Esme
The first thing I’m aware of is a constellation of stars.
They blaze across my eyelids, illuminating the murky darkness that’s enshrouded me.
The second thing I’m aware of is the feeling of emptiness.
Not a raw, biting emotional emptiness, but a physical ache that makes me want to reach for something.
I’m missing something.
Or I’m not remembering something, because the more aware I become of new state of consciousness, the more I realize that something is not right.
Where am I?
Who’s with me?
What am I missing?
The questions keep tearing around in my head and I can’t seem to clear the fog long enough to answer them.
But I can see the answers on the periphery, right behind the confusion.
I hear a strange beeping sound. I feel something connected to my arm. An IV drip? But I can’t be sure. I could just be hallucinating.
After all… I’m at home in my bed, aren’t I?
And at any moment, Cesar’s going to walk through my door and pull me back to reality.
I try opening my eyes but they’re heavy and I don’t know why but a vague feeling of fear grips me.
Cesar…
Cesar?
There’s another name floating around in the ether, just out of my reach. I want to say it, its form etched on my lips, but for some reason I can’t quite grab at it. It feels too far away.
I shouldn’t worry so much. I’m just in bed at home like always. Sleeping in on a lazy Sunday, perhaps.
Maybe Tamara visited this weekend? That would make sense. She always manages to find liquor when she comes to stay with us. Sometimes, she convinces me to indulge with her.
I only do it when Papa is away.
But still… I don’t want to be caught. And Papa could come home at any minute.
I try and say Tamara’s name but I’m distracted by the sound of footsteps, the hush of voices carrying through to me as though from a distance. Perhaps from another room?
The maids never enter my bedroom when I’m in here. Certainly never when I’m sleeping.
But am I sleeping? This position feels a little foreign. And forced.
I sleep on my side with a pillow between my arms. So why am I on my back?
Then I hear a cry. A sharp wail that sends an electric bolt of realization straight through me, shocking me back to reality.
I am not a child anymore.
My home was destroyed months ago.