“Everything looks stable.” She tucks Gia’s hand back under the blanket and arranges her hospital gown at her chest. “Maybe tomorrow we can wash your hair.” She smooths and tucks a strand behind Gia’s ear. “That sound good?”
My chest cramps at the thought of this being Gia’s reality. People talking to her deadened face, a tube coming out of her mouth so she can breathe.
Wake up, baby. Please.
*
Mac
I’m in the basement. The one from my childhood home, or at least I think it is. It’s hard to tell because it’s so dark. I’ve been stumbling around, feeling my way against the cold concrete walls. There’s nothing. No windows, doors, stairs. Empty.
I’m forgetting something important, but when I reach with my mind to figure it out, I get nothing. Anxiety makes me fidget. I’m nervous. But why?
Being stuck in this small dark space sends a flash of panic through my veins. My skin prickles with sweat. But just like turning around in a dark hall, when I try to pick apart the reasons for my unease, I come up with nothing: no memory of a past, no anticipation of the future.
I curl up in the corner, holding myself together. The only thing I have in here, the one thing that I associate with any feeling at all is the voice.
I wait, stretching my hearing to listen for the voice that calms my restlessness. These are the moments I live for, to hear his stories and whispered words of how much he misses me. Needs me.
He feels so much. I can hear it in the way he talks. If only I could figure out how to get to him. I’ve tried to talk, even yelled, but the walls in here are too thick. He can’t hear me.
A low rumble echoes from somewhere far away. I quiet my mind and concentrate. Please be him. I hear the faint sound of his voice.
No, wait. Voices.
His and another. He’s not talking to me, but to someone else. At least he’s close. That’s enough for now.
“Thanks for coming, Rave.”
Who’s he talking to?
“She looks so peaceful.”
My breath hitches at the familiarity of that voice.
“God, I’m so sorry.”
It’s a woman. She sounds so sad.
“It’s not your fault, Rave.”
Rave? I know her. But how?
“No, it’s not. It’s Dominick’s fault. All of this.”
Anger and the fire of revenge ignite my blood.
“I killed him, but he’ll never die.”
Her voice is mad and matches the feeling that surges in my chest.
“I just want her back.”
It’s him, my angel in this hell.
“I know, Rex. Me too.”
My head tingles and my hands feel numb.
Rex. Rex?
Visions explode behind my eyes: blue eyes, hands clasped beneath a door, tattoo-covered arms and chest, and his smile.
Oh my God. Rex!
I rush to the walls of the basement. I’m here. He needs to know. I smack my palms against the unforgiving wall. Rex, help me! I scurry down the wall and hit a corner. My hands search for a fissure, an imperfection that might lead to freedom, something I’ve done before, and still, no escape.
I drop to my knees. Memories wash over me in debilitating waves: the bear, this basement, Dominick, and Hatch. Oh, no. I was dead. I died, and yet Rex is here.
I don’t want to say goodbye. I’m not ready to let go. He’s been telling me this entire time to fight, to break free from the dark, but his words were like gibberish. I get it now. He wants me to come back to him.
Fight for him. Fight for us.
Pushing up with renewed strength, I throw my weight against the walls. My fists pound harder to no avail. I scream and kick the solid mass. A growl of frustration explodes from my throat.
“Gia, baby, I’m here.”
Rex! I fight harder, throwing my body against the darkness that separates us. I kick the solid wall. Once, twice. I punch it, shove against it, cry, scream, and thrash for release.
“Yes, that’s it. Fight for it. Don’t you give up, baby.”
A fierce war cry bursts from my lips. I run from one end to the other, hurling my body against the walls.
“You’re there; now push through. Follow my voice, Gia.”
I listen, close my eyes, and focus on his voice.
“Remember me. Remember.”
I remember.
“Now fight!”
My muscles tense. A tremor starts in my gut and coils with power. I crouch.
I remember you, Rex.
A final thrust from deep within and a guttural roar, and I burst free into bright light. My throat burns. Arms close in tight around me.
“Yes, baby. Fuck yeah, you did it.” His face is buried in my neck; all I can see is his dark hair and feel his breath against my ear. “God, yes! You did it.”
I’m weak and can’t move. I try to talk, but something blocks my words. I try to rip it out. Women dressed in blue scrubs rush into the room. Rex pulls back, tears spilling from his tired eyes. They take something from my mouth. I cringe at the release and gasp for air.
Exhausted, I push two words from my throat. The only two words that matter.
“I remember.”
Twenty-six
Lived locked in a void,
a death with no tomb.
But your light guided me
And brought me home to you.
--Ataxia