Chapter One: Memories
The second hand ticked by slowly. Across the hall, a man watched through the doorway as time passed. Time. It seemed so false. A make believe idea created for the mere purpose of making people late. Late to birthday parties; late to weddings. Late to other activities almost as artificial as time. On this evening however, the dark haired man wasn't late for such an unreal occasion. It was a once in a lifetime event. He hoped.
His first instinct that reality had left him with his thoughts was that he could now hear the second hand of the clock moving. Each tick sharpened his sense of hearing. It seemed louder. And louder still. The noise soon became a nuisance as his thoughts came together.
How had it happened? What started it all? His little girl. How was it possible that she had been harmed? He had tried so hard to protect her. Almost too much. Maybe it was bound to happen after she lived such a sheltered life. Was it meant to be?
"Mr. Corman?" asked a small delicate woman. The man looked up and faced the rosy cheeked nurse. Her brunette curls licked her red lipstick from her lips. Her green eyes pierced the man's soul, and he turned away, feeling guilt about his feelings. He put his head down revealing the deep black roots of his scalp, and slowly nodded.
"Mr. Corman, your daughter..." the nurse paused, her lovely, soothing voice cracking. The man kept his face downcast, fearing the news. The nurse cleared her throat softly and continued, "Your daughter has suffered a severe blow to the head. Her-" the nurse paused again as she noticed the man grunting and crying quietly. "Mr. Corman, I know it's hard, but you need to focus now on what you want to do with the time you have left."
Time. The word echoed in his mind. Time would cease to exist as he knew it. It was the manmade object that distanced him from his daughter. The manmade thing that would number her last days, and end her life forever. Luke Corman hated time.
The nurse continued, wringing her hands and pulling on her white dress. "Now, Mr. Corman your daughter can't feel much. She's in no pain. You should talk to her, because if you talk to her..." her voice trailed off. Luke struggled to catch up, but his mind wouldn't let him. Luke looked away again and closed his dark black eyes. Leaning back in the chair, Luke felt at home. Calm. Almost... asleep.
...
Luke sprang up from the bed, drenched in sweat. Sitting up, he clicked on the lamp on the nightstand. Leaning against the wooden headboard, Luke, breathing deeply and quickly, lifted his hands, covering his eyes with his scratchy, clammy palms.
Removing the sheets from his waist, Luke placed his feet on the ground with a soft thud. Making his way across the cold tile floor of his bedroom with more thudding, Luke headed for the bathroom. Once inside, Luke ran the cool water of the sink, opened the mirrored medicine cabinet, and skimmed the shelves with his eyes for aspirin. After reaching and gripping a small bottle of Bayer, Luke shut the door of the cabinet.
Luke swallowed two tablets, and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the trickle of cool water flowing from the faucet. Its soothing drip. He breathed deeply, smelling the air. As he exhaled, Luke splashed a handful of water on his rough unshaved face. With his eyes closed, he grabbed a nearby hand towel and dried himself off.
The digital clock read 3:07. Luke knew he wouldn't be able to return to his sleep. The dreams were back. Maybe he would go see the doctor again. But surely not at three in the morning. Luke turned the knob, shutting off the water, and pulled down his boxers to prepare for a hot shower.
Adjusting the dials in the shower, Luke awaited the mirror's fogging on the closed toilet seat. Closing his eyes, Luke pictured images of his nightmare in small shots. The nurse. The uncomfortable seat. The clock.
When Luke felt the humidity hit his chin, he heard the shower calling him. Checking the mirror to justify the shower, Luke decided it was time. Time. The dream flashed back again. The clock. 3:07. Entering the shower, Luke shook his head to break the dream away. His focus now was to clean himself. To start over, and cleanse his mind along with his body. Luke sighed. A meeting with Dr. Yokham was in order.
...
"So, Mr. Corman, you awoke at what time?"
"When I looked at the clock, it was around three."
"And you say the dream was from... from your daughter's-"
"Her death, Doctor. I was in the hospital, and I saw the nurse again. She was telling me about my daughter," Luke repositioned his legs on the red leather couch.
"Do you think these dreams are resurfacing because of-"
"I don't know why they're happening, that's why I came to you!" Luke yelled.
"Calm down, Luke. You should just relax and everything-"
"I don't want to relax. Do I really have to lay here? If I get up are you going to scribble notes about how I don't want to sit here or-"
"You can get up if you want. Now Luke, I want you to listen," Dr. Yokham said, "It has been three years and seven months since your daughters death. I understand that it's hard to get over, I really understand. But you are only hurting yourself by keeping this up. I'm going to give you these pills, and I want you to be taking them nightly, ok?" Luke mumbled a few smart remarks, but was interrupted by the doctor, "I'm serious, Luke. I want these to be gone by next Friday."
Luke nodded, and took the paper after the doctor ripped it from a pad. Luke crinkled the paper and shoved it deep into his coat pocket. Dr. Yokham motioned for him to leave, and Luke turned, heading for the door with his head down.
Outside, Luke Corman made his way to his silver Audi TT, and headed to get his prescription filled.
...
The brass keys jingled as Luke unlocked the deadbolt of his front door. As he began unlocking the bottom lock, Luke's ears interpreted a creaking sound. Freezing his hand and the keys, Luke turned his head sharply to the right and suspiciously eyed surrounding trees. Spotting nothing, he turned around and faced a white picket fence belonging to his neighbor. Shrugging off the issue, Luke entered his house after opening the wooden door.
Luke entered the dining room, and clicked on the chandelier by flipping the switch on the wall. He set his keys, and pills on the table, and after hearing the creaking from outside again, he looked out through the many windows across the table. After heavily blinking his black eyes, Luke turned and headed up the stairs in the hallway. Quickly walking past his daughter's old bedroom, as if to avoid it completely, Luke stepped into his own room, and collapsed on the bed.
Luke sighed deeply, and closed his eyes. After a moment of silence, he realized he could never sleep without the pills. His dream was so vividly real. Almost as if he were reliving the experience at the hospital. As if his daughter had past away a second time. Not wanting to remember Luke shot his eyes open, and immediately returned downstairs to the dining room.
Tossing a few pills in his mouth, Luke closed his eyes, rubbed the back of his neck, and swallowed the two tablets. Luke closed the bottle, and headed back to the stairs. As he reached the bottom step, and looked up, Luke felt like the stairway seemed much taller than before. Dizzily Luke began climbing the mountain before him; each step sapping more and more energy from his tired legs.
When he finally reached the top step, Luke turned right, and slowly headed back to his room. At the beginning, this trip to his bed seemed no different from the other trips made for the past three years. Then Luke stopped. He stopped right in front of his daughter's door. He turned to the left. The door was open. For the first time in three years, it was open. With his eyes open wide, Luke stepped inside and noticed it. Among his daughter's belongings, there it was. The small paper would haunt his memory forever. He looked at it for a long while. And after almost a minute of silence, Luke began screaming.
The second hand ticked by slowly. Across the hall, a man watched through the doorway as time passed. Time. It seemed so false. A make believe idea created for the mere purpose of making people late. Late to birthday parties; late to weddings. Late to other activities almost as artificial as time. On this evening however, the dark haired man wasn't late for such an unreal occasion. It was a once in a lifetime event. He hoped.
His first instinct that reality had left him with his thoughts was that he could now hear the second hand of the clock moving. Each tick sharpened his sense of hearing. It seemed louder. And louder still. The noise soon became a nuisance as his thoughts came together.
How had it happened? What started it all? His little girl. How was it possible that she had been harmed? He had tried so hard to protect her. Almost too much. Maybe it was bound to happen after she lived such a sheltered life. Was it meant to be?
"Mr. Corman?" asked a small delicate woman. The man looked up and faced the rosy cheeked nurse. Her brunette curls licked her red lipstick from her lips. Her green eyes pierced the man's soul, and he turned away, feeling guilt about his feelings. He put his head down revealing the deep black roots of his scalp, and slowly nodded.
"Mr. Corman, your daughter..." the nurse paused, her lovely, soothing voice cracking. The man kept his face downcast, fearing the news. The nurse cleared her throat softly and continued, "Your daughter has suffered a severe blow to the head. Her-" the nurse paused again as she noticed the man grunting and crying quietly. "Mr. Corman, I know it's hard, but you need to focus now on what you want to do with the time you have left."
Time. The word echoed in his mind. Time would cease to exist as he knew it. It was the manmade object that distanced him from his daughter. The manmade thing that would number her last days, and end her life forever. Luke Corman hated time.
The nurse continued, wringing her hands and pulling on her white dress. "Now, Mr. Corman your daughter can't feel much. She's in no pain. You should talk to her, because if you talk to her..." her voice trailed off. Luke struggled to catch up, but his mind wouldn't let him. Luke looked away again and closed his dark black eyes. Leaning back in the chair, Luke felt at home. Calm. Almost... asleep.
...
Luke sprang up from the bed, drenched in sweat. Sitting up, he clicked on the lamp on the nightstand. Leaning against the wooden headboard, Luke, breathing deeply and quickly, lifted his hands, covering his eyes with his scratchy, clammy palms.
Removing the sheets from his waist, Luke placed his feet on the ground with a soft thud. Making his way across the cold tile floor of his bedroom with more thudding, Luke headed for the bathroom. Once inside, Luke ran the cool water of the sink, opened the mirrored medicine cabinet, and skimmed the shelves with his eyes for aspirin. After reaching and gripping a small bottle of Bayer, Luke shut the door of the cabinet.
Luke swallowed two tablets, and closed his eyes. He concentrated on the trickle of cool water flowing from the faucet. Its soothing drip. He breathed deeply, smelling the air. As he exhaled, Luke splashed a handful of water on his rough unshaved face. With his eyes closed, he grabbed a nearby hand towel and dried himself off.
The digital clock read 3:07. Luke knew he wouldn't be able to return to his sleep. The dreams were back. Maybe he would go see the doctor again. But surely not at three in the morning. Luke turned the knob, shutting off the water, and pulled down his boxers to prepare for a hot shower.
Adjusting the dials in the shower, Luke awaited the mirror's fogging on the closed toilet seat. Closing his eyes, Luke pictured images of his nightmare in small shots. The nurse. The uncomfortable seat. The clock.
When Luke felt the humidity hit his chin, he heard the shower calling him. Checking the mirror to justify the shower, Luke decided it was time. Time. The dream flashed back again. The clock. 3:07. Entering the shower, Luke shook his head to break the dream away. His focus now was to clean himself. To start over, and cleanse his mind along with his body. Luke sighed. A meeting with Dr. Yokham was in order.
...
"So, Mr. Corman, you awoke at what time?"
"When I looked at the clock, it was around three."
"And you say the dream was from... from your daughter's-"
"Her death, Doctor. I was in the hospital, and I saw the nurse again. She was telling me about my daughter," Luke repositioned his legs on the red leather couch.
"Do you think these dreams are resurfacing because of-"
"I don't know why they're happening, that's why I came to you!" Luke yelled.
"Calm down, Luke. You should just relax and everything-"
"I don't want to relax. Do I really have to lay here? If I get up are you going to scribble notes about how I don't want to sit here or-"
"You can get up if you want. Now Luke, I want you to listen," Dr. Yokham said, "It has been three years and seven months since your daughters death. I understand that it's hard to get over, I really understand. But you are only hurting yourself by keeping this up. I'm going to give you these pills, and I want you to be taking them nightly, ok?" Luke mumbled a few smart remarks, but was interrupted by the doctor, "I'm serious, Luke. I want these to be gone by next Friday."
Luke nodded, and took the paper after the doctor ripped it from a pad. Luke crinkled the paper and shoved it deep into his coat pocket. Dr. Yokham motioned for him to leave, and Luke turned, heading for the door with his head down.
Outside, Luke Corman made his way to his silver Audi TT, and headed to get his prescription filled.
...
The brass keys jingled as Luke unlocked the deadbolt of his front door. As he began unlocking the bottom lock, Luke's ears interpreted a creaking sound. Freezing his hand and the keys, Luke turned his head sharply to the right and suspiciously eyed surrounding trees. Spotting nothing, he turned around and faced a white picket fence belonging to his neighbor. Shrugging off the issue, Luke entered his house after opening the wooden door.
Luke entered the dining room, and clicked on the chandelier by flipping the switch on the wall. He set his keys, and pills on the table, and after hearing the creaking from outside again, he looked out through the many windows across the table. After heavily blinking his black eyes, Luke turned and headed up the stairs in the hallway. Quickly walking past his daughter's old bedroom, as if to avoid it completely, Luke stepped into his own room, and collapsed on the bed.
Luke sighed deeply, and closed his eyes. After a moment of silence, he realized he could never sleep without the pills. His dream was so vividly real. Almost as if he were reliving the experience at the hospital. As if his daughter had past away a second time. Not wanting to remember Luke shot his eyes open, and immediately returned downstairs to the dining room.
Tossing a few pills in his mouth, Luke closed his eyes, rubbed the back of his neck, and swallowed the two tablets. Luke closed the bottle, and headed back to the stairs. As he reached the bottom step, and looked up, Luke felt like the stairway seemed much taller than before. Dizzily Luke began climbing the mountain before him; each step sapping more and more energy from his tired legs.
When he finally reached the top step, Luke turned right, and slowly headed back to his room. At the beginning, this trip to his bed seemed no different from the other trips made for the past three years. Then Luke stopped. He stopped right in front of his daughter's door. He turned to the left. The door was open. For the first time in three years, it was open. With his eyes open wide, Luke stepped inside and noticed it. Among his daughter's belongings, there it was. The small paper would haunt his memory forever. He looked at it for a long while. And after almost a minute of silence, Luke began screaming.
