Unnatural Instinct: Wish
16

As you stand at the kitchen bench scoffing down a bowl of noodles, you can’t stem the swell of excitement in your belly. It won’t be long before you’ll have to sleep and you’ll see him again!

The clock ticks past four pm. You’ve slept only twenty hours this time. Only. You could almost laugh. Like the last time, it doesn’t feel right. Your dream didn’t feel anywhere close to that long.

It isn’t fair. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around with dreams?

You spend the rest of the afternoon eating and showering and going for a walk. Your head is heavy and you had to take some Panadol to ease the throb in your temples. You’ve tried to drink as much water as you can but your mouth still feels dry.

You don’t walk for very long. Despite all the sleep—or perhaps because of all the sleep—your feet drag. Your thighs are aching. And your heart is beating too fast for such a short distance. Somewhere in the back of your mind you know all this sleep isn’t good but you ignore it. You have to see him again. There is no choice.

You head back home just after the sun sets. Sarah is sitting on the couch with her feet on the coffee table, her boyfriend lounging beside her with his arm around her shoulders.

‘So, you’re finally up. As you can see, I didn’t wake you this time,’ she says a little resentfully. Her eyes narrow. ‘You look sick.’

‘Not sick. Just hungry.’

You turn to fish in the fridge for something more to eat. You end up making yourself a sandwich before returning to your room. You feel her eyes following you as you close the door behind you. Now what are you supposed to do for the rest of the evening?

Climbing into bed, you pick up the book, much less warily now. Smiling, you let the pages fall open as they will. Again, it falls upon his picture. But this time there’s something different about it. Is it your imagination or is there a slight frown to his mouth? It’s hard to tell.

Then you look down to the caption. Your heart does a little jump. Instead of “All you need do is wish it”, now there’s “Make me happy”.

Your eyes flick back to his face again. Now you see it clearly; there’s definitely a downward pull to his mouth. Have you upset him? Because you had to leave? What if he is angry with you? Worse—what if he doesn’t take you back?

‘But I wished for it,’ you tell him.

He gazes up at you with his mismatched eyes, silent and secretive. The very same eyes that had looked at you with such passion. You shift your hips, remembering how nice he felt inside you.

You shut the book. Leaving your room, you enter the kitchen. Just one, you think to yourself. Just one to help relax you enough to fall asleep.

Sarah and her boyfriend haven’t budged from their seat. They don’t look at you as you clatter around the cupboards, concealing the fact that you are after one thing and one thing alone. You’ve drunk some water. You’ve had another snack. You’ve washed your dishes.

Finally, you pull out the medicine drawer. You glance at them both but they’re still watching television. Quickly, you seize the bottle of pills. Trying your best to look casual, you go back to your room and close the door.

Immediately, you pop a pill into your palm. One is safe. One will be enough to relax you. But will it help you sleep? You pop another pill. Two will definitely be enough. Maybe three. You swallow them dry.

Back in bed, you pick up your phone. You should put your alarm on. But what if you’re in the middle of sex when it happens? You can’t have that happen again. Turning your phone onto silent, you put it back on your bedside table.

You lie in bed for a few minutes before changing your mind and picking it up again, setting the alarm for morning. Lying back into your pillows, you close your eyes.

You’re not in the castle this time but outside, standing at the edge of the marshes. It’s really dark, the moon concealed behind a bank of heavy black clouds. You blink and look up as it starts to spit. Shivering, you wrap your arms around yourself. Why are you back out here? And the castle—there are no lights on, appearing dark and ominous. With no moon, there’s no light illuminating the path through the marshes.

You speak your name but it does nothing.

Cross the marshes. Try.

So you do, picking your way between the long grasses, trying desperately to remember what route you took. But it seems so long ago now. Almost a lifetime ago. How can he expect you to remember? You yelp as you sink into the mud right up to your knee. You’re wearing your pyjama pants and you feel the sloppy mud soaking the fabric. You pull yourself out and stumble back, breathing hard.

You keep going and do quite well, avoiding the worst spots. Frogs are croaking. A bug is buzzing around your head. A huge toad hops into the water just in front of you. You grimace at the thought of what else might be in there. Eels? Snakes?

You keep going.

You’re about twenty yards away from the castle when you suddenly sink up to your waist. You pull yourself out, only to sink back down again, this time to your chest. Slowly, you manage to pull yourself out, stinking and shivering, the mud sucking at your feet as though intentionally trying to drag you down.

You want to cry. How can he be so cruel?

You walk a short while, every step punctuated with a jolt of fear that sends an electric charge shooting up your spine. Only one misstep and everything could be over.

And then it happens; with a yelp, you sink so deep that you’re fully submerged, the warm, putrid water closing over your head, threatening to fill your mouth, your lungs, your bloodstream. Desperately, you claw towards the surface. You break through and manage to take a small breath before you submerge again. The water is too thick and the reeds below tangle around your feet. This time you really are being dragged down.

Your chest is starting to ache. Your eyes are burning in your head as you strain to see through the murky water. Is this it? Are you really going to die?

A dark film spreads over your eyes. You’re about to do the inevitable; the urge to take a breath is too great. Then something shoots through the water, seizing onto your wrist like a clamp. Before you know it, you’re back on dry land, coughing your guts up. Rolling onto your back, you suck in deep, desperate breaths.

Your eyes are open but you don’t register the face looking down on you. You don’t register that same someone lifting you into their arms. Wordlessly, he picks a route through the marshes without effort, his boots crunching through the reeds. The clouds pull away from the moon and its bright light gleams upon his white shirt and hair.

It couldn’t be anyone else.