Phase 4

Strange thing about Denzel.  When he came into my life, my nightmares stopped.  When I slept, I didn’t have those terrifying nightmares anymore that kept me up for years.  You know why?  My nightmare is real now.  And he’s standing over me constantly.


It was a nice night with my feet propped up, my favorite tv show on, and a glass of white zinfandel.

“Stupid Cuddy.” I murmured, “You don’t just kiss ‘em like that!” I rolled my eyes and took a sip from the large bottle, some drops of wine trickling down my chin and onto my t-shirt.  Friday nights were always good nights to get wasted because you can sleep in however much you want the next day.  I fiddled with the remote in one hand and my bottle in the other.

The show ended at 10:00 so I turned the tv off from some quiet, relaxing time, my bottle and I.  Too bad that’s not what I got.  But what I did get was quite surprising.  I felt Denzel place his hand on my shoulder and he said, “I want you to come to my world.”  As I was slowly getting drunk, I said, slurring my words together, “I dun want to get dead, Denzel.”

“You won’t die, Roslyn.” He assured.  “Will you come?”

“Ah, what else am I doing?”  I felt Denzel’s hands cover my eyes, I couldn’t see, then I could.  I was staring at grey scenery, standing on my two wobbly legs.  The ground had white and grey decaying skulls covering it.  I found my footing then looked far in front of me to see the silhouette of a man.  He wore a long black trench coat and had stick straight black hair that was shiny and clean.  The wind picked up, the area got cold.  I wasn’t preoccupied as to why there were hundreds of skulls in this endless area I was in; I was more entranced by the man, standing on top a heap of skulls.  As I walked carefully over the skulls, coming closer, I saw that his back was facing me.  He then turned his head so I could see his right profile, and he held out his hand to his side, looking down at it.  He had long boney fingers and a very thin frame.  Then again, it was a little hard to see the frame of his entire body because of the coat.  He then jerked his head up and fell down, his knees pressing up against his chest.  Is that Denzel?

I began running, stepping on the skulls beneath me, making horrifying crushing sounds.  I lost my balance on a skull and fell onto my face.  I froze for a moment, shocked, then opened by eyes to see I was staring face to face with a broken skull.  I shrieked and fell onto my elbows behind me.  I leaned back, then felt a strange presence I hadn’t felt before.  It was harsh and made my eyes water and my heart beat even faster.  I looked up slowly to see the same man, standing above me, with his hand stretched out below him, his palm facing me.  His palm was in front of his face.  I wanted to see his face so badly.  I stretched my neck out backwards and it began to reveal his face.  I took a glimpse of his right eye before he took his hand and punched me in my face.  It felt like everything slowed down in that moment, I was staring into the endless landscape, away from him, as my body fell onto its side.  I rolled onto my stomach in pain and looked down through the skulls, my vision started to get hazy.  His eye was just like mine, except the iris was black.  He had a completely black eye.  Literally…

I shook as I pushed myself up by my arms.  I then stood slowly, and turned to face the man.  I was looking down, I didn’t want to see his face.

I then took my hands and stretched them out in front of me.  I felt his cold face as my hands began to burn from the touch.  It stung terribly, but I held on.  I slid my hands down to his strong, neck and he didn’t fight back.  He didn’t even move.  I shut my eyes then brought myself closer to him.  My fingers stayed still, although I could feel the skin begin to peel from them.  I brought my face close to his, and his freezing breath formed cold crystals on my lips that melted after just a moment.

I stepped closer, placing my feet effectively so I wouldn’t fall, and I perked my head up, my eyes still closed.  And my lips found his.  I kissed him.  But this time, my lips weren’t burning.  I forgot about my fingers and my mouth started to freeze.  I kissed him.  I took my hands and they trailed up the back of his head and ruffled into his soft hair…

“BITCH!” I felt his fist slam into the side of my face and I fell onto my back.  My fingers burned as I fell onto the skulls and I arched my back in an uncomfortable curve so I’d only land on my shoulder bones.  I shot my chest into the air as I felt my face go numb.  My eyes opened and I saw him standing above me.  He was looking at his fingers, his long, boney fingers.  His hands were blocking my view to his face, but I could see his skin start to turn blue.  His bare feet were visible and I looked down to see as his toes curled to fit over the skulls.  The toes on his right foot curled into one skull’s eye and his other foot arched over the top of another skull.  His feet began to turn dark blue just as his hands were, like he was completely freezing.

After a minute, his body was dark blue, and I still lay on the ground, shaking.  I was so scared.  I reached up my singed fingers and went closer to touch his hand.  I swallowed deeply as my hand was just an inch away from his.  I then touched his hand.

His body shattered right in front of me, like glass.  Glass fell from above me and I covered my head and shrieked.  The glass cut into my skin and made me bleed all over.

“Denzel!” I screamed.  When the crashing and shattering sound had ceased, I opened my eyes and brought my hands back down.  I looked at my cut arms and my burnt fingers, then to my bloody pants and legs.  I had cuts all over my face, blood streaming down my face, slowing at my lip, then falling onto my teeth.  I sat in the shattered remnants of Denzel, all around me.  I stood, so slowly, and looked around me.  Glass shards were piercing the soles of my feet and others were sticking out of my arms and neck.  As I looked down around me, my hair fell in front of my eyes.  I carefully took my hands and brushed them out of my face.

I looked up, bottle in hand, and stared at my tv.  What just happened.  What the hell just happened.  I stood in a frightened panic and looked over my body.  No cuts, no scars, no singed hands, no frozen lips, no blood.

I put down the bottle then brought my hands to my face, covered my eyes and let out a sigh.

“What a fucked up dream.” I said.  I slid my hands down from the face then onto my neck.  “Owah!”  I slowly removed my hand from my neck to find a small bloody piece of glass between my fingers.

I ran to bathroom, turned on the light and looked at myself in the mirror.  A large cut had been made on the right side of my neck.  This was no dream.  I screamed and threw the piece of glass into the sink.  I staggered backwards, shutting the door with my back and I yelled.

“What the fuck was that, Denzel!” I cried, “Why the fuck would you do that!!” I began to cry.  I slid down the bathroom door and put my hands to my eyes.  I smeared the blood from my fingers onto my face, then, realizing this, I took my hands away from my face.  A tear cleared a clean path through the blood as it trickled down my face.  What just happened.


For days after that incident, I had been living in fear.  Fear of that sight I saw, fear of drinking again, fear of finding Denzel again, fear that the more I kept denying it, the more it would come back to haunt me.  I denied it in the beginning, and I found the evidence that it was so real.  I wasn’t just wasted, I was in reality.  Not my frequency of reality, but his.


Denzel hasn’t contacted me in days.  Have I killed him?  He wanted to welcome me into his life, but have I killed him right in it?  Have I broken our bond?  Why can’t I accept that he is gone?  Why do I want him back so badly.  Why.

I wrapped a scarf around my neck, as it was another Thursday (one week and 5 days since I had seen him ), and I had to report to work again.  I grabbed my purse from the counter along with my lunch and set them on the coffee table near the door.  I turned and walked into the bathroom past the living room.  I searched the oak cabinets for my toothbrush, found it, the turned on the faucet.

As I brushed my teeth, I opened the cabinet to get my anxiety and Schizophrenia medication.  Don’t ask, you don’t want to know how I got them.  I set my toothbrush down and popped open the anxiety pills.  I took three of them.  After I took two of the pills from the Schiz bottle, I placed both back into the cabinet.  I began to shut the cabinet door when the swinging mirror caught my attention.  I stared into the lower left hand corner of the cabinet to see something gleaming in the corner of the bathroom.  Before I shut the cabinet, I turned back and looked to the ground.  It was the piece of glass.  I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes as I turned back to the cabinet.  I reach into the cabinet again and took the bottles and put them both into my coat pocket.  With one last deep breath, I left the apartment and headed for work. …. I returned home that day needing more pills.  I also found that I had twelve unread voicemails on my answering machine.  How could I have forgotten about something so important?  I hadn’t listened to any since last week!  I pressed the blinking button and the messages began, all from the same person.

Phase 3 ----- Phase 5