Split Person

Split Person

J. N. Cloutier

     Out of breath, she stopped. Although he was gaining on her, she could not get herself to continue running. "I give up," she thought. "There's no way that he will not take me." Defeated, she turned to face her attacker.

Wait.

     Maybe...just maybe she could grab a stick nearby and swing it at him. It would definitely do some damage. She could knock his knees or hit his head. Possibly. It was worth a shot.

     The masked man was now within a few feet of her and an evil grin played on his face. Quickly, like a squirrel frantically gathering nuts, she leap for the stick and returned to her spot. The man advanced with a greedy look. He soon reached her; she swung...

.  .  .  .  .

     Nicole sat up on the small couch. This dream was nothing new; it never failed to remind instill an alert feeling within the depths of her being. She could never grasp its meaning or understand why she had this horrible nightmare. She hated to think about it so she ignored the feelings, thoughts, and alertness when she went to school. 

     Seventh grade was difficult for a thirteen-year-old, especially because they had moved to Fayettville at the beginning of the school year. Finally, next week, the school year would be over. She would soon be free for the summer. Nicole's father walked into the apartment's living room.

"Why are you not in school?" He spoke gruffly.

"It's Saturday..." Nicole dragged the words.

"Oh," the realization dawned on him. "Well, I'm headed out to Charley's Pub."

"It's only 7:30am!" She blinked in surprise.

"So?" Her dad challenged.

She scrambled for a good answer. "Well," she hesitated. "Normally, you go on Saturday around...umm...lunch."

"Today is a different Saturday," he said dryly.

"Yeah. Sure...you're right." Nicole tried to say this without letting her emotions show.

"Okay," he replied in a huff, showing his irritation.

     He soon left and Nicole again tried to swallow her emotions, her tears. It was all in vain for the dam burst and she quietly sobbed. Once more, she cried herself back to sleep, exhausted. Dreams haunted her rest, fleeting images of her and the attacker.

.  .  .  .  .

     A park. A smiling woman, sitting on a bench. Herself: chasing geese while laughter filled her soul. The woman calling out not to go too far. Herself: barely hearing. A man behind a tree, watching her. Him: coming closer and herself running for the safety of the woman's arms. Herself: running and grasping a stick so she could swing it at the man. Him: catching it with his left hand. She made him bleed. Him: holding his hand in agony. She ran.

.  .  .  .  .

     A loud, hard series of knocks on the door awakened her. Only her friend Ryan knocked like that. She quickly ran her fingers through her layered hair and chuckled at her pajamas: reindeer pants and an old t-shirt. 

"Hey!" Ryan's smile spread across his lightly freckled face after she opened the door.

"Hi," Nicole responded happily. She casually took note of what he was wearing: blue plaid, jeans, a grey sweatshirt around his waist, and sneakers.

"What's up?" He asked, stepping in the door.

"Nothing much, I haven't even eaten yet."

"Me neither," he grinned. "I'll help you make something."

     After breakfast, they migrated into the living room to play Monopoly as they watched a show. Ryan went home for lunch. "Perfect timing," she thought as her father stumbled through the door. He slumped on the couch and snored. Loudly. "This is the best Saturday ever," her thoughts somewhat sarcastic. Nicole did not feel like eating a big lunch; instead, she cut up cucumbers and cheese. Clutching her favourite book, she curled up on her bed and read until dinner. Her father woke and dinner was eaten in silence. When their plates were empty, he spoke.

"We're moving to Asheville in three weeks."

Nicole choked on her water. "What? How could he do this to me?" She knew better than to say anything aloud. 

With a probing gaze, her father looked up. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, anything. 

"Oh. Um... why?" Her voice was laced with confusion.

"I feel it's time." Her father pushed his chair back and stood. This was a sign that the conversation was at its end. "I'm going to bed."

Nicole would not give up easily. "We only moved her a little while ago," she stated matter-of-factly.

"I don't care!" The shout echoed on the small apartment's walls and rang in her ears.

"I guess the alcohol changes his moods more than I thought," She mused. "I'll ask him tomorrow if we really are moving, just to be sure that his drunkenness is influencing him."

     Now that her father was out of the kitchen, she slowly cleared the table. Quietly, she tiptoed down the short hallway to make sure he was sleeping. He was. Back in the kitchen, she started to sing softly. Never could she discover why she sang the same song after she experienced her nightmares. "Maybe Father sang it to me when I was little." The thought vanished almost as soon as it entered her mind. "How could I ever forgotten? He hates singing." She lowered her voice as she continued, even more softly than before. 

Your baby blues, so full of wonder

Your tiny face, your contagious smile

As I watch, you start to grow up

All I can do is hold you tight

Knowing clouds will rage and

Storms will race in

But you will be safe in my arms

Rains will pour down

Waves will crash all around

But you will be safe in my arms

Yes, you will be sa-

     She almost dropped the plate that she was drying at the startling knock. She hoped it did not wake her father. "What?" she hissed as she opened the door.

"Why are ya whispering?" 

"Ryan! Be quiet!"

"Gosh.  was talking like a normal person," He spoke, now in a whispery voice like Nicole. 

"Look, I'm not trying to offend you," Nicole paused at the "sure" look on Ryan's face. "Really. It's just...my father..."

"Oh." Ryan knew all about her father, his drinking, his temper, et cetera.

"I hate to ask, but..." Nicole did could not mutter the words she hated to have said to her.

"Ryan saved her the trouble. With a knowing, but sad smile he told her "Yeah. Well, I gotta get going anyway. See ya, Nicky." His voice was a tad awkward, but the use of her nickname showed her that there were no hard feelings. 

She stood on tiptoes and hugged him. She hoped it showed her appreciation. "See ya on Monday."

"Until then," Ryan turned and left.

"Goodbye, Ryan," Nicole whispered.

     With him gone, she went to the kitchen to finish the drying. There was no way she would begin singing again; she did not want to be surprised again, whether that be her father or another friend. "Shoot. I forgot to tell him about me possibly moving. I guess I'll share that on Monday." 

     Later that night, right before bed, Nicole stared at a half burned picture of a woman. She gasped. How could she not have noticed sooner? This was the woman from her dream? Was she just dreaming about her because she stared at the picture every night and it entered into her dream? Or was the woman real in the dream? Had she seen her before in real life? 

     This realization tired her, so she crawled under her covers and tried to sleep. For a while, She could not. Only when she accepted the fact that she would have more nightmares did sleep cradle her in its merciless arms.

.  .  .  .  .

     Nicole rose at 5:30am. Sleep was even more apathetic than she thought. Over breakfast, she thought of the new addition in her dream or nightmare really. The masked man called her name after she cut him with the stick. The woman also called her name when she was running away from the man. Nicole had tripped in the dream and had cut her right knee.

"I forgot my water," her father interrupted her thoughts. "Don't know how I could have. After all, I've been doing Sunday morning runs since I was in college." 

"I'll get it," Nicole jumped up, filled the bottle, and handed it to her father. "Here."

"Thanks," He turned, then paused. "Hey, I uh... thought that we could see that movie you wanted to share after I get back. Maybe we could go eat lunch a the lake too."

"I'd love to!" Nicole replied enthusiastically.

"It's a date." Her father smiled and kissed her forehead. "My little girl. Only mine. Forever mine alone." He whispered these words as he left.

"Okay then..." Nicole felt an odd feeling by these words, but she let her excitement take over and she laughed. "We are finally gonna do it!" Her father tried to be a good one when he wasn't drunk or sleeping all day. Yes; he had his bad side, like his temper, but she still loved him.

     Nicole finished eating, did the little dishes that were left from her father and her separate breakfasts, and went to take a shower. While shaving, she noticed a scar on her right knee and shivered. "My right knee!" She gulped. "The knee I cut in the dream..." 

"Stop. It's just a dream," she repeated again and again to herself. "If I'm not dreaming about reality, than why does it feel so real?"

.  .  .  .  .

     The movie was not as interesting as she anticipated, so they stopped it to play a few games. The picnic lunch was cancelled because the clouds decided to favour the dry land with torrents of rain. Throughout the "date" with her father, she constantly thought about dreams versus reality and what they had to do with each other. 

"I better get some sleep. Last week of school's tomorrow..." she found herself saying.

"All right. This was fun. Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"I'd like that," she smiled. "Well, I think I would like it. I don't know..."

     They got up from the floor and cleared the second game of Parcheesi that had just ended. Before the chance waved her by, she grabbed it. 

"So, ummm... We aren't actually moving, right? Like you were joking or something?" Nicole felt a little nervous.

"Joking or something?" Her dad emphasized the last words. "We're moving. End of discussion."

"Okay." Nicole's tears made her choke out the "goodnight" she gave to her father. He left her, without a sound.

      In her room, she lay on her bed. just when she was starting to get used to this place, fit in, and find friends they had to move. She did not know this, but the move would take a huge toll on her. She would be affected in ways that were only dreamt of.

But dreams can be reality...can't they?

.  .  .  .  .

Hope you liked it:) I will continue the story in a later post.

*OMADG