Free Sanctity by S. M. Bowles Page B

that you are 3 times her
age and that if she thought about it she would understand that love
does not work like that.  I told her that you did not love her
the way she thinks you do, that is all.”
    “Ah, that is all,” Michael looked to the
floor and Brenda looked relieved.  She appeared confident that
Michael had accepted her explanation and was acknowledging the
truth of what she had said. 
    She took a step towards him, “I’m glad you
understand.  Elayna will be hurt for a day or two but she’ll
bounce right back and forget you just as quickly as you’ll forget
her.”  Michael stood motionless absorbing her words.  She
smiled and was about to wrap a hug around him in a gesture of
apology but as she raised her arms he suddenly came to life and
violently grabbed her throat. 
    I was trying to scream, or was it Brenda
that was trying to scream.  I couldn’t distinguish my dream
from reality as I fought to wake myself up. 
    The light flooded my room as my mom and dad
charged in.  “Elayna, are you alright?  You were
screaming sweetie.”  My dad swept me into a tight hug.  I
was shaking and sobbing.  I felt cold and damp and my
nightgown was clinging to me.  “Oh, goodness, she is burning
up.  Get the thermometer, honey.”
    My mother came back with it and checked
first one ear and then the other.  “101.8” she said,
“100.9.”  She left and quickly came back with another dose of
medicine.  I stifled my sobs and sipped it down.  She
helped me into a fresh pair of pajamas and tucked me back into
bed. 
    “Do you want to talk about it?”  She
always asked this when I had a bad dream.  I was not willing
to share this one though and shook my head no. 
    My father came in with a glass of
water.  “Here, try and drink some.”
    I took a couple of sips and handed the glass
back to him.  They took turns tucking me in and saying another
goodnight.  My mom lingered on the edge of my bed until she
felt that I was about to drift off again.  I was still awake
when she left though and as soon as she was gone I started to
cry.  They were quiet, private tears that I could not share
with anyone else. 
    There was something terribly wrong, I felt
empty; it felt like Michael had left me.  I had not heard his
attempts to reach me ever since I woke up and I just knew something
horrible had happened.   I felt remorseful, responsible
as I lay awake with my silent tears and tried to reach out to
him.  I was sure he would not answer, though, especially since
I was so adamant in my denials when he needed me. 
    I must have cried myself back to sleep
because when I woke again it was late Sunday morning.  My
first thought was for Michael; I strove to make my mind as open as
possible but it proved quite useless and I couldn’t seem to find
any sense of him. 
    I felt somewhat better, no longer feverish
but still a little achy.  I climbed down from my bed and
wandered into the kitchen.  My mom was making coffee and
stopped when she saw me.  “How are you feeling, honey?”
    “Better,” I said.  I didn’t say it with
much enthusiasm but she credited my listlessness to the fever and
the troubled sleep that I had had.
    “Do you feel hungry at all?”
    “A little,” I mumbled.
    I wasn’t very hungry at all but I knew that
my mom would tell me that I should eat at least a little
something.  She made me a light breakfast of toast and juice
along with a bit of fruit. 
    “Can I watch TV?”
    “Sure,” she ruffled my hair and helped me
arrange my breakfast on the coffee table.  Usually she would
tell me how long I could watch for but she was feeling generous
knowing I was down and left me to myself.
    I watched one or two shows but I wasn’t
really paying attention to either.  My dad came and sat with
me while I pushed the food around on my plate. 
    “You should try and eat a little more,
honey.”
    I absently picked up my toast and took a
tasteless bite.  After breakfast I got dressed and