Chapter 9.2
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Today wasn’t the day to start a war. I calmly walked away, to my desk, and packed up everything I’d need for the weekend. As I left the office, I could feel everyone’s eyes stuck to my figure, judging me, silently telling me what a bitch I was. And in a way, they were right. I was a bitch, today at least.

Just as quickly as I’d undergone the long commute to work, I had to go back home in disgrace. I blanked through most of the trip back, my body finally giving in to the wild night I’d had in my head, and after coming home and dropping everything I had on me on the floor with the last ounces of my strength, I collapsed into bed and fell into blissful, dreamless sleep.

I woke up the next morning, having slept the better part of the day and through the entire night, and thought I was going to die right there and then. Every muscle in my body was hurting from the excessive bed time. I was starving for both food and water so much that I wanted to vomit, and my head hurt like an absolute bitch.

“Really?” I said to myself after looking at the clock. Six in the morning. Seventeen hours asleep.

Outside, it was still pitch-black, and I stopped trusting myself with awakenings. Perhaps I was in another elaborate dream, after all. I pinched and slapped myself to no effect, before trying to open a book and read it. Every word was exactly where I expected it to be.

I was awake, then. Most likely. With my brain already completely fucked up, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if there was no method of figuring out whether or not I really was in a dream. Still, the traditional methods were still the most reliable, and this was the best I had. Most likely awake, and most certainly in an even worse state if I wasn’t.

After recovering my body from the extended night, I went about my favourite part of the morning. Coffee. Despite the pitch blackness and the freezing temperatures, I took my mug and went outside just to sit down on the staircase and enjoy my coffee.

The early morning is peaceful. Especially on Saturdays, when no-one is in a rush to get anywhere, and most people are enjoying their morning in bed. There was nothing to hear except the distant rumble of trains. No people. None of their emotions.

The past year had truly shown me that everyone was in their personal version of Hell, and whatever they’d done to me meant that I would share them all. I’d share all the kinds of Hell there were in this world, and the moments of happiness were too rare and too fleeting to make any significant difference.

“What are you doing to yourself, Jordan?” I said to myself. I knew that whatever was going on was sending me down a one-way street, a path I could not walk the other way. But I also knew that there was never a chance I would turn back once I was shown an interesting idea.

Aaron sharing my thoughts for the first time, all those months back, was something I never even thought was possible, and yet, he was there. I was having my usual procedure, I wasn’t in pain, and I’d found a soulmate to boot. What wasn’t to love?

My clothes had finally given way to the cold, and I felt myself shiver. Still, I didn’t want to go inside yet, and thought of Aaron. I thought of him the way I imagined him – tall, clumsy, funny. Perfect, really. I thought of the way he’d pull me closer to him and warm me up, just to let me enjoy my coffee a little while longer, even though he knew I was freezing.

This was the man I was going to meet, or at least I hoped. This was my Aaron. This was whom I was going to open the next chapter of my life with. However, at that moment, he wasn’t there with me, and he wasn’t there to warm me up despite my conscious thoughts taking my mind off the cold for a moment. I still had to go inside sooner than later.

Once I’d got back up, I went about my day, but soon after showering and having a second breakfast just for the hell of it, I got bored. The music that I’d played out in my head last time under was far too technical for what I could play on my guitar. Besides, I needed more guitars. I needed someone to play with me.

I tried reading, or listening to music, but it just didn’t do it. All the words and music I’d consumed over the past year or so sent me into such saturation that I just couldn’t continue. Too much was still too much. With absolutely nothing to do, my mind kept wandering. Kept wandering to Aaron, and to the dream.

I thought about how real it felt, and about how perfect it was. I thought about Aaron’s appearance. Did he really look the way I’d imagined him, or was he someone completely different? He said he’d recognise me in a heartbeat. Did he really know what I looked like, or was he going to completely wing it and go for the strange, worn-out woman standing in the middle of the bridge?

And what if, perhaps, he wasn’t real? I turned from dark to darker, discussing the implications within myself. If I really was alone in all of this, it would mean that all the science and all the emotion sharing was just gibberish. The hallucinations of a torn woman. With everything lost, I thought, there would be nothing to define me anymore. I would cease to be human. With no humanity left…

“Get the fuck up,” I told myself, and my body somehow obliged, obeying me instead of the rogue part of my mind. Almost automatically, I picked the phone up and called my mother.

Many beeps later, the phone disconnected the call. She hadn’t picked up, for whatever reason. Wonderful. I paced around the flat, looking for things to do that would properly distract my brain from thinking and let me be my creative self that I knew I could be. Then it hit me – I was only truly free outside of my own body. Under the anaesthetic.

I wrung out the piece of paper that Colin had given me, and dialled the number. He immediately picked up, as if he was waiting for the call.

“Hello? Colin Alexander speaking.”

“Hi, Colin, it’s Jordan,” I said, shivering at the very idea of being outside this husk again.

“Jordan! That’s an early call, I thought you weren’t meeting Aaron until tomorrow!”

“I am, but I’m bored,” I said. “Do you think you could put me under again? I need to be creative to get out of this, and it works best while under there.”

“No, I can’t,” he said.

“Why? You’ve done it many times before.”

“Well, first, we’ve found what we want, and your body doesn’t need the additional stress anymore. That’s the medical reason. The practical reason is a lot simpler. We’re out of it. What we used last time was the last of what we had. I’m sorry,” he said. “But you’re welcome to come over for a cup of coffee if you feel like it.”

“I think I might just do it,” I said. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

“See you,” he said, and hung up.

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