Bittersweet Hallucinations


It was dark in the asylum. Nathan liked that, it was easiest to think in the dark; to remember; to dream. He closed his eyes, blotting out the damp cell, the beige white walls, and the cemented ground. He couldn’t tell how much of what ran through his head was dreams; so full and vibrant they almost overcame him; and memories so faint they flickered like a candle in a strong breeze. Sometimes he dreamt of when he was a child, young and foolish; sometimes he dreamt of when he was a young man, working at his father’s diner. But mostly he dreamt of her. He pulled his hands over his head curled in a ball and thought of his first love, his only love: Natalie.
The day he met her it was sunny, he remembered because of the way the sun shone off her already golden locks, radiating light. And that’s what he remembered her as, the light. To him she was summer, she was champagne, she was laughter, she was the sea breeze, she was vanilla ice cream, she was sunshine. He remembered she tasted like strawberries and cream when he kissed her. She was funny too, witty and excited and happy and so full of life. When she slept, her hair spread over her pillow like thin wisps of gold, sparkling on those plain blue sheets. Her eyes were of the deepest green; he often stroked her blonde curls and stared into those emerald shining pupils and told her she must be magic, for only witches had curly blonde hair and green eyes, or so said the folklores he had read. She laughed her laugh, a laugh that sounded like waterfalls and wind chimes and had told him that she was just plain ordinary; but she wasn’t, she was magical, and she loved her with all his heart; and for that he was scared, scared that he loved someone so much that not being with them physically hurt, that he needed someone and felt his heart was full of so much love it would break his chest. He was afraid of love and commitment and so he did something stupid: her broke her heart. He screamed at her and accused her of not loving him and left before he could be left himself.
He cut the cord and tried to take his heart back, for fear that she would break it. He left her, and he wanted to leave things at that, with his heart his own and her tears falling down her cheeks. He broke their love and left it lying on the ground, for in the face of the unknown, humans would rather walk away than jump into it hand-in-hand.
And so he went on with his life, working and occasionally dating. But every so often he caught sight of long golden curls and for a second his heart would stop; but then the girl would turn around and his heart would sink as he realised it wasn’t her. No one could ever be her.
He tried to leave her behind, but somehow the world threw them back together, and they collided into each others arms; for she arrived at his door, shaking and sobbing, although then she wouldn’t tell him why, and so he kissed away her pain and tried to fix her, to make her better, and she tasted of strawberries and salty tears and new beginnings. And he lay and watched her sleep that night, her chest heaving with every breath, a small smile across her lips. But then the cold light of day came and she told him the truth, why she had arrived at his door, sobbing her heart out.
He had never thought of cancer affecting him, affecting her in such a way, she was so strong but it took her so fast. He stayed with her as by then he had realised that this may be a huge burden to bear, but nothing, nothing was bigger than love. She started chemo, and for a while she seemed better: she slowly grew her hair back, she danced with him in her highest heels, giggling all the while. They lay together, and she turned to him and whispered that she loved him, and he loved her too; for as hard as he had tried to take his heart back, she had well and truly stolen it. But then things went wrong, and she grew weaker and weaker until she slowly faded away.
He never liked to think of her in those later days: she was so frail and not herself that it hurt him. He stayed by her side and begged her to get better, told her he’d do anything for her, if she’d just hold on. She kissed him, strawberries and cream and asked him “We both matter, don’t we?” and he nodded as the tears ran down his face. “You matter to me more than anything in this world” he answered simply. She nodded silently, closing her eyes, her pale eyelashes fluttering quietly, and her lemon scent filling his nostrils. “then I’ll see you in the next,” she whispered, so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. She drew one final, painful breath and then, just like that, she was gone, and it was as if the sunlight had died on those hospital sheets.
The story from then on was a simple one. He lost the love of life, and in time he lost himself. He couldn’t bear the world and yet he couldn’t bare to leave it. He simply lingered there, not living, just existing.
He shifted his position now, his memories gone, cast to the wind. He wished for her, and almost immediately, he felt her soft hands running through his hair, and he knew she was there. He daren’t have opened his eyes for fear that just as fast as she’d arrived she’d be gone. “I love you.” Her voice rang in his ears and vibrated through his body. He was hit by the strong scent of lemon and her golden locks tickled his face as she leaned over him. He felt for her lips and found hers, she kissed him softly, and the taste of stawberries sent him into a heavenly, almost drug like state. “Come with me please,” she whispered into his neck, and he felt a tug on his arm as she lead him away, and soon they were enveloped in the welcoming darkness.
Back in the asylum, the Doctor flashed the light into Nathan’s eyes, the pupils stared back at him, still and un-recognising. “I’m sorry, Nurse, but we’re too late,” he said to his co-worker who was lingering outside in the corridor, pulling himself up from his knees and putting his torch in his pocket, turning away. He shook his head sadly and listened as his steps clanged on the hard metal floor. He stopped as he reached the doorway and took one look round, at where Nathan’s still body lay. “He’s gone,” the Doctor announced, slamming the door with a deafening clang.
By Emily