Dysphoria

700 words. A flash fiction based on a writing prompt I saw on social media.

She was just relieved he couldn’t see the nightmares.

How could she even begin to describe it? How do you tell someone that every night, your mind conjured up worse and worse images of them? Just an hour ago she’d seen the local strip mall, dead and dark, with no shops to plead for shelter. She rattled the door. Smacked the window with her palm. Begged for escape. She turned and he was there. He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her back…

No. Not him, the dream. It was only a dream.

“You alright, honey?” His voice snapped her eyes open. Robert blinked down at her with concern etched into his eyes. “Bad dream?”

She looked up. She had to tell him, put these fears to rest. “No, I’m just thinking about bills.”

Robert smiled. “Don’t think about bills today. It’s a weekend, and a very special weekend at that.” He bent down, placing one powerful hand on the bed and making it sag down. His beard tickled the bridge of her nose as he kissed her forehead. “Happy birthday, sweetie. Now, what can I get you for breakfast?”

She returned the smile with a thin grin, and closed her eyes to receive the kiss. “Thanks Robert, you’re a sweetie.” She bit her lip as she thought quickly. “How about eggs and toast? Milk and an orange to go with it?”

“As you wish.” Robert winked as he strolled towards the door, closing it gently behind him. She kept wearing a smile as she watched him disappear. As soon as he was gone, it fell off and she turned to stare at her sheets. Her feet formed a pair of snowy peaks at the far end of the bed, and a warm blanket of white lace hid her form. The pillow hugged her head, and she closed her eyes.

Suddenly Robert landed atop her in bed. She screamed as he wrapped his hands around her throat. His eyes delighted in madness, and her voice came softer and softer. The gun. There was a gun in their drawer. She could use it, get him off. Her lungs couldn’t fill. Her cries came softer. With one last effort she called out:

“HONEY!”

She woke to hear herself screaming. Robert leaned over her. His eyes had been filled with panic, but now they softened.

“What’s going on? Please, let me know, maybe I can help you?” His strong coarse hand stroked her hair gently. “Let me help you?”

At this, she bit her lip. “I… I’ve been having these dreams… oh, but you’ll think they’re silly…”

“If they’re distressing you, then they’re important to me.” Robert took the plate off the foot of the bed and sat it in her lap. “Oh, I forgot the jam, I’ll be right back. Take a moment to relax, okay?”

She nodded, looking down at her dish. The eggs sat sunny-side with salted butter oozing puddles onto the toast underneath. Orange slices lined the bottom of the plate, forming a smile that beamed up at her. So kind, and the fresh food embraced her nose, encouraging her to close her eyes again.

A crash from the kitchen.

She gasped and sat forward. The plate went flying off onto the pure white sheets. Oh no… she cursed her mind as she flung herself over the side of the bed. Her hand grasped the drawer and with clumsy fingers pulled out the pistol. She licked her lips and waited for him to appear.

Robert came through the door. A silver knife glinted in his hand. She raised and fired.

“Hey honey, I spilled the jam�"” The gunshot cut him off. She screamed as he collapsed forward, yelling in pain. The image seared into her mind. She needed out of the dream, now!

But her screams usually did that for her.

“No… no no no, Robert!” She started forward, but paused. “No, you’re… you’re not really Robert. Robert’s waiting for me!” He stared up with disbelieving eyes, gasping in desperation, as she slapped herself across the face. “Come on, wake up! Wake up!” Then she saw the pistol in her hand.

“…wake up…”

 

Author's Note

Any comments are appreciated! This is a flash fiction exercise, so let me know how I did compressing everything, and also let me know what kind of sensation it gives you. Thank you!