“Look Jane, it’s just not working out between us anymore…I’m seeing someone else.”
Jane just stared at the man she had come to love and had hoped loved her back as he began to drive away. He got into his car and began to drive away; he thought he was doing the right thing. He drove down the roads, starting to exceed the speed limit because he just felt invincible. His car wasn’t brand new. It was sometimes referred to as a lemon by his friends and Jane. But he was confident enough in it that when it began to shudder he really thought nothing of it. He turned on to the main road barely slowing down until in front of him a semi truck with a small gasoline payload screeched to a stop. He slammed right into the back of the vehicle going 100 km/h. The back of the gas tank kind of buckled inwards as the car ripped a small hole in the back of it, and gasoline started to pour down onto him. His car was in pretty bad shape, the hood of the car was bent upwards. All he could smell, all he could taste was the gasoline covering him. All in all he wasn’t that badly hurt. He unbuckled his seat belt and started to climb out of the window, but there was a jagged piece of glass that he cut his waist on. He screamed out in pain as gasoline mixed with blood rain down his thigh. Just then, the front of his car erupted in flame and him with it. Just then, the man who was driving the semi, grabbed a hold of him, and pulled out of the flaming wreckage and threw a blanket over him to smoulder the flame.
The fire department arrived moments later and proceeded to put out the fire before the gas tank exploded. Then an ambulance arrived. And the opened the back and put him inside on the stretcher. He was aware that he was conscious, but he wasn’t aware of where he was.
“What’s your name kid? Your wallet got burnt in the fire.” one of the paramedics asked him
“I….my name is….” But he couldn’t think of his name.
“Don’t think too hard, you were just in a serious collision, and you are suffering from massive burns across your entire body.”
“Why don’t I feel any pain?”
“We pumped you full of meds; I’m amazed you’re still conscious actually.”
“Why don’t I know what my own name is…why don’t I remember how I crashed?”
“You’re probably just in shock, don’t worry were almost at the hospital, and you’ll be just fine.”
He lay in hospital bed, waiting for the nurse’s to come in and wheel him to his next skin graft treatment. The fire had left his body a scarred ruin, he had heard a doctor describe it as the devils self portrait. He had been in the hospital for weeks, the only person who came to see him was his aunt, who winced the moment she saw him and left. After that no one else had come to see him. Every night, he had dreams, these dreams were so vivid and realistic, every night he fell asleep, and every morning he woke up wondering what was real. In his dreams there was this girl, the always appeared faceless. He met her at some frat party, he was sitting on the couch, and there she was, moving to the music, like a violent gypsy dance. In this dream, he just watched her, never approaching her or talking to her. One night while having this dream, something changed; he got up from the couch, and walked over to her, put his hands on her hips, turned her around and kissed her. He woke up the next morning wondering why the dream had changed.
The hospital refused to let him go until they got a positive ID on him, and because he couldn’t remember who he was, they put him into therapy. Once a week, a psychologist would come in and talk to him, ask him questions. He knew what he would be telling her about when she came in today.
“I had the dream again, the one with the girl, but it changed.”
“How so?” she asked, calmly.
“After a while of watching her, I got up, and moved to her, and put my hands on her hips, and kissed her. Why do you think my dream changed?”
“I think that dream might be part of your life, a part you have forgotten, your brain might be processing the information in there, and has only recently processed farther than just sitting there.”
He just sat there and pondered that.
He slept every chance he could get; he needed to find out who she was. This girl who haunted his dreams. Every night his dream would get a little farther. She would let him touch and feel her. And she would say she felt free like a pineapple in a tree, but at this point he just kept repeating “It’s dangerous to be so intimate.” to her. Then the dream would lead them to a room, and she would lie on her back. Every night when she laid on her back, the same words would come out of her mouth. “The sun hits my body like an ugly landscape.” And after that, the dream was stuck in fast forward. So much would happen, that he wouldn’t remember it all. But he did pick up on the fights, constantly fighting, why wouldn’t things get better? Then one night, he saw a second woman, one with fake porno tits, a pad lock on her lips, disposable hands, and a biodegradable tan. And then he would kiss her.
For weeks, the dream would end on that kiss. For weeks he slept restlessly waiting for the first girl to come back. But she wouldn’t. After about a month, he started having different dreams. He saw the first girl, but she would be standing in the hospital room in front of his bed, and she was wearing a newspaper gown. Every time he tried to talk to her, her gown would erupt into flames, covering her body. But she never moved an inch. These nightmares plagued him. And his health started to decline. His burns were not healing the way they should be, he heard a doctor mutter the words infection a few times.
He could feel his life slipping away from him, he knew he was dying; something was happening in his body that he just could not control. One night after the nurses gave him a sedative to help him sleep. He was the first girl again, but not in his room. She was in some beer soaked apartment, talking to some guy. Some guy she said she had just met. This guy was sketchy looking. He saw this guy yell at her, saw this guy hit her, and saw this guy love her. They would do all the things; he never said that he wanted. He could feel his thoughts slipping, he tried grasping onto the image of the girl, but she kept slipping away from him. He felt himself dying. Then he realised, he knew this woman, that night he gave his burned a face, that night he gave his burden a name. the last words he uttered before he flat lined.
“I’m sorry Jane.”
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