DEFYING MY MATES

The Nightmare

I stood on a never-ending red carpet laid on the floor of the huge hallway. The hallway was lit with numerous candles on the stands chasing away the darkness of this bizarre place. As I looked up to the ceiling, the crystal chandeliers spiraled down, illuminating the stone walls of the hallway. The huge wooden doors were engraved with a gold embedded sign. The word beautiful itself wouldn’t do justice to the sight in front of me.

Believe me. I have visited the Castello di Stefano in Milan. Even if I had only seen the hallway of this place, I knew right away this castle was far more beautiful than the Milan one.

I need to know now where in the world I am. I walked in the hallway for a few minutes when I heard whispers as if someone was arguing. Gradually, I approached the whispers till they turned into murmurs.

But suddenly, my mind forced the brutal scenes from the crime thrillers I have read so far. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. There was nothing in the hallway except the candle stands to defend when needed. Moreover, it was about 10 feet above the ground and with my 5”4’ height, it was impossible for me to reach it. I couldn’t even imagine how in the world someone would reach that high to light the candles.

“Hello!!” I said in a calm voice, regardless of the criminal stories going through my mind in which I was going to die in the end, no matter what I did.

To my horror, my voice echoed off the ginormous walls of the hallway.

On an impulse, I said the F word a little louder than I intended to. And, it felt funny to listen to a repeated single word in a diminishing voice.

However, I went from funny to an alert mode while the voices got louder, as if they didn’t hear anything at all.

The voices led me to a huge wooden door a little different from the rest as it had a crest carved in it. Some people were talking, a man and a woman to be precise. I didn’t intend to eavesdrop on their conversation, but I couldn’t help it. The more I listened to them, the more I knew it was a love triangle.

I felt as if I was in a movie or something.

“Mikael, I love you. I have been in love with you ever since I knew the real you.” The sweet honey voice said to the man named Mikael. I could relate to her as I was in the same situation a few months back.

“We can’t do this. You can’t do this to me or to Lancelot. I have always seen you as a little sister. Whatever I have done for you, either it was sneaking you out of your room to show you how beautiful the world looked at night or to take the blame of yours to save you or anything that I have done. I did it because l do love you but not romantically.” I think Mikael and Eric are related or the entire men species uses the same excuse when cornered.

“Even if I did accept you, you do know that I have a mate out there somewhere. I can’t just abandon her, to accept you and to leave you in the end alone and grieving. I don’t want to break my mate’s heart along with yours.” Mate, as in roommate, dorm mate, that’s weird.

“But you don’t know her. You don’t know whether she is alive or dead, born or not, you don’t know a thing about her. But, you have known me for 25 years and we can work it out. We could make a beautiful couple too. Just give me a chance…one chance. I beg of you.” The unknown woman begged Mikael. I could imagine her puffy eyes, smudged makeup, quivering lips, a complete sobbing mess.

“I can’t do this to you. You deserve the world. You deserve the love you’re willing to share and I don’t have it in me to give you, but your mate can. He loves you dearly. He’s a kind man who will lay down his life for you. You can’t break his heart for a mere crush who doesn’t return your feelings.” Mikael said in his calm voice, but one could feel his raging anger behind it. What a funny way to say no? I bet he was a philosopher.

“But, I don’t love him. I love you. How can you not get it?” The woman yelled so loud that I almost jumped out of my skin. I shouldn’t be here eavesdropping on someone. So, I knocked on the door, but there wasn’t any response. I pushed the door, but it didn’t budge at all.

“Because I don’t want to. It’s true that I haven’t met my mate yet. But I love her whether she’s born or not. And if she had died, then I would have felt it in my heart. I know she is here somewhere and I am not going to reject her.”

WTF? Mate, again? Reject? I was not getting a thing. Giving it my all, I pushed harder and the door opened.

The door led me into the middle of nowhere.

Blood, too much blood, was the first thing I saw. I’m not the type of person who gets lightheaded easily, but the sheer amount of it was making me nauseous.

I felt like I was in a movie in which a maniac goes on a killing spree. There were bodies, dead bodies, everywhere. Not a single person was alive except a woman wearing bloodied armor and a sword with blood smeared on it which gave it an illusion of a ruby under the moonlight.

I couldn’t see her face because her hair was blowing furiously with the wind. But when she flipped it over her shoulder, I was horror struck. The soulless eyes, sinister smile and the tight grip on the sword.

All these things didn’t bother me as much as her face did, because she looked like me or I looked like her or worse, we both were one.

I woke up panting. Turning on the lights, I glanced at my alarm clock. It was 6 in the morning. The nightmares were getting worse and now, it's f*****g with my mind. Moreover, I didn’t f*****g know what triggered it in the first place.

I felt sleep deprived and tired as hell.

Shutting my eyes tight, I put my head in my palms, breathing heavily when I saw my blood-stained face and the sickening smile flashed through my mind. I tried hard to get rid of that horrible scene, but I couldn’t.

Wearing my slippers, I walked towards my mum’s studio and I knew that I had to paint it to get it out of my system. My parents knew I had nightmares, but I never told them what it was all about.

Entering the studio, I secured the canvas on the easel and took out all the colors I needed. Dipping my fingers in paint, I poured out everything on it, my misery, my anger, my fear along with my nightmare.

I painted till my limbs went numb and my fingers felt sore. I wanted my blood stained out of my head so that my mind could be at peace. After the painting was complete, I wiped the paint out of my hand with a cotton cloth.

Taking a few steps back from the painting, I stared at it to see whether it had any flaws in it, but none.

It was exactly what I saw, a different me which I couldn’t even imagine.

The one I saw seemed wild, defiant and lost while I had my own issues, but none of them were as grave as hers. Was that really me or a mere imagination?

Sighing, I dipped my palm in the black paint, smeared it on the painting, wiping the canvas off along with the memories of the dream I had in the process. And now, it was all black and I felt liberated, liberated from that horrid face who looked like me.

“What are you painting? Let me see.” I jumped out of my skin when I heard my mum, who was standing right beside me.

“Don’t do that. You scared the s**t out of me. And, nothing. I’m painting nothing.”, Putting my hand on my chest, I said, startled, when she was in ninja mode, as I didn't even hear her steps.

“Well, I’m no fool. You did paint something, then coated it black so no one could see it like you always do. I’m curious. What do you actually paint?” Mum raised her eyebrows in question while I looked at my ruined sweatshirt with a black handprint on it.

“Mum, I’ll tell you one day, but not today, because even I don’t know what it means. So wait till then. Will you?” I told her in a calm voice as I washed the black paint off my hands as I watched the tap water turning black.

“How come you don’t know what you’re painting?” Mum questioned, confused, while I mourned over my ruined sweatshirt which I really liked.

“Mum, I will tell you myself when I will be ready, but for now, let it go. Okay?” I pleaded in hope she would drop the topic as I was in no mood to relive that horrible dream. Not that I was going to tell her in the first place.

I wanted to tell my parents about my nightmare, but for some unknown reason, I couldn't bring myself to tell them. Probably because I thought they wouldn't think of me as their daughter anymore, or worse, I was afraid that I might really turn into someone whom I wouldn't recognize myself.

Because the similarities between us were uncanny. The only difference was I had a little self-restraint while she was as wild as an animal.

Dropping my wild imagination, I hugged my mother's back and nuzzled my face in her hair, breathing in the familiar scent for some comfort while my stomach grumbled in hunger.

Giving her puppy-dog eyes as I rubbed my hands on my stomach, I said, "I’m famished and let’s get something in our bellies."

"I know what you are doing, but, I won't force you to tell me if that's what you are worried about." She sighed as if she knew I was in distress. And of course, it's true a mother knows what her child is going through.

"I know. Let's go." Smiling, I held her wrists, swinging them back and forth as we walked towards the kitchen as if we were on a mission.

A mission to cook breakfast.