Resurrection

I dream of her. Annie Wilkes.

When I close my eyes, I can smell her breath, as though she's bringing me back to life again. And that's what she did, in a weird sort of way. She brought me back to life. She resurrected Misery, and when she did, she resurrected a part of Paul Sheldon that I had forgotten about.

The dreams aren't always good though. I see the axe sometimes, and the bread knife. I hear the gunshots. I feel the rats crawling all around me, and I wake up screaming, thinking I'm in her basement again.

But she's dead, and I know that. I really do. It's hard to convince myself of it when the lights are out though...

I find myself talking as she spoke. Chastising myself for using bad language the way she often told me off. When I use a bad word, I sometimes call myself a 'dirty birdie' and then laugh at my own stupidity. I laugh even though it scares me. I laugh because otherwise, I will be tempted to take a gun to my head- because sometimes I think I'm becoming her.

She's still alive.

In my head, she's still alive.