I scream your name into the woods. I’m sure I’m running int he right direction. It’s been 5 hours since you’ve been gone. Wait, no, maybe 6 now. I can’t think. I can’t eat.
My heart and my lungs and my body want you back, but my brain can’t figure out where you’ve gone. You got up early this morning, and I guess I thought you were just going to the bathroom, but I checked after a while and I couldn’t find you. The back door was unlocked, and so was the gate. The one leading to the woods.
I had a dream about you last night. It wasn’t a good one, but you were there and that was nice.
It was probably a nightmare. I don’t know what makes a nightmare different from a bad dream, but it wasn’t something I want to remember.
We were in my bed, like usual, calm and comfortable. I was holding you, and it was cold outside, so I was hugging you tightly. You rolled over and kissed me on the head, and you told me you loved me. I asked you why. You said why not.
You told me you loved me for forever.
And I smiled, and I knew I loved you too.
We say it too each other all the time, but this time it meant something different. Like I wanted you to know it more.
The night began to get colder though. Colder and colder. Like we’d left a window open somewhere or maybe the AC was on, or maybe it was just a cold night. I stopped being able to my feet, and I started shivering. You were impossibly warm. I held onto you tightly, trying to steal the warmth but it was useless.
I needed the heat. It wasn’t even me who did it. Well, it was, but I promise I wasn’t in control. I was powerless.
There was a knife next to the bed. I don’t know why it was there. I needed the heat. I need you to understand that. Like I was going to die if I didn’t have it. And you had all of it.
So I stabbed you. I felt it go in. It was really vivid at this point. Like I could actually feel your hot blood spilling out from your chest and over my hands. It was too late though, I was hooked. I needed the heat, you have to understand that. So I stabbed you again. I made sure to miss your heart, because I would never ever damage that. I love you too much. I took your blood in, cupping my hands and I drank some. It made me feel so warm. It felt good, knowing that you were actually a part of me. That you were now smeared across me, making me feel warm.
It was on your clothes and in your hair. I feel bad for ruining you like that, I didn’t mean to get it everywhere. Just on me, so that I could be warm again.
I held the knife in my hand and I saw it’s blade gleam in the moonlight, and I brought my arm back and was ready to do it again, and then I woke up. You were moving, getting up out of bed, and my heart was racing but I didn’t dare move. I was so warm I thought I was about to die.
I was so sleepy for some reason, like I could barely keep my eyes open, and I’d kicked all of the blankets onto your side of the bed. I held my eyes tightly shut, like you would punish me for having that dream if you knew I was awake.
I was awake then, I could feel how the bed moves underneath my body, could feel the warm patch where you once laid. Except it was getting colder now.
I fell asleep again. Only for a little while. The sun had come up by the time I got up. I don’t remember what I dreamed about. I waited, patiently in bed for you return, which you didn’t. Your spot had gone cold.
I’m in the woods now. I think I got cut on my chest a while ago, but I can’t tell. I can’t tell if it’s my blood.
I looked when I got up. There was no blood in the bed. But the knife was there. Why was there a knife by my bed?
I’m following a trail now. I’m beginning to get desperate. I know it leads to you. The dark, red sticky stuff on the floor? It comes from me. It’s not my blood.