Dreaming Mutilations

A day after the accident, I went into a slow release from reality. I was no longer acknowledging the real world, for my mind could not handle the sudden change in my life. The thing lying in the bed in front of me was not my wife anymore. I would walk into the hospital room, glance at the mess on the bed, and assume that I was in the wrong room. I would say, 'Sorry, I thought this was Room 111.' I would turn around, red-faced, and leave the poor fellow alone.  Glancing at the door in the hallway,  I noticed that I had just left Room 111.  But where is my wife?  I would revert back to the room and encroach my way to the bed.  I would stand next to carcass and stare in confusion, convincing myself I was in the wrong room.  It was only when I looked at the soft, pale white hands, and the dainty diamond eternity band, that I realized this was my wife.

I did this three times.  After the third time, I refused to go back into the room.  I thought of the obvious fact that she would never look like herself again.  This simple thought sped me home to down a bottle of bourbon. The alcohol successfully sterilized my conscious mind, and eventually became my only friend. It temporarily took my memory and gave me its life. The eighth day at the hospital, the doctors told me they were going to remove some of the facial bandages.  I had been anticipating this moment with sheer horror.  An attractive nurse led me into the room and I followed reluctantly.  There was a doctor in the room already.  He glanced at me without speaking and gave me a grim look.

"Mr. Spaulding, I have some bad news." His dark eyes locked with mine. I felt my weight fall. I don’t want to be here.  Not now.  Not ever.  I watched the doctor's lips move ceaselessly, but the sound slowly faded into nothingness. Only a vague octave of sound hung somewhere in the air. I became light headed and felt my feet leave the ground.  My head hit the ground, and as I was slipping into unconsciousness, my only thought was '..Not in front of this nurse!..'

My eyes shut.

I awoke in a bed in the same pale room I had fainted in.  I stared at the ceiling and breathed.  My head was numb and my eyes felt like wax.  I sat up quickly and felt a warm feeling in my sinus.  Blood dripped from my nose and stained the blankets.  I’ve never had a bloody nose in my life.  I stared at the wall and looked at the vacant bed next to mine.  My wife was gone.  I uncoiled the tubes connected to my forearms and jumped out of the bed.  I found my clothes and left Room 111.  It was blindingly dark outside the door.  Not a sound or a sight.  I pulled my Zippo out of my pocket and lit it. The first thing i saw was the number on the door. 111. 

I started down the hall and tried the handle of the first door I came to.  I opened it and bright light slapped me in the face.  The woman lying in the bed nearly made me fall back screaming bloody mary.  It was her.  It was my wife.  It had to be.  She was the same except for the lack of a jaw and a nose.  When her blue eyes found mine, they instantly crushed my heart.  My eyes dripped transparent lava that gushed down my cheeks. Her tongue, fully exposed and very large, hung out of her face and dripped saliva.  Her nose was just like that of a skull, a dark, dark triangle.  I stared into the dark abyss of her nasal cavity.  Her uvula hung like a bloody bat in the cave which was her open mouth.  I took a step back in disgust, and tripped on my feet.  She stood up from the bed, pulled the wires and tubes connected to her wrists, and slowly began to move toward me. I was frozen in shock. I laid on the ground and stared up at the dripping tongue, getting closer and closer.

“Mmmgfgf,” her tongue swayed and flapped, saliva spraying my face. I was speechless. She continued to moan, an incoherent drone instead of her soft voice. Her blue eyes pierced mine, and pulled a few tears out. She came within reach of me and fell to her knees, blood dripping from her black hole, trickling onto her hospital gown. She reached out and touched my cheek. Her finger was scarred with scabs. A red tear flowed out of her eye.

She reached out her other hand and opened it. Crumbled inside was a folded up piece of paper, bloodstained and smudged with ink. I took it from her palm, being careful not to touch her skin. I opened the note and read it twice. PLEASE KILL ME.

I awoke from the nightmare at dawn, the sun light blinding me. There was a knock on the door, and the nurse came in. She was looking especially attractive today. She walked over to my bed, evidently not noticing I was awake, and stared me down. She was obviously attracted to me. I turned and looked directly into her face.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” She had a nice smile. “You fainted last night. I was worried about you,” She smiled again. “My poor little baby.”

“Uhhmm,”

“It’s all okay, dear. Ill take care of you.” Again, the smile and this time, a wink. She walked away from me towards the door and grabbed a clip board and scribbled something on it. Her hips swayed from side to side seductively. She looked over her shoulder and blew me a kiss, and left the room.

A few minutes passed and the doctor walked in. He very frankly informed me that my wife lost her jaw and her nose, disfigured most of her face, and would never be able to talk again. He left the room abruptly, leaving me alone in shock. The dream I had last night! I saw her in the dream, her jawless face. I know when I see her, she’s going to look like that. I can't bear to see her. I’m never going to be able to live on with her; our relationship will never be the same. She’s basically a vegetable. I can’t love her, I won’t love her.

The nurse walked in again. God was she gorgeous. More beautiful than my wife. But I mustn’t be thinking those thoughts, not now. My wife. Hell, I wouldn’t even be here if she wasn’t yelling at me in the car on the way to the party. We were arguing, I wasn’t paying attention to the road, her seat belt wasn’t on, and I drove into the back of a semi truck going eighty. The next thing I remember is stumbling out of the car, looking at my wife hanging out of the windshield. Blood was everywhere…

She was the one that caused all this mess. She put herself in this position. She leaves me with a six figure hospital bill, and I don’t even have life insurance. Damn her. The nurse spoke and awoke me from my violent day dreams.

“Hey honey. Everything's going to be all right."  I didn’t say anything, yet I stared at her very revealing cleavage. "I think I know what's troubling you. It's not your wife exactly, it's the problem she's created for you. Am i right?" I blinked and stared at her. I felt like slapping her but, she was right.

"You're exactly right. What's your name?"

"Andrea." A wink.

"Andrea, hmmm."

"You know Mr. Spaulding, I think I can help you out with your little problem." She walked around to the other side of the bed, scribbling on her clipboard. She stood by the window, the light illuminating her flawless face.

"And how is that, Andrea?"

She took two steps toward me, leaned on me and whispered in my right ear, "Accidents happen." Her breath was cold and minty and it made hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She stood up straight and smiled. "If your wife dies in the hospital prematurely, you wouldn't have to pay all those  medical bills." She strode towards the door and turned to say one last thing.

"You know Mr. Spaulding, I can help you out with a lot. I can help you with anything you want. Anything at all."

In the dream I had the previous night, my wife wanted me to kill her. Maybe this was true. Maybe everything was coming into place. The dream. The nurse with her twisted idea. Could this be done? I was at my house thinking this over. I sat on the couch and stared at the television, but not actually watching it. I thought for hours. I pulled out Andrea's phone number (she slipped the note in my jacket pocket) and stared blankly at it. I sighed at the strange numbers. 911-9111. I went to the phone and dialed her number. It buzzed seven times and just before I was about to hang up, Andrea answered.

"Andrea."

"Hello?"

"Andrea, its me."

"Oh, Mr. Spaulding," I could just picture her smiling.

"I've made up my mind. And you're right. This is the only way out. It'll be better for me, and for her."

"And for me, too. For us."

"Right, us. Uhhm. You're still at the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'm leaving now, Andrea. Bye."

"Goodbye, my lo--"

I grabbed the door knob and left my house. I reached into my pocket for my car keys, and felt a piece of paper. I pulled out the car keys and the paper fell out onto the ground. It's just Andrea's number. I opened the door and got into the car. I turned the ignition and then realized I left her number inside. I frowned and opened the door and reached for the piece of paper. The paper was smudged and wrinkled. I unfolded it.

"What the hell,"

PLEASE KILL ME. 

Author's Note

I wrote this short in the eleventh grade, when I was eleven, in 2011