I gasp, springing up from my bed, struggling to breathe as I tremble. My shirt is soaked in sweat. 

"Witthaya," Po calls from the corner of my room, startling me. "Calm down, son. It's just me." He walks over to the bed, a cup in his hand. "Some chamomile?" he offers, taking a seat beside me. With shaky hands, I take the cup and sip. 

"Thank you, Po. Sorry for waking you up." 

He shakes his head. "Did you have them while you were in the U.S?" 

"Barely." I take another sip. 

"I thought the new doctor was helping?" 

"Po, we only started our sessions two weeks ago. Don't worry about it." 

He exhales and taps my shoulder. "Try and get some sleep." 

I nod and he gets up and leaves.

Like I said, Po isn't a man of many words. 

Sleep has eluded me since my return to Thailand. My nightmares have become frequent, it hasn't been this bad since before university. Dr. Rueng's approach is quite different from other therapists I have worked with. She is keen on learning about my childhood, my day-to-day life struggles, how I handle different situations, how I react to them rather than deciphering my dreams and understanding them. 

Although my dreams scare me, I feel a sense of familiarity in them. It's the same dream over and over again. Sometimes, Mae comes at me, other times the water drowns me. I feel like it's happened before, like there is something I am supposed to know, to recognize, but I don't. I take off my sweaty shirt, toss it to the ground and lay back in bed, watching the ceiling fan turn. 

***

"We are the same age, I think. The way she spoke to me was kind of condescending to be honest. Like she thinks she's better than me or something," I say, looking down at the deep blue pool.

"She did get her PhD in finance at twenty-one, and I hear she has more than one PhD. She might be better than all of us," Plerng replies.

"Have you met her?" 

"No, the woman rarely attends events— I met her sister once in Paris, Junta Cheng. Ugh... The way I would sell my soul for a chance to bury my head in between her legs." 

I sigh, shaking my head. "Didn't you say the family gives you psychopath vibes?"

"Yes. But I love psychopaths. It never gets boring with them. So many hidden layers."