It’s been a while since I posted anything on blog and I apologize to all my readers.
So, I thought it would be nice to start the month off by sharing a short excerpt from the book that I am currently working on. This book has not been edited, but I want to share something special with all my followers!
Feel free to leave a comment or head over to my Author’s Page on Facebook and leave a comment!
The last thing I remembered was traveling down the bridge over on Crest Street, after leaving the bar from my occasional Friday night hookups with the gals. I don’t know how I got here or how long I’ve been here. This place is frightening. Awakening to this dark unfamiliar place, in a room unknown to me, and bound against my will is frightening.
The sound of rolling thunder beats against the shutters and strikes of lightning awakens me again to this horrifying place. Rumbling strikes of lightning breaks through the glass window that reflects against the mirror besides me. I vigorously try to free myself from the shackles on the bed. For what seems like days passing by, more and more of my body is bounded by ropes and chains. I lay helplessly on a wooden framed bed with a single mattress to support my ever dwindling body.
My feet appear to be tightly wrapped together with some type of rough fabric. My wrists are cuffed to the wooden bed frame. As I twist and turn, my stomach suddenly begins to rendered a sudden shock of pain traveling across my waist. For what feels like rolls of coils around my waist they seem to tighten with every move I make. There’s a tube entangled near the coils around my stomach on my left side. It’s hard to see what’s passing through the tube. But the pain from the tube hurts immensely.
A sudden chill sweeps over my body. The shattered window has made this room colder than before. As the wind screaks, I scream for help as loud as I can but the faintness from dehydration has left me with little voice. I attempt to cry as I try to concentrate on the last place I was at before here. My thoughts are scattered. I can’t seem to focus long enough on a single thought, as though I’ve been heavily drugged. I attempt to cry for I am frighten and confused. I am lost in my own mind in a world unknown. In a dark room with a single purple curtain to block out the world and a wooden bed that hold my fragile body. I fight to keep my eyes open long enough in hopes of a welcoming visitor. But my body continues to win a fight I no longer have control over.
∞ ∞ ∞
I awoke the next morning snatching the covers off of Michael. He turns to me with a look of concern. The frightened look on my face has reassured him of the worse. As he reached over to kiss me, I threw my body back. I know he could tell that I had another nightmare but he resists the temptation to even ask anymore. I have been suffering from these horrific dreams for weeks. It’s hard to tell my husband of two weeks about my dreams. I couldn’t possible frighten the man of my dreams into believing he has married some lunatic woman. We barely knew each other after six months before tying the knot. I want this marriage to work because I need this marriage to work. I struggle to stay silent every new day in fear of losing him. My stomach has devoured another plan. I know he wanted to ask me about my dreams. Though with every new day, he shows an incredible resistance in not asking. He leans to the other side of the bed before denouncing his retrieval to the bathroom. I can only imagine what’s going through his head right now.
As he rolled to the end of the bed, I reach for his arm in my attempts to reconcile with him but he steadfastly pushed me away. I feel bad for the things that I am not able to control. I feel bad that this man has to endure so much from me for the short time we’ve been married. I try to not take it to heart when he thrusts his body away from me, but my thoughts perceive my abilities. I know it’s been difficult for him to sleep over the last few weeks for I am the one to blame. He tries not the show any emotions. But it’s hard not to tell through his demeanor. I can’t even begin to fathom the stress I’ve put on him over the last few weeks.
I haven’t gotten up enough courage to tell him what’s been going on with me. Partly, because I can barely remember the dreams myself, though part of me doesn’t want to remember the dreams. It started a few days after we came back from our honeymoon. At first, they weren’t so bad. I would kind of fall in and out of what felt like a deep sleep when they would appear. As time went on, they became more intense. He began to notice at that point. As he would describe it, I would fight in my sleep and become extremely violent towards him. Once, he asked if I had any regrets, but I reassured him of our happy unity. As time has passed, I wonder if this unity has spun these dreams about.
Gathering my all my thoughts and emotions, I grabbed my robe off the chair in our room and made my way to the kitchen. As he was preparing himself for work this morning, I started breakfast for us. He loves the smell of my coffee after getting out the shower and I try my hardest to finish breakfast for him before he heads out the door. I put a lot of stress on myself in attempting to prepare breakfast for him every morning. I believe the only reason for the stress I endure from making breakfast for him is to show a little gratitude for tolerating me the night before. Or maybe it’s a ploy to keep my husband. My life hasn’t always been this great but I refuse to let my past be my present. Starting the coffee first, I reached over to the counter near the window to grab the last blueberry bagel in the house. He loves his bagels lightly toasted with a single egg white fried hard and a slice of bacon. I tried to add the strawberry jam on the bread before he made it downstairs, but my focus was completely shattered by my dream last night.
As he made his way down the stairs, I scurried through the kitchen to finish his breakfast and pour his coffee in a mug. Before long, he made it in the kitchen to finish along his own breakfast. Practically pushing me out of the way, he reached over the counter before I could wrap the sandwich in some foil, grabbed his mug and jetted out the door.
It always makes me feel bad when he gives me the silent treatment. I’ve tried to convince him that he has nothing to do with my nightmares, but it’s hard to convince him sometimes. Especially considering the fact that I can barely remember the dreams myself! Or at least, I choose not to remember the dreams. Once he heads out the door, and through the driveway, I run back to the kitchen to start up the computer. As the computer begins to start up, I dodge over to the cabinet to grab a mug and pour myself a cup of coffee. Proceeding through the kitchen to the storage closet, using a step stool to reach in the back of the top shelf, I grab my pack of smokes. Taking my smokes and coffee, I proceed out the back door to enjoy. The smell of the morning dew always seems to brighten up my mood after a difficult morning with Michael. I down the cup of coffee over four cigarettes in less than twenty minutes. It’s something about the coffee with a few cigarettes that easy my nerves to get through the day. Wasting no time after finishing up my forth smoke I make my way back into the house and proceed to my morning work flow.
I’ve been working from home for about eight months. It’s been very profitable for me and I love the flexibility it offers. I began telecommuting a few years ago. It took me a while to find that “perfect company”. Going through three different companies over a nine month span was well worth the experience and opportunities. When I first started working for this company, they required all new employees to work at their headquarters for six months. I only made it to four months. The drive began to exhaust me rapidly. I use to dread the two hour commute to work. I wasn’t making much progress over time and the drive home was even longer, which made me even grumpier the next day. I was able to persuade my boss that I would get more work done from home, than in the office. He agreed diligently to allow me to try it out on a monthly basis. So far, it’s been about eight month since I started working from home, and well worth the adjustment. I work for a multi-million dollar marketing company. And currently serve as the Vice-President of Marketing Affairs. In short reference, I handle all of the dispute claims for the organization.
It took some time to get use to adjusting to the extra freedom I had working from home. At first, I would spend the entire morning completing my work which left too much free time for the rest of the day. Then I tried working through the afternoon, spending my morning watching television and cleaning. Well, it worked for a short time but I would feel an enormous amount of stress in finishing dinner before Michael returned home from work. It took my about a month to find the right schedule for me. So for now, I start work around 9am and finish my morning spell by noon. From noon till about four in the afternoon is spent for cleaning, reading, shopping, or whatever else I’m in the mood for that day. After four, I usually start dinner and check my work emails, finish any paperwork necessary, mediate claims, and write adjustments. I’m not one of those Betty Crocker type wives that believe she should spend all day hovering over a stove making a delicious meal for her husband. Although, I will share the work load for cooking dinner three times a week. It’s the least that I can do since I work from home. By the time dinner is finished, Michael is strolling in the house. Normally, I am finishing up my work load within an hour tops.
At times, I think Michael appreciates me being home at night when he returns. Though, there are other times, when he appears to resent my presence upon arriving home. I have learned to look past his disgruntle stares and concentrate on my work.
We commonly spend the evenings watching a movie and eating dinner. Michael will occasionally bring work home, so he’s off to the study immediately after dinner. My nights can become boring in a matter of minutes. I guess it’s just me longing for some attention from my husband. On the nights that he brings work home, he will sit in the study until almost 10pm; before returning to sight. By the time he announces his presence and I am heading to bed. Our life operates like this five days a week.
Sometimes I wonder if this is what marriage life is about, or if we are missing something in our marriage. Considering we are a young couple. A freshly married couple, I just always thought that our sex life would be so much better!
Tonight, is like no other night. Michael and I pass each other in the halls. He kisses me on the cheek and I return the favor. With the delicate words that part his lips, “Love you Sweetie”. There are times I wish he could understand the heartache the distance brings me.