Hello

Nothing's wrong. Nothing's wrong. Nothing's wrong....1

Playground school bell rings again. The kids come streaming through the doorway of the class. I put on my plastic smile and turn towards them. I wait patiently as they file in, unusually quiet. I begin to realize something's wrong as they sit down in their desks and each one tilts their face up to look at me. 2

One at a time.3

Their faces are eyeless, mouths sewn shut. They smile up at me eerily and sit silently. I realize they are waiting for me to start my lesson. I point with extended, clawed fingers at the board. "Has no one told you she's not breathing?"4

The children tilt their heads curiously. I stay still as can be as one stands slowly. He has disgustingly long limbs and his smile is somewhat unsettling. Suddenly, before I can stop him, he inserts two fingers between his lips and begins to pull them apart. The stitches holding them together pulls at his skin and eventually becomes tight enough to rip it. The blood pours in a steady trickle down his face and he reaches out his tongue, lapping it up happily. He stares at me without eyes and in an icy voice whispers, "Hello. I'm in your mind giving you someone to talk you." In unison the children of the class stand and say,
"Hello."5

The scream refuses to escape my lips until I jerk up in bed. I am soaked in sweat and suddenly the comfy darkness of my room is terrifying. I flick on the lamp by my bedside. This was the tenth time in two weeks I've had to turn my light on in the middle of the night. 6

The decision to move out of my close friend's house and into my own apartment seemed like a good one until I started having the dreams. All because of....I try to block the memories from my mind for fear that the nightmares would return again. With much difficulty I roll over and let the darkness take over my mind. 7

* * * * *8

The humid air causes the back of my thighs to stick uncomfortably to the leather couch beneath me. "Last night I had another nightmare."9

"And was it the reoccuring one, with the children at school?" Susanne, my therapist, crosses her legs and flips over the page of her notebook.10

"Yes, except this time he said, 'Hello. I am the lie. Living for you so you can hide.'"11

"It seems to me you are really having difficulty dealing with Marie's death. You were very close with your sister, weren't you?"12

"Y-yes. I was." I mumble. These sessions lately seemed to be nothing more than Susanne pointing out the obvious and me muttering agreements. 13

"Perhaps," she starts, "it is time to talk to you mother."14

I open my mouth to protest but she cuts me off.15

"I know it will be hard. But this may be the only way to stop the nightmares from returning. You must admit they are becoming much more than a simple irritation. When they begin to interfere with your life, and you find yourself working your schedule around them, it becomes too much. You must start talking to your mother again."16

I nod. I know that if I try to speak all that will come out are sobs. I thank Susanne and leave the building as quickly as possible. Making my way to my car I almost wish I was back at school. Perhaps teaching again would be a pleasant distraction from a life that was anything but. 17

I repeatedly look up at the sky as I drive. Rain clouds come to play again. The sky always seems gloomy and grey these days. I make my way towards the roads that I haven't driven in months. I can hardly believe what I am about to do. "None of this is happening," I say out loud to myself. If I smile and don't believe, soon I know I'll wake from this dream.18

I turn onto the all-to-familiar street and pull into my mother's driveway. We lost my father a few years ago, yet she refuses to move away from the house we had always lived in. That was the difference between my mother and I. She coped by living within her memories. I avoided them at all cost.19

I take my time moving up the walk-way. Everything was the same as it was four months ago, the last time I talked to her. I take a deep breath as I reach the front door and rap on it timidly. 20

For a while there is no answer. 'Maybe she didn't here me,' I think. I am relieved and frightened at the same time. Then, the door swings open quickly, and my mother's brown eyes look into mine. A wide smile breaks out onto her face. "Karen!' she exclaims. She pulls me into a tight hug. I awkwardly place my arms around her. "I've missed you so much." I can hear the tears in her voice.21

She invites me in and we sit down in the living room. She smiles at me adoringly. "It's been so long. What brings you here now?"22

"I...wanted to talk to you....about Marie."23

Her smile fades slowly. "Oh, honey." She reaches out to touch my arm. I pull away quickly and she looks hurt, almost shocked.24

"I just wanted to apologize...for what I did to her." I'm afraid to look up, afraid to meet a pair of accusing eyes. I face my fear and raise my head. What meets me is not a look of accusation but one of anger.25

"How many times do I have to tell you?" she snaps. "What happened to Marie is NOT your fault."26

"But if we hadn't had that fight before she drove home, if she wasn't so angry when she left she might've...."27

My mother touches my shoulder, and this time I allow her hand to remain there. "I have told you once, and I will always tell you. Marie made her own decisions, and if it was her time to go there was nothing you could do to stop it. You have done NOTHING wrong. The only error you have made is blocking out the memories of your sister. You need to embrace them, not shut them out."28

"Don't try to fix me!" I scream. The tears are now pouring from my eyes and the shouts that try to leave my mouth become sobs.29

"Don't cry." She pulls me into another hug. "Everything will be alright."30

"I'm not broken!" I cry into her shoulder. 31

"I know sweetie, I know."32

We stay in this soon-to-be memory before I say my good-byes with a promise to visit again soon. Though I have used this line before without much meaning, this time I know it is anything buy a hollow statement. 33

I use the drive home to sink into the memories of my sister. The days at the cottage, drawing pictures in the sand before letting the waves wash them away. Running through the forests behind our house hand in hand, so the monsters could not come and take us away. 'The monsters have taken you away from me, Marie.' I think. Suddenly, I know I'm not sleeping. It is then that I must pull over and let the tears take over. 34

When I finally make it home I am ready to collapse. I drop my coat on the floor and crawl into bed in my jeans. I barely have time to curl up into the fetal position before I am enveloped in sleep.35

The children march into the class again and my plastic smile refuses to become undone. As they each take their turn to look up at me I realize that I am not as frightened in this particular nightmare as I was in the other's. Someone in the corner stands. Turning my head, I do not see the long-limbed boy, but Marie. She stands there in silence, smiling up at me. She looks exactly as she had before the accident. Beautiful. A sense of deep peace consumes me and I find my smile is no longer forced. She smirks and opens her mouth. 36

"Hello. I'm still here. All that's left of yesterday."