Chapter 5: My Reality is Fading... And Oh God, So Am I
(Morticia's P.O.V.)
I scream and back way from the mirror. No, no this cannot be happening. Not him, please, not him.
I try to scream for Gomez but only blood comes out.
So much blood.
Dr. Winthrop catches me and won't release me. He strokes my hair and whispers in my ear, and I think I am going to be physically ill.
I am throwing up blood all over the floor, and struggling but this time, I cannot get away.
I can barely move, I keep trying to scream but I cannot hear even a peep. All I can feel and see is blood.
"Shh, shh, shh..." Dr. Winthrop moves the hair out of my face and kisses my neck, softly, tenderly, and it makes me sick. "Come on, black beauty, don't be like that with me, now. You don't want me to get away from you, do you? Soon, we'll finish what I started..."
I shake my head and more blood escapes, but he wipes it up and holds the knife to my throat.
I am crying, closing my mouth, not wanting anymore blood to come up. The gash on my collar bone hurts so much, and it, too is gushing blood.
Just then, I hear Gomez knock at the door.
"Tish?"
I wonder if he heard me scream. I am desperately hoping he did.
I try to scream again, and this time, it works.
Dr. Winthrop presses the knife harder, it's cold blade sending a shiver through my entire body.
I cry out.
"Tish?" Gomez's voice sounds worried. "Tish, open the door!"
I can't, Dr. Winthrop's hold on me is too tight.
I scream again, tears streaming down my face.
He bangs on the door. "Morticia!" He struggles with the knob and bursts in.
At that exact moment, not a millisecond later, I am released. I fall to the floor, using my hands as a shield so as to not hit my face.
I am freezing, shaking and the towel is barely keeping me covered.
"Oh, Tish..." Gomez puts his robe around me, and takes the towel. He cradles me in his arms, holding me.
I burry my head in his neck, in tears. "Gomez... Gomez... He was here."
"Shh, cara mia. It's alright, now, my darling. I'm here, I won't let anything happen to you." He rubs my back, and pushes the hair out of my face.
I cannot stop shaking. "He was here." Is all I can say.
"Who, my darling? Who was here?"
"Dr. Winthrop!" I cry. "He was here. And he..." I look at my collar bone. And the gash... is still there.
(Gomez's P.O.V.)
I am terrified for my only. I notice the gash and immediately lift her up. I set her down on the sink.
"Morticia, your collar..." I touch it, and she winces in pain.
"Gomez, please... please say you believe me."
I nod, what more can I do? "Yes, of course I do. But, Tish..." I grab rubbing alcohol and bandages out of the medicine cabinet. "Oh, my poor darling."
"I'm sorry, Gomez." She cries, her head in her hand. "I'm so sorry."
"No, querida, none of this is your fault." I kiss her pale lips.
She is shivering, and I have to control myself, although I am trembling on the inside.
"Now, darling... this may sting a bit." I warn her.
"Well, then it shouldn't be too bad. But, Gomez, I think we might need to stitch this up. And what will we say if I go to a hospital? How... how will we explain this?"
"I don't know, Tish..." I embrace her, and she cries into my shoulder. "I don't know."
We decide to take her out of the bathroom and I lie her on the bed. Lurch comes upstairs and after I dress her wound, he teaches me how to stitch it up. I wanted to do this for her, I couldn't bear to leave her. I should have never left her.
Lurch leaves and I am about to begin stitching up her gash.
"Gomez... thank you." She manages to say.
I fluff her pillow. "Darling, you are very brave, and very strong. Now, I want you to relax and sit still for me, cara mia."
"Yes, darling." She replies and sits up, sore.
I smile sympathetically at her and begin to stitch up the gash. It pains me to watch her wince like that. I can't do a thing except whisper some words of endearment and plant a kiss on her lips when I can.
Soon, when I get to a very tender spot, I pause. "Alright, querida. Are you ready?"
"Yes, mon diable." She responds.
I smile at the nickname, my devil. I have always adored that one. I love whenever she uses my before bestowing upon me one of those many French endearments. I am hers, I will always be hers, forever. I belong to only Morticia, and by God does a fire ignite inside of me when I think of that.
"Please make this painful, darling. It will be better at your hands." Morticia continues.
I nod and kiss her shoulder. "Of course, my dearest. I would do anything for you. All I ask is that you remain still."
My darling, strong Tish takes a deep breath. "Alright, mon amour."
My black angel braces herself, and I continue to stitch up her wound.
She remains perfectly still, barely even breathing.
After about fifteen minutes, I finish the dauting task.
"Comfortable, cara mia?" I ask, adjusting her pillows.
Morticia nods. "Qui, mon cher." She replies.
"Tish, I am sorry but you cannot move your collar too much. I don't want your stitches to come undone."
"Darling..." She brings a cold, pale, delicate hand to my cheek. "I want to talk."
I crawl into the bed next to her, tightly holding her in my arms. "Yes, I think that would be best."
She is showing as little raw emotion as possible, and I know it is because she is truly afraid.
"Gomez... you haven't left my side since we talked about the dreams. I love you, I love you more than I love or will ever love anyone else. But, I'm worried about you."
Morticia is always thinking of others... of me, even at a time like this.
I remember when Morticia was pregnant with Pugsley. The pregnancy was terribly rough. Our boy was a strong one, but I digress.
Morticia was in severe pain, and had been throwing up all morning. Not to mention, the weather was pure hell. We were in the middle of a drought.
Máma called and was having trouble hanging up a picture frame. I offered to come, but Máma also had wanted to talk to Morticia.
Morticia wanted to go and help her mother, even though she was feeling dreadful.
I had refused, worried for her health.
But all she had to do was look at me with those black eyes. Her voice sounded so wounded and sad when she said my name.
I quite literally fell to my knees and ten minutes later, we were driving to my mother-in-law's.
So yes, Morticia is constantly thinking of others. And it is one of the many things I worship that woman for.
"Tish..." I sigh. "You are right, and I'm sorry. I worry about you. Look what happened the one time I wasn't around, even after I made an effort to be there at every moment."
"Exactly." She takes my hands. "Gomez, you are doing everything you can. But it proves that something could happen to me, whether or not you are around."
"Tish-"
She interjects. "And I promise that I am a fighter, and I won't let anything get away with harming me or the children... let alone get away with harming you."
"I'll destroy whatever did this to you." I have a hot, angry fire in my eyes. Who dared mark up my cara mia?
"I know you want to, Gomez. But I don't think you quite understand."
"What don't I understand?" I ask, concern thickening my accent.
"I-"
It's happening again.
I am inside of the bathroom and have just finished showering. I am wrapped in my black towel with my initials embroidered on it.
My darling Gomez had gotten my initials engraved in all of the black towels as one of my nineteenth birthday present.
I am abo to clip my hair up, but I never get the chance.
I see him. I see Dr. Winthrop in the mirror, the predatory whispers and caresses, and the slit in my collar bone, and I feel the sharp blade being pressed to my throat. I try to scream but only blood ever comes up, and I don't think anyone can hear me.
I am struggling, but am becoming mostly immobile. This goes on for quite some time, and my throat burns.
Gomez is knocking on the door, and I pray he heard me make any kind of noise.
The minute mon amour enters, Dr. Winthrop lets me go and winded, I crash to the ground.
(Morticia's P.O.V.)
It was much too soon for me to relive that memory. I feel as though I am going to be sick again, and I grab Gomez's arm, holding back the waves of nausea. When the nausea subsides, Gomez speaks.
"I'll kill the bastard!" He yells.
"Darling, I don't even know if that was real. I can barely separate reality from unreality at this point."
He embraces me, his fingers in my hair as he kisses my forehead. "Oh, Tish... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
I must remain calm. "I see things in mirrors." I begin, stroking his strong arm. Apparitions, delusions, I don't know. But I do know I have been seeing myself with injuries, severe, life-threatening injuries. Sometimes I am in a hospital gown, and there's so much blood. Dr. Winthrop was behind me that day I flew off my stool. Your shoe... for a brief moment looked just like his. My reflection talks to me and so do the hallucinations. And now, this..."
He shakes his head, kissing mine again.
"It's as though chaos and pain had a child, and all that child ever wore was red." We say, in unison.
There is a long pause, and all I can do is stare up into his eyes. All he can do is stare into mine.
"Gomez..." A crystal tear falls down my cheek, but it is the only one that I will allow to fall.
"Morticia, I am so sorry, my darling." He looks like his world has shattered.
"I saw him, Gomez. I saw Dr. Winthrop in the mirror. And now, it seems as though you did, as well." I am in shock. It's as if I have just seen a Jehovah's Witness convert somebody.
"But... how?" Gomez asks. "I thought you said they fired that monster."
"No, darling, I said I fired him. There's one thing that happened after that memory you saw. Dr. Winthrop chased me up the stairs and I recited a spell. He didn't know what I was doing, it was in Latin. Next thing you know, Dr. Winthrop was on fire. I ran out and no one ever heard from that evil man again. I don't know if I killed him, or if he is dead at all. But I hoped I had destroyed him." I shake my head, leaning on Gomez, propping my neck up. "It appears I was wrong."
"We will get through this, cara mia. I promise you, come heaven or highwater, we will get through this." His words are beautiful and fill me with hope, but these next moments crush that hope like a bug.
"Hello, black beauty." I hear. I look up, and Dr. Winthrop has a tight grip on me.
I scream, but he puts a rough, dry hand around my mouth.
"Shh, Morticia, I only want to love you." He kisses me.
"No!" I try to yell, I bite his hand, and oh, how it bleeds.
"Bitch!" He yells. "You think you're going to set fire to me that easily?"
"No, I'm going to finish you off!" I yell and slip out of his grip. I run to the door and try to open it, but it is locked shut.
Dr. Winthrop rises out of bed and inches closer, closer, closer. He pins me against the door and forces my arms above my head.
"Go away!" I yell.
"Never again." He gives a feral growl and unties Gomez's robe that was tightly wrapped around me.
"Cinis pluat, ignis adurat. Anima glacie voluit nocer-." I try to yell; my ears are ringing.
"Not this time, black beauty." He growls, puts a hand over my mouth briefly and tears off his lab coat. He bites my neck, and gropes me.
I fight, I do. But I can barely move. I keep half reciting the spell but he kisses me, and I cannot pull away.
My world spins out of control and Dr. Winthrop pulls that blue syringe out of his pocket, filled with blue liquid... the blue liquid from those awful dreams.
"Cinis pluat-" Before I can finish, he jabs the needle into my neck.
I look flushed, I feel sick, so sick. My arms go limp, my entire body does. And then I black out.
