I go to bed as I always do. No specific time, no specific reason other than necessity. I'm in the corner of my 2-person bedroom. My roommate, who fell asleep long ago, peacefully rolls over to face the wall. I drift off to sleep.
Suddenly, I'm awake. Fear and anguish gripping my heart. The world that I left so friendly just a few hours before has turned dark and cold and I am alone. It doesn't matter that Jenee is still on the bed across the room from me. That side of the room is another world: I am alone. And I am frightened. Fears and realities blend into one, as I try to get a grip of where I am, what's happening, why I'm so upset.
I climb out of bed, and stumble into the front room. The metallic clack of the blinds against the walls as strong gusts of wind blow them out from the window over and over and over again makes the night seem all that more bleak. I walk over, and trying to gain some control over my surroundings and myself, I pull the window shut. The wind still howls outside, but I'm protected from its furious cold blows.
As I return to my room, one window remains open, right above Jenee's bed, and I can do nothing about it. It seems to mock my misery, my helplessness, my confusion. I climb under the covers, willing myself to fall asleep and escape.
I do but once again, I wake with a start. This time my feelings are even more acute, culminating to a point of fear and hurt and pain that makes me want to cry out. I let out a whimper of a choked-back sob, and look at my cell-phone to find out the time. 6am. In Virginia it's 8. I hold down the '6', and listen to the rings. Riiiiiiiiing. . . Riiiiiiiiing . . . 4 more, and then the voicemail. For the next couple hours, this pattern continues: me waking every hour, pushing the 6, and waiting. Eventually, I drift off...until a loud tune beside my ear snaps me out of my half-dozing state.
It's my fiance. The person I've been trying to reach all night. His voice fills me with hope, though does not completely extinguish my despair and anguish. He apologizes for missing my calls... he wasn't awake (despite the time-difference). I begin to talk with him, and the feelings of hopelessness, despair, fear, anguish...they all begin to fade. His attempt to understand, his words of sympathy, and just the familiarity of his voice and "love you"s calms me, and I have almost returned to reality.
The window is now closed. I don't remember Jenee doing that in the middle of the night. Grateful, I remember that it is my fiance that has pulled me from the dream-like world of horror that has its roots in reality, but is not itself real. And when the windows to my past open again, I'll remember that '6', and that help is always on the way; I just need to wait, close my eyes, and wait for the phone to ring.
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