For the first time since I got my diagnosis, I stuff my face without fear of what will happen afterward. Then, I move into the adjoining bathroom and strip down, eyeing the copper tub full of steaming water. Fresh flower petals float atop the water, the shades of pink, yellow, and blue bringing a smile to my face.
Best. Dream. Ever.
The water is hot against my skin, almost bordering on too hot—but I couldn’t be more thrilled. See, in addition to losing my love for food, I’ve also become a habitual cold shower taker. When your body runs at a whopping hundred and four degrees on average, extra heat just doesn’t sound appealing.
The fragrant water fills my lungs, and I breathe deeply, relaxing my muscles with every deep breath I take. Slipping down further into the water, I take one last deep breath then sink all the way down.
My surroundings shift.
Gone is the floral scent, the hot water. Opening my eyes, I try to scream but slap a hand over my mouth to prevent myself from sucking in water. The depths are inconceivable with nothing but darkness below me.
The light above is too far for me to reach out and touch, but I kick my feet anyway, struggling to get to the surface. A hand grips my ankle, and I kick, frantically making my mad dash to the surface as the fingers tighten on me.
Looking down, I meet the sad eyes of the same man I saw in the restaurant. He stares up at me, and I notice a huge scar running along the right side of his face. Suddenly, breathing is of little necessity—the burning in my lungs ceasing completely as the water around us stills and the stranger becomes my full focus.
Something about him— He releases me and kicks his feet, putting him face to face with me. I reach out, the water slowing my movements, and gently graze a finger over the side of his face. His eyes flutter closed, and he leans into my touch as though it’s been forever since he was touched.Who are you?I long to ask him. But while I may not need to breathe, talking underwater is out of the question.
His eyes widen and he reaches out, shoving me backward as he’s ripped away, disappearing into the darkness.
I come up from the water, gasping for breath as it sloshes around me, sending flower petals and waves of liquid onto the pristine floor.What in the actual nightmare was that?
“Wasn’t real, Ember.” But my self-reassurance does little to steady my thundering heart. His pain, I’d seen it reflected in his golden eyes. So much agony, so much fear, it felt soreal. All of this feels real. This place, the food, this freaking bathwater. I mean, I’m imaginative—I have to be with my job—but this is next-level.
Pulling my knees up to my chest, I wrap both arms around them and rest my cheek on top. “None of this is real,” I whisper. “This place, that man. All products of an exhausted, dying mind.”
Right?